FROM  -THE-  LIBRARY-  OF- 
A.    w.    Ryder 


'Ut  is  IVef dock's  head" 

Drawn  by  Wal.  Paget  — Etched  by  H.  Macbeth-Raeburn 


Illustrated  Sterling  edition 

THE  BETROTHED 


CHRONICLES   OF  THE  CANONGATE 


The  Highland  Widow 


THE  TALISMAN 


Castle  Dangerous 

\ 

BY 
SIR   WALTER    SCOTT,    BART. 


BOSTON 
DANA   ESTES    Oi:    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


S 


\\ 


ffL 


}4i 


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LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


BETROTHED 

PAGK 

'It  is  Wenlock's  Head'"  ....  Frontisjiiece 

The  Constable  awaited  her   at   the  fatal  bridge"     lO-l 
Evelyn  entered  at  the  moment"  ....     178 

'Deliver  him  up  to  us,  and  I  will  draw  off   these 

men-at-arms'" 256 


THE   TALISMAN 

Each    warrior    prayed,    ere    he    addressed    himself 

to  his  place  of  rest"  ......       41 

'  Honor  unto  whom  honor  is  due  ' "       .         .         ,         .     118 


ivl29085 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BETROTHEL 

The  Tales  of  the  Crusaders  was  determined  upon  as  the  title 
of  the  following  series  of  these  novels,  rather  by  the  advice  of 
tlie  few  friends  whom  death  has  now  rendered  still  fewer, 
than  by  the  Author's  own  taste.  Not  but  that  he  saw  plainly 
enough  the  interest  which  might  be  excited  by  the  very  name 
of  the  Crusades;  but  he  was  conscious,  at  the  same  time, 
that  that  interest  was  of  a  character  which  it  might  be  more 
easy  to  create  than  to  satisfy,  and  that  by  the  mention  of  so 
magnificent  a  subject  each  reader  might  be  induced  to  call 
up  to  his  imagination  a  sketch  so  extensive  and  so  grand  that 
it  might  not  be  in  the  power  of  the  Author  to  fill  it  up,  who 
would  thus  stand  in  the  predicament  of  the  dwarf  bringing 
with  him  a  standard  to  measure  his  own  stature,  and  showing 
himself,  therefore,  says  Sterne,  *'  a  dwarf  more  ways  than 
one." 

It  is  a  fact,  if  it  Avere  worth  while  to  examine  it,  that  the 
publisher  and  author,  however  much  their  general  interests 
are  the  same,  may  be  said  to  differ  so  far  as  title-pages  are 
concerned ;  and  it  is  a  secret  of  the  tale-telling  art,  if  it 
could  be  termed  a  secret  worth  knowing,  that  a  taking  title, 
as  it  is  called,  best  answers  the  purpose  of  the  book-seller, 
since  it  often  goes  far  to  cover  his  risk,  and  sells  an  edition 
not  infrequently  before  the  public  have  well  seen  it.  But 
the  author  ought  to  seek  more  permanent  fame,  and  wish 
that  his  work,  when  its  leaves  are  first  cut  open,  should  be 
at  least  fairly  judged  of.  Thus  many  of  the  best  novelists 
have  b^en  anxious  to  give  their  works  such  titles  as  render 
it  out  of  the  reader's  power  to  conjecture  their  contents,  until 
they  should  have  an  opportunity  of  reading  them. 

All  this  did  not  prevent  the  Tales  of  the  Crusaders  from 
being  the  title  fixed  on  ;  and  the  celebrated  year  of  projects 
(1825)  being  the  time  of  publication,  an  introduction  was 
prefixed  according  to  the  humor  of  the  day. 

The  first  tale  of  the  series  was  influenced  in  its  structure 


vl  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

rather  by  the  wish  to  avoid  the  general  expectations  which 
miglit  be  formed  from  the  title  than  to  comply  with  any  one 
of  them,  and  so  disappoint  the  rest.  The  story  was,  there- 
fore, less  an  incident  belonging  to  the  Crusades  than  one 
which  wcs  occasioned  by  the  singular  cast  of  mind  introduced 
and  spread  wide  by  these  memorable  undertakings.  The  ' 
confusion  among  families  was  not  the  least  concomitant  evil  of 
the  extraordinary  preponderance  of  this  superstition.  _  It  was 
no  unusual  thing  for  a  crusader,  returning  from  his  long 
toils  of  war  and  pilgrimage,  to  tind  his  family  augmented  by 
some  young  offshoot,  of  whom  the  deserted  matron  could 
give  no  very  accurate  account,  or  perhaps  to  find  his  marriage 
bed  filled,  and  that,  instead  of  becoming  nurse  to  an  old  man, 
his  household  dame  had  preferred  being  the  lady-love  of  a 
young  one.  Numerous  are  the  stories  of  this  kind  told  in 
different  parts  of  Europe  ;  and  the  returned  knight  or  baron, 
according  to  his  temper,  sat  down  good-naturedly  contented 
with  the  account  which  his  lady  gave  of  a  doubtful  matter, 
or  called  in  blood  and  fire  to  vindicate  his  honor,  which, 
after  all,  had  been  endangered  chiefly  by  his  forsaking  his 
household  gods  to  seek  adventures  in  Palestine. 

Scottish  tradition,  quoted,  I  think,  in  some  part  of  the 
Border  Minstrelsy,  ascribes  to  the  clan  of  Tweedie,  a  family 
once  stout  and  warlike,  a  descent  which  would  not  have  mis- 
become a  hero  of  antiquity.  A  baron, somewhat  elderly  we  may 
suppose,  had  wedded  a  buxom  young  lady,  and  some  months 
after  their  union  he  left  her  to  ply  the  distaff  alone  in  his  old 
tower,  among  the  mountains  of  the  county  of  Peebles,  near 
the  sources  of  the  Tweed.  He  returnedafter  seven  or  eight 
years,  no  uncommon  space  for  a  pilgrimage  to  Palestine, 
and  found  his  family  had  not  been  lonely  in  his  absence,  the 
lady  having  been  cheered  by  the  arrival  of  a  stranger  (of 
whose  approach  she  could  give  the  best  account  of  any  one), 
who  Inmg  on  her  skirts,  and  called  her  mammy,  and  Avas  just 
such  as  the  baron  would  have  longed  to  call  his  son,  but  that 
he  could  by  no  means  make  his  age  correspond,  according 
to  the  doctrine  of  civilians,  with  his  own  departure  for  Pal- 
estine. He  applied  to  his  wife,  therefore,  for  the  solution  of 
this  dilemma.  The  lady,  after  many  floods  of  tears,  which 
she  had  reserved  for  the  occasion,  informed  the  honest 
gentleman,  that,  walking  one  day  alone  by  the  banks  of  the 
infant  river,  a  human  form  arose  from  a  deep  eddy,  still 
known  and  termed  Tweed  Pool,  who  deigned  to  inform  her 
that  he  was  the  tutelar  genius  of  the  stream,  and  hou  gremal 
gre,  became  the  father  of  the  sturdy  fellow  whose  appearance 


IJVTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BETROTHED  VJi 

had  so  much  surprised  her  Imsband.  This  story,  however 
suitable  to  pagan  times,  would  have  met  with  full  credence 
from  few  of  the  baron's  contemporaries,  but  the  wife  Avas 
young  and  beautiful,  the  husband  old  and  in  his  dotage  ;  her 
fami-ly  (the  Frasers,  it  is  believed)  were  powerful  and  warlike, 
and  tlie  baron  had  had  fighting  enough  in  the  holy  wars. 
The  event  was,  that  he  believed,  or  seemed  to  believe,  the 
tflle,  and  remained  contented  with  the  child  with  whom 
his  wife  and  the  Tweed  had  generously  presented  him.  The 
only  circumstance  which  preserved  the  memory  of  the  incident 
was,  that  the  youth  retained  the  name  of  Tweed  or  Tweedie. 
The  baron,  meanwhile,  could  not,  as  the  old  Scotch  song 
says,  "'Keep  the  cradle  rowing,"  and  the  Tweed  apparently 
thought  one  natural  son  was  family  enough  for  a  decent 
Presbyterian  lover  ;  and  so  little  gall  had  the  baron  in  iiis 
composition,  that,  having  bred  up  the  young  Tweed  as  his 
heir  while  he  lived,  he  left  him  in  that  capacity  when  he 
died,  and  the  son  of  the  river-god  founded  the  family  of 
Drummelzier  and  others,  from  whom  have  flowed,  in  the 
phrase  of  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  "  many  a  brave  fellow  and 
many  a  bauld  feat." 

The  tale  of  the  Noble  Moringer  is  somewhat  of  the  same 
nature  ;  it  exists  in  a  collection  of  German  popular  songs, 
entitled  Sammlnng  Deutsclier  ToIJcsIieder,  Berlin,  1807; 
published  by  Messrs.  Busching  and  Von  der  Hagen.  The 
song  is  supposed  to  be  extracted  from  a  manuscript  chronicle 
of  Nicolas  Thomann,  chaplain  to  St.  Leonard  in  Weissen- 
horn,  and  dated  1533.  The  ballad,  which  is  popular  in 
Germany,  is  supposed,  from  the  language,  to  have  been 
composed  in  the  l5th  century.  The  Noble  Moringer,  a 
powerful  baron  of  Germany,  about  to  set  out  on  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  land  of  St.  Thomas,  with  the  geography  of  which  we 
are  not  made  acquainted,  resolves  to  commit  his  castle, 
dominions,  and  lady  to  the  vassal  who  should  pledge  him 
to  keep  watch  over  them  till  the  seven  years  of  his  pilgrim- 
age were  accomplished.  His  chamberlain,  an  elderly  and  a 
cautious  man,  declines  the  trust,  observing  that  seven  days, 
instead  of  seven  years,  would  be  the  utmost  space  to  which 
he  would  consent  to  pledge  himself  for  the  fidelity  of  any 
woman.  The  esquire  of  the  Noble  Moringer  confidently 
accepts  the  trust  refused  by  the  chamberlain,  and  the  baron 
departs  on  his  pilgrimage.  The  seven  years  are  now  elapsed, 
all  save  a  single  day  and  night,  when,  behold,  a  vision  de- 
scends on  the  noble  pilgrim  as  he  sleeps  in  the  land  of  the 
stranger. 


viii  iVAVERLEY  NOVELS 

It  was  tne  xiouie  Moringer  within  an  orchard  slept, 
When  on  the  baron's  slumbering  sense  a  boding  vision  crept. 
And  whispered  in  his  ear  a  voice,  "  Tis  time,  sir  knight,  to  wake  J 
Thy  lady  and  thy  heritage  another  master  take. 

"  Thy  tower  another  banner  knows,  thy  steeds  another  rein, 
And  stoop  them  to  another's  will  thy  gallant  vassal  train  ; 
And  she,  the  lady  of  thy  love,  so  faithful  once  and  fair, 
This  night,  within  thy  father's  hall,  she  wed«  Marstetten's  heir." 

The  Moringer  starts  np  and  prays  to  his  patron,  St. 
Thomas,  to  rescue  him  from  the  impending  shame,  which  his 
devotion  to  his  patron  had  placed  him  in  danger  of  incur- 
ring. St.  Thomas,  who  must  have  felt  the  justice  of  the 
imputation,  performs  a  miracle.  The  Moringer's  senses  were 
drenched  in  oblivion,  and  when  he  waked  he  lay  in  a  well- 
known  spot  of  his  own  domain ;  on  his  right  the  castle  of 
his  fathers,  and  on  his  left  the  mill,  which,  as  usual,  waa 
built  not  far  distant  from  the  castle. 

He  leaned  upon  his  pilgrim's  staff,  and  to  the  mill  he  drew 
So  altered  was  his  goodly  form  that  none  their  master  knew. 
The  baron  to  the  miller  said,  "  Good  friend,  for  charity, 
Tell  a  poor  pilgrim,  in  your  land,  what  tidings  may  there  be  ?  " 

The  miller  answered  him  again — "  He  knew  of  little  news, 
Save  that  the  lady  of  tlie  land  did  a  new  bridegroom  choose. 
Her  husband  died  in  distant  land,  such  is  the  constant  word  ; 
His  death  sits  heavy  on  our  souls,  he  was  a  worthy  lord. 

"  Of  him  I  held  the  little  mill,  which  wins  me  living  free ; 
God  rest  the  baron  in  his  grave,  he  aye  was  kind  to  me  1 
And  when  St.  Martin's  tide  comes  round,  and  millers  take  their  toll. 
The  priest  that  prays  for  Moringer  shall  have  both  cope  aad  stole. 

The  baron  proceeds  to  the  castle  gate,  which  is  bolted  to 
prevent  intrusion,  while  the  inside  of  the  mansion  rung  with 
preparations  for  the  marriage  of  the  lady.  The  pilgrim 
prayed  the  porter  for  entrance,  conjuring  him  by  his  own 
Bufferings,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  late  Moringer ;  by  the 
orders  of  his  lady,  the  warder  gave  him  admittance. 

Then  up  the  hall  paced  Moringer,  his  step  was  sad  and  slow ; 
It  sat  full  hea\'y  on  his  heart,  none  seemed  their  lord  to  know. 
He  sat  him  on  a  lowly  bench,  oppressed  with  woe  and  wrong  ; 
Short  while  he  sat,  but  ne'er  to  him  seemed  little  space  so  long. 

Now  spent  was  day,  and  feasting  o'er,  and  come  was  evening  hour, 
The  time  was  nigh  when  new-made  brides  retire  to  nuptial  bower. 
"  Our  castle's  wont,"  a  bridesman  said,  "  hath  been  both  firm  and 

long ; 
No  guest  to  harbor  in  our  halls  till  he  shall  chant  a  song.** 


tlVTRODUUTION   TO  THE  BETROTHED  ix 

When  thus  called  upon,  the  disguised  baron  sung  the  fol- 
lowing melancholy  ditty  : 

"  Chill  flows  the  lay  of  frozen  age,"  'twas  thus  the  pilgrim  sung, 
"  Nor  golden  meed,  nor  garment  gay,  unlocks  his  heavy  tongua 
Once  did  I  sit,  thou  bridegroom  gay,  at  board  as  rich  as  thine, 
And  by  my  side  as  fair  a  bride,  with  all  her  charms,  wa?  mine. 

'•  But  time  traced  furrows  on  my  face,  and  I  gew  silver-haired, 
For  locks  of  bro%\Ti  and  cheeks  of  youth  she  left  this  brow  and 

beard  ; 
Once  rich,  but  now  a  palmer  poor,  I  tread  life's  latest  stage, 
And  mingle  with  your  bridtl  mirth  the  lay  if  frozen  age." 

The  lady,  moved  at  the  doleful  recollections  which  th( 
[)almer's  song  recalled,  sent  to  him  a  cup  of  wine.  TJie 
pahner,  having  exhausted  the  goblet,  returned  it.  and  hav- 
iiic;  tirst  dropped  in  the  cup  his  nuptial  ring,  requested  the 
lady  to  pledge  her  venerable  guest. 

riie  ring  hath  caught  the  lady's  eye,  she  views  it  close  and  near, 
Tlien  might  you  hear  her  shriek  aloud,  "  The  Moringer  is  here  !" 
Tlien  might  you  see  her  start  from  seat,  while  tears  in  torrents  fell, 
But  if  she  wept  for  joy  or  woe,  the  ladies  best  can  tell. 

Full  loud  she  uttered  thanks  to  heaven  and  every  saintly  power. 
Tliat  had  restored  the  Moringer  before  the  midnig't  hour  : 
And  loud  she  uttered  vow  on  vow,  tl  at  nerer  was  there  bride, 
That  had  like  her  preserved  her  troth,  or  b  en  so  sorely  tried. 

"  Yes.  here  I  claim  the  praise,"  she  said, "  to  constant  matrons  due. 
Who  keep  the  troth  that  they  have  plight  so  steadfastly  and  ti-ue  ; 
For  count  the  term  iioweer  you  will,  so  that  you  count  aright, 
Seven  twelvemonths  and  a  day  are  out  when  bells  toll  twelve  to- 
night." 

It  was  Marstetten  then  rose  up.  his  falchion  there  he  drew. 
He  kneeled  before  the  Moringer,  and  down  his  weapon  threw ; 
"  My  oatli  and  knightly  faith  are  broke,"  these  were  the  words  he 

said ; 
"  Then  take,  my  liege,  thy  vassal's  sword,  and  take  thy  vassal's 

head." 

The  noble  Moringer  he  smiled,  and  then  aloud  did  say, 

•'  He  gathers  wisdom  that  hath  roamed  seven  twelvemonths  and  a 

day; 
My  daughter  now  hath  fifteen  years,  fame  speaks  her  sweet  and 

fair ; 
I  give  her  for  the  bride  you  lose,  and  name  her  for  my  heir. 

"The  young  bridegroom  hath  youthful  bride,  the  old  bridegroom 

the  old, 
Whose  faith  was  kept  till  term  and  tide  so  punctually  were  told  ; 
But  blessings  on  the  warder  kind  that  oped  my  castle  gate. 
For  had  I  come  at  morrow  tide,  I  came  a  day  too  late."  * 

"  These  \erses  are  quoted  from  the  Author's  own  translation, 
with  a  few  verbal  alterations  (Lam^). 


X  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

There  is  also,  in  the  rich  field  of  German  romance,  another 
edition  of  this  story,  which  has  been  converted  by  M.  Tieck 
(whose  labors  of  that  kind  have  been  so  remarkable)  into 
the  subject  of  one  of  his  romantic  dramas.  It  is,  however, 
unnecccsary  to  detail  it,  as  the  present  Anthor  adopted  his 
idea  of  the  tale  chiefly  from  the  edition  preserved  in  the  man- 
sion of  Haigh  Hall,  of  old  the  mansion-house  of  the  family 
of  Bradshaigh,  now  possessed  by  their  descendants  on  the  fe- 
male side. the  Earls  of  Balcarras.  The  story  greatly  resembles 
that  of  tlie  ISToble  Moringer,  only  there  is  no  miracle  of  St. 
Thomas  to  shock  the  belief  of  good  Protestants.  I  am  per- 
mitted, by  my  noble  friends,  the  lord  and  lady  of  Haigh  Hall, 
to  print  the  following  extract  from  the  family  genealogy  : — 

5tr  JKEilliam  iSraSsIjagfjc  2ti  ^  fHabrll  ^lauglitcr  anU 

Sone  to  Sr  iofjn  foas  9.  ^  5ok  {}rirc  of  Jl^ugfj 

great  traurllcr  anti  '3.  ?  floris  tic  Jt^agijc  anti 

SoulSgcr  anti  tnarrtctJ  S  ^lacluctc  ant)  hat)  issue 

€a  >  CA.  S.E2. 

of  tiki's  ilHabcI  is  a  story  I)g  trat)itton  of  untioutctJ 
fcrn'tg  tljat  in  S"^  OEtUtam  ISratisIjagc's  absence 
(btinge  10  gcarrs  aiuag  in  tijc  iuarcs)  sljc 
marri'rt  a  fcrlcl)  k'.    S^  tBilliam  rctorningc 
from  tfjc  iriarcs  came  in  a  ^abncrs  Ijabit  anto= 
ntjst  tljc  ^oorc  to  Ijagljc.      Ui^o  ^\)in  sbc  salu  ^ 
conffctrin^c  tljat  \)z  fnbourcti  l}cr  former 
f)U5banti  toept,  for  tuljielj  tijc  U'  rljastfceti  Ijer 
Rt  toicfi  S'^  Olillianr  tocnt  anti  matjc  Iji'nt  sdfc 
IKnotone  to  f)ts  (UTennants  in  iurlj  space  tIjc  U' 
flcti.  but  ncarc  to  ^tSjiton  ^Darke  S>'  William  oucr* 
tookc  f}im  anti  sUic  Iji'm.     CCfjc  sait)  Dame 
^abell  ixias  cntogncti  by  f)cr  confessor  to 
iJoE  ^cnnances  bo  going  oncst  cuern  Ircek 
barefout  anti  bare  legg'H  to  a  Crosse  ncr  GIgigan 
from  t^e  !)agl}c  foihst  slje  liiieti  ^  t's  calleti 
fHabfa  K  to  tljis  tiag;  x^»*  tljer  moninnent  ILurs 
m  toigan  C^urcl)  a"g  you  sec  tijcr  ^Sortrti 

an:  Dom:  1313. 

There  were  many  vestiges  around  Haigh  Hall,  both  of  the 
Catholic  penances  of  the  Lady  Mabel  and  of  this  melancholy 
transaction  in  particular  ;  the  whole  history  was  within  the 
memory  of  man  portraj-ed  upon  a  glass  window  in  the  hall, 
where  unfortunately  it  has  not  been  preserved.  Mab's  Cross 
is  still  extant.     An  old  decayed  building  is  said  to  have  been 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BETROTHED  xl 

the  place  where  the  Lady  Mabel  was  condemned  to  render 
penance,  by  walking  hither  from  Haigh  Hall  barefooted  and 
barelegged  for  the  performance  of  her  devotions.  This  relic, 
to  which  an  anecdote  so  curious  is  annexed,  is  now  unfor- 
tunately ruinous.  Time  and  whitewash,  says  Mr.  Koby, 
have  altogether  defaced  the  effigies  of  the  knight  and  lady 
on  the  tomb.  The  particulars  are  preserved  in  Mr.  Eoby's 
Traditions  of  LancasMre,'^  to  which  the  reader  is  referred 
for  further  particulars.  It  does  not  appear  that  Sir  William 
liradshaigh  was  irreparably  offended  against  the  too  hasty 
Lady  Mabel,  although  he  certainly  showed  himself  of  a  more 
fiery  mold  than  the  Scottish  and  German  barons  who  were 
heroes  of  the  former  tales.  The  tradition,  which  the  Author 
knew  very  early  in  life,  was  told  to  him  by  the  late  Lady 
Balcarras.  Pie  was  so  much  struck  with  it  that,  being  at 
tliat  time  profuse  of  legendary  lore,  he  inserted  it  in  the 
shape  of  a  note  to  Waverley ,'\  the  first  of  his  romantic 
offenses.  Had  he  then  known,  as  he  now  does,  the  value  of 
such  a  story,  it  is  likely  that,  as  directed  in  the  inimitr.ble 
receipt  for  making  an  epic  poem,  preserved  in  The  Guardian^ 
he  would  have  kept  it  for  some  future  opportunity. 

As,  however,  the  tale  had  not  been  completely  told,  and 
was  a  very  interesting  one,  and  as  it  was  sufficiently  inter- 
woven with  the  crusades,  the  wars  between  the  Welsh  and 
the  Norman  lords  of  the  marches  were  selected  as  a  period 
when  all  freedoms  might  be  taken  with  the  strict  truth  of 
history  without  encountering  any  well-known  fact  which 
might  render  the  narrative  improbable.  Perhaps,  however, 
the  period  which  vindicates  the  probability  of  the  tale  will, 
with  its  wars  and  murders,  be  best  found  described  in  the 
following  passage  of  Gryffyth  Ap  Edwin's  wars  : — 

This  prince,  in  conjunction  with  Algar,  Earl  of  Chester,  who 
had  been  banished  from  England  as  a  traitor,  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  the  Confessor,  marched  into  Herefordshire  and  wasted  ali 
tliat  fertile  country  with  fire  and  sword,  to  revenge  the  death  of 
Ills  brotlier  Rhees,  whose  head  had  been  brought  to  Edward  in  pur- 
suance of  an  order  sent  by  that  king  on  account  of  the  depreda- 
tions which  lie  had  committed  against  the  English  on  the  borders. 
To  stop  these  ravages  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  who  was  nephew  to 
Edward,  advanced  with  an  army  not  of  English  alone,  but  of  mer- 
cenary Normans  and  French,  whom  he  ha  1  entertained  in  his  ser- 
vice, against  Gryffyth  and  Algar.     He  met  them  near  Hereford, 

*  A  very  elegant  work,  2  vols.  1829  [and  2  vols,  more,  1831].     By 
J.  Roby,  M.R.S.I. 
t  Waverley,  Note  2,  p.  470. 


xtt  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  offered  them  battle,  which  the  Welsh  monarch,  who  had  won 
five  pitched  battles  before,  and  never  had  fought  without  conquer- 
ing, joyfully  accepted.  The  earl  had  commanded  his  English  forces 
to  hghl  on  horseback,  in  imitation  of  the  Normans,  against  their 
usual  custom  ;  but  the  Welsh  making  a  furious  and  desperate 
charge,  that  nobleman  himself,  and  the  foreign  cavalry  led  by 
him,  were  so  daunted  at  the  view  of  them,  that  they  sliamefuUy 
fled  without  fighting  ;  whicli  being  seen  by  the  English,  they  also 
turned  their  backs  on  the  enemy,  who,  having  killed  or  wounded 
as  many  of  them  as  tliey  could  come  up  with  in  their  flight, 
entered  triumphantly  into  Hereford,  spoiled  and  fired  the  city, 
razed  the  walls  to  tlie  ground,  slaughtered  some  of  tlie  citizens, 
led  many  of  them  captive,  and,  to  use  the  words  of  the  AVelsh 
chronicle,  left  nothing  in  tlie  town  but  blood  and  ashes.  After 
this  exploit  they  immediately  returned  into  Wales,  undoubtedly 
from  a  desire  of  securing  their  prisoners  and  tlie  rich  plunder  they 
had  gained.  The  king  of  England  hereupon  commanded  Earl 
Harold  to  collect  a  great  army  from  all  parts  of  tlie  kingdom,  and 
assembling  them  at  Gloucester,  advanced  from  thence  to  invade 
the  dominions  of  Gryffyth  in  North  Wales.  He  performed  his 
orders,  and  penetrated  into  that  country  without  resistance  from 
the  Welsh.  Gryffyth  and  Algar  returning  into  some  parts  of  South 
Wales.  Wliat  were  their  reasons  for  this  conduct  we  are  not  well 
informed,  nor  why  Harold  did  not  pursue  his  advantage  against 
them  ;  but  it  appears  that  he  thouglit  it  more  advisable  at  this  time 
to  treat  with,  than  subdue,  them ;  for  he  left  Nortli  Wales,  and 
employed  liimself  in  rebuilding  the  walls  of  Hereford,  while  nego- 
tiations were  carrying  on  with  Giyffth.  which  soon  after  produced 
the  restoration  of  Algar,  and  a  peace  with  that  king,  not  very 
honorable  to  England,  as  he  made  no  satisfaction  for  the  mischief 
he  had  done  in  tlie  war,  nor  any  submissions  to  Edward.  Harold 
must  doubtless  have  had  some  private  and  forcible  motives  to  con- 
clude such  a  treaty.  The  very  next  year  the  Welsh  monarch,  upon 
what  quarrel  we  know  not,  made  a  new  incursion  into  England, 
and  killed  the  bishop  of  Hereford,  the  sheriff  of  the  county,  and 
many  more  of  the  English,  botli  ecclesiastics  and  laymen.  Edward 
was  "counselled  by  Harold  and  Leofrick,  Earl  of  Mercia.  to  make 
peace  with  him  again,  which  he  again  broke;  nor  could  he  be 
restrained  by  any  means  from  these  barbarous  inroads  before  the 
vear  one  thousand  and  sixty-three  ;  when  Edward,  whose  patience 
and  pacific  disposition  had  been  too  much  abused,  commissioneil 
Harold  to  assemble  the  whole  strength  of  the  kingdom,  and  make 
war  upon  him  in  his  own  country,  till  he  had  subdued  or  destroyed 
him.  That  general  acted  so  vigorously,  and  with  so  much  celerity, 
that  he  had  like  to  have  surprised  him  in  his  palace ;  but  just 
before  the  English  forces  arrived  at  his  gate,  having  notice  of  the 
danger  that  tlireatened  him,  and  seeing  no  other  means  of  safety, 
he  tlirew  liimself,  with  a  few  of  his  household,  into  one  of  his 
ships  Avliich  happened  at  the  instant  to  be  ready  to  sail,  and  put  to 
sea. — Lj'ttleton's  [?]  Hist,  of  England,  vol.  ii.  p.  338. 

This  passage  will  be  found  to  bear  a  general  resemblance 
to  the  fictitious  tale  told  in  the  romance. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BETROTHED  xiii 


MINUTES 

OF  SEDERUNT  OF  A  GENERAL  MEETING  OF  THE  SHARE- 
HOLDERS DESIGNING  TO  FORM  A  JOINT-STOCK  COMPANY, 
UNITED  FOR  THE  PURPOSE  OF  ^VRITING  AND  PUBLISH- 
ING THE  CLASS  OF  WORKS  CALLED  THE  WAVERLEY 
NOVELS, 


IN  THE  WATERLOO  TAVERN,  REGENT's  BBIDGB^ 
Edinburgh,  \st  June,  1885 


The  reader  must  have  reuiarked,  that  the  various  editions  of  the 
proceedings  at  this  meeting  were  given  in  the  pviblic  papers  with 
rather  more  than  usual  inaccuracy.  The  cause  of  this  was  no  ill- 
timed  delicacy  on  the  part  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  press  to  assert 
their  privilege  of  universal  presence  wherever  a  few  are  met 
together,  and  to  commit  to  the  public  prints  whatever  may  then 
and  there  pass  of  the  most  private  nature.  But  very  unusual  and 
arbitrary  methods  were  resorted  to  on  the  present  occasion  to 
prevent  the  reporters  using  a  right  which  is  generally  conceded  to 
them  by  almost  all  meetings,  whether  of  a  political  or  commercial 
description.  Our  own  reporter,  indeed,  was  bold  enough  to  secrete 
himself  under  the  secretary's  table,  and  was  not  discovered  till  the 
meeting  was  wellnigh  over.  We  are  sorry  to  say  he  suffered  much 
in  person  from  fists  and  toes,  and  two  or  three  principal  pages  were 
torn  out  of  his  note-book,  which  occasions  his  report  to  break  off 
abruptly.  We  cannot  but  consider  this  behavior  as  more  particu- 
larly illiberal  on  the  part  of  men  who  are  themselves  a  kind  of 
gentlemen  of  the  press  ;  and  they  ought  to  consider  themselves  as 
fortunate  that  the  misused  reporter  has  sought  no  other  vengeance 
than  from  the  tone  of  acidity  with  which  he  has  seasoned  his 
account  of  their  proceedings. — Edinburgh  Newspaper, 


A  MEETING  of  the  gentlemen  and  others  interested  in  the 
celebrated  publications  called  the  Waverley  Novels  having 
been  called  by  public  advertisement,  the  same  was  respect- 
ably attended  by  various  literary  characters  of  eminence. 
And  it  being  in  the  first  place  understood  that  individuals 
were  to  be  denominated  by  the  names  assigned  to  them  in 
the  publications  in  question,  the  eidolon  or  image  of  the 
Author  was  unanimously  called  to  the  chair^  and  Jonathan 
Oldbuck,  Esq.,  of  Monkbarns  was  requested  to  act  as 
secretary. 


xiv  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  Preses  then  addressed  the  meeting  to  the  following 
purpose  : — 

"  Gentlemen. — I  need  scarce  remind  you  that  we  have  a 
joint  interest  in  the  valuable  property  which  has  accumulated 
under  our  common  labors.  While  the  public  have  been  idly 
engaged  in  ascribing  to  one  individual  or  another  the  im- 
meiise  mass  of  various  matter  which  the  labors  of  many  had 
accumulated,  you,  gentlemen,  well  know  that  every  person 
in  this  numerous  assembly  has  had  his  share  in  the  honors 
and  profits  of  our  common  success.  It  is,  indeed,  to  me  a 
mystery  how  the  sharp-sighted  could  suppose  so  huge  a  mass 
of  sense  and  nonsense,  jest  and  earnest,  humorous  and 
pathetic,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  amounting  to  scores  of 
volumes,  could  be  the  work  of  one  hand,  when  we  know  the 
doctrine  so  well  laid  down  by  the  immortal  Adam  Smith 
concerning  the  division  of  labor.  Were  those  who  enter- 
tained an  opinion  so  strange  not  wise  enoughto  know  that 
it  requires  twenty  pairs  of  "hands  to  make  a  thing  so  trifling 
as  a  pin,  twenty  couple  of  dogs  to  kill  an  animal  so  insignif- 
icant as  a  fox ?  " 

"  Hout,  man  ! "  said  a  stout  countryman,  "  I  have  a  grew 
bitch  at  hame  will  worry  the  best  tod  in  Pomoragrains  before 
ye  could  say  dumpling." 

''Who  is  that  person?"  said  the  Preses,  with  some 
warmth,  as  it  appeared  to  us. 

"  A  son  of  Dandy  Dinmont's,"  answered  the  unabashed 
rustic.  "  God,  ye  may  mind  him,  I  think  !  ane  o'the  best 
in  your  aught,  I  reckon.  And,  ye  see,  I  am  come  into  the 
farm,  and  maybe  something  mair,  anda  wheen  shares  in  this 
buik-trade  of  yours." 

"Well,  well,"  replied  the  Preses,  "peace,  I  pray  thee— 
peace.  Gentlemen,  when  thus  interrupted,  I  Avas  on  the 
point  of  introducing  the  business  of  this  meeting,  being,  as 
is  known  to  most  of  you,  the  discussion  of  a  proposition  now 
on  your  tabic,  which  I  myself  had  the  honor  to  suggest  at 
last  meeting,  namelv,  that  we  do  apply  to  the  legislature  for 
an  act  of  parliament  in  ordinary,  to  associate  us  into  a  cor- 
porate body,  and  give  us  a  persona  standi  in  jndicio,  with 
full  power  to  prosecute  and  bring  to  ponviction  all  encroach- 
ers  upon  our  exclusive  privilege,  in  the  manner  therein 
to  be  made  and  provided.  In  a"^ letter  from  the  ingenious 
Mr.  Dousterswivel  which  I  have  received -" 

Oldbuck  (warmly)—"  I  object  to  that  fellow's  name  bemg 
mentioned  ;  he  is  a  common  swindler." 

"For  shame,  Mr,    Oldbuck,"  said  the  Preses,   "to  use 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BETROTHED  XV 

such  terms  respecting  the  ingenious  inventor  of  the  great 
patent  machine  erected  at  Groningen,  where  they  put  in 
raw  hemp  at  one  end  and  take  out  ruffled  shirts  at  the  other, 
without  the  aid  of  hackle  or  rippling-comb,  loom,  shuttle, 
or  weaver,  scissors,  needle,  or  seamstress.  He  had  just  com- 
pleted it,  by  the  addition  of  a  piece  of  machinery  to  perform 
the  work  of  the  laundress  ;  but  when  it  was  exhibited  before 
his  honor  the  burgomaster,  it  had  the  inconvenience  of 
heating  the  smoothing-irons  red-hot ;  excepting  which,  the 
experiment  was  entirely  satisfactory.  He  will  become  as 
rich  as  a  Jew." 

"  Well,"  added  Mr.  Oldbuck,  "  if  the  scoundrel- " 

"  Scoundrel,  Mr.  Oldbuck,"  said  the  Preses,  "  is  a  most 
unseemly  expression,  and  I  must  call  you  to  order.  Mr. 
Dousterswivel  is  only  an  eccentric  genius." 

"  Pretty  much  the  same  in  the  Greek,"  muttered  Mr. 
Oldbuck  ;  and  then  said  aloud,  "  And  if  this  eccentric 
genius  has  work  enough  in  singeing  the  Dutchman's  linen, 
what  the  devil  has  he  to  do  here  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  is  of  opinion  that,  at  the  expense  of  a  little 
mechanism,  some  part  of  the  labor  of  composing  these 
novels  might  be  saved  by  the  use  of  steam." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  disapprobation  at  this  proposal, 
and  the  words  "  Blown  up,"  and  "  Bread  taken  out  of  our 
mouths,"  and  "  They  might  as  well  construct  a  steam  parson," 
were  whispered.  And  it  was  not  without  repeated  calls  to 
order  that  the  Preses  obtained  an  opportunity  of  resuming 
his  address. 

"  Order  ! — order  !  Pray,  support  the  chair  !  Hear — hear 
— ^^hear  the  chair  ! " 

**  Gentlemen,  it  is  to  be  premised  that  this  mechanical 
operation  can  only  apply  to  those  parts  of  the  narrative 
Tvhich  are  at  present  composed  out  of  commonplaces,  such 
Hs  the  love-speeches  of  the  hero,  the  description  of  the  hero- 
ine's person,  the  moral  observations  of  all  sorts,  and  the  dis- 
tribution of  happiness  at  the  conclusion  of  the  piece.  Mr. 
Dousterswivel  lias  sent  me  some  drawings,  which  go  far  to 
show  that,  by  placing  the  words  and  phrases  technically  em- 
ployed on  these  subjects  in  a  sort  of  framework,  like  that  of 
the  sage  of  Laputa,  and  changing  them  by  such  a  mechanical 
process  as  that  by  which  weavers  of  damask  alter  their  pat- 
terns, many  new  and  happy  combinations  cannot  fail  to 
occur,  while  the  author,  tired  of  pumping  his  own  brains, 
may  have  an  agreeable  relaxation  in  the  use  of  his  fingers." 

"  I  speak  for  information,  Mr.  Preses/'  said  the  Eev.  Mr. 


xvi  WA  VERLE Y  NO VELS 

Laurence  Templeton  ;  ''but  I  am  inclined  to  suppose  the 
late  publication  of  WaUadmor*  to  have  been  the  work  of 
Dousterswivel,  by  the  help  of  the  steam-engine." 

"For  shame,  Mr.  Templeton,"  said  the  Presc-s  ;  ''there 
are  good  things  in  Wolladmor,  I  assure  you,  had  the  writer 
known  anything  about  the  country  in  which  he  laid  the 
scene."  f 

"  Or  had  he  had  the  wit,  like  some  of  ourselves,  to  lay  the 
scene  in  such  a  remote  or  distant  country  that  nobody  should 
be  able  to  backspeir  him,"  said  Mr.  Oldbuck. 

"Why,  as  to  that,"  said  the  Preses,  "you  must  consider 
the  thing  was  got  up  for  the  German  market,  where  folks 
are  no  better  judges  of  Welsh  manners  than  of  Welsh  ci'w." 

"I  make  it  my  prayer  that  this  be  not  found  the  fault  of 
our  own  next  venture,"  said  Dr.  Dryasdust,  pointing  to 
some  books  which  lay  on  the  table.  "  I  fear  the  manners 
expressed  in  that  Betrothed  of  ours  will  scarce  meet  the  ap- 
probation of  the  Cymmorodion  ;  I  could  have  wished  that 
Llhuvd  had  been  looked  into,  that  Powell  had  been  con- 
sulted, that  Lewis's  History  had  been  quoted,  the  preliminary 
dissertations  particularly,  in  order  to  give  due  weight  to  the 
work."     . 

"Weight  !"  said  Captain  Clutterbuck  ;  "by  my  soul,  it 
is  heavy  enough  already.  Doctor." 

"  Speak  to  the  chair,"  said  the  Preses,  rather  peevishly, 

"  To  the  chair,  then,  I  say  it,"  said  Captain  Clutterbuck, 
"  that  The  Betrothed  is  heavy  enough  to  break  down  the 
chair  of  John  of  Gaunt,  or  Cader-Edris  itself,  I  must  add, 
however,  tluit,  in  my  poor  mind.  The  Talisman  goes  more 
trippingly  oflf."  J 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  speak,"  said  the  worthy  minister  of 
St.  Ronan's  AVell ;  "but  yet  I  must  say  that,  being  so  long 
engaged  upon  the  siege  of  Ptolemais,  my  work  ought  to 
have  been  brought  out,  humble  though  it  be,  before  any 
other  upon  a  similar  subject  at  least." 

"  Your  siege,  parson  !"  said  Mr.  Oldbuck,  with  great  con- 

*  A  romance,  by  the  Author  of  Waverley,  having  been  expected 
about  tliis  time  at  the  great  commercial  mart  of  literature,  the  fair 
of  Leipsic,  an  ingenious  gentleman  of  Germany,  finding  that  none 
such  appeared,  was  so  kind  as  to  supply  its  place  with  a  work,  in 
tliree  volumes  called  WaUadmor,  to  which  he  prefixed  the  Chris- 
tian and  surname  at  full  length.  The  character  of  this  work  is 
given  with  tolerable  fairness  in  the  text.] 

t  [See  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott,  vol.  vii.  pp.  384-386.] 
I  This  was  an  opinion  universally  entertained  among  the  friends 
of  the  Author. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BETROTHED  xvil 

tempt ;  "  will  you  speak  of  your  paltry  prose-doings  in  my 
presence,  whose  great  historical  poem,  in  twenty  books,  with 
notes  in  proportion,  has  been  postponed  ad  Grae  cas  ka- 
lendas  f  " 

The  Preses,  who  appeared  to  suffer  a  great  deal  during 
this  discussion,  now  spoke  with  dignity  and  determination. 
''  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  **  this  sort  of  discussion  is  highly  irreg- 
ular. There  is  a  question  before  you,  and  to  that,  gentle- 
men, 1  must  confine  your  attention.  Priority  of  publica- 
tion, let  me  remind  you,  gentlemen,  is  always  referred  to  the 
committee  of  criticism,  whose  determination  on  such  sub- 
jects is  without  appeal.  I  declare  I  will  leave  the  chair  if 
any  more  extraneous  matter  be  introduced.  And  now, 
gentlemen,  that  we  are  once  more  in  order,  I  would  wish  to 
have  some  gentleman  speak  upon  the  question,  whether  as 
associated  to  carry  on  a  joint-stock  trade  in  fictitious  narra- 
tive, in  prose  and  verse,  we  ought  not  to  be  incorporated  by 
act  of  parliament  ?  What  say  you,  gentlemen,  to  the  pro- 
posal ?     Vis  unita  fortior  is  an  old  and  true  adage/' 

"  Societas  mater' discordiarvrn  is  a  brocard  asaneient  and 
as  veritable,"  said  Oldbuck,  who  seemed  determined,  on  tliis 
occasion,  to  be  pleased  with  no  proposal  that  was  counte- 
nanced by  the  chair. 

"  Come,  Monkbarns,"  said  the  Preses,  in  his  most  coax- 
ing manner,  "  you  have  studied  the  monastic  institutions 
deeply,  and  know  there  must  be  a  union  of  persons  and 
talents  to  do  anything  respectable,  and  attain  a  due  ascend- 
ance over  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Tres  facmnt  collegium : 
it  takes  three  monks  to  make  a  convent." 

"And  nine  tailors  to  make  a  man,"  replied  Oldbuck,  not 
in  the  least  softened  in  his  opposition — "a  quotation  as 
much  to  the  purpose  as  the  other." 

"Come — come,"  said  the  Preses,  "you  know  the  Prince 
of  Orange  said  to  Mr.  Seymour,  '  Without  an  association,  we 
are  a  rope  of  sand.' " 

"I  know,"  replied  Oldbuck,  "it  would  have  been  as 
seemly  that  none  of  the  old  leaven  had  been  displayed  on 
this  occasion,  though  you  be  the  author  of  a  Jacobite  novel. 
I  know  nothing  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  after  1688  ;  but  I 
have  heard  a  good  deal  oi  the  immortal  William  the 
Third." 

"And,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,"  said  Mr.  Temple- 
ton,  whispering  Oldbuck,  "  it  was  Seymour  made  the  remark 
to  the  Prince,  not  the  Prince  to  Seymour.  But  this  is  a 
specimen  of  our  friend's  accuracy,  poor  gentleman.     He 


jcvui  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

trusts  too  much  to  his  memory  of  late  years — failing  fast 
sir — breaking  up  ! " 

**  And  breaking  down  too,"  said  Mr.  Oldbuck.  "  Bu 
what  can  you  expect  of  a  man  too  fond  of  his  own  hast; 
and  flashy  compositions  to  take  the  assistance  of  men  o* 
reading  and  of  solid  parts  ?" 

"  Xo  whispering — no  caballing — no  private  business 
gentlemen,"  said  the  unfortunate  Preses,  who  reminded  ui 
somewhat  of  a  Highland  drover,  engaged  in  gathering  anc 
keeping  in  the  straight  road  his  excursive  black  cattle. 

"  I  have  not  yet  heard,"  he  continued,  "  a  single  reason- 
able objection  to  applying  for  the  act  of  parliament,  of  which 
the  draught  lies  on  the  table.  You  must  be  awai-e  that  the 
extremes  of  rude  and  of  civilized  society  are,  in  these  our 
days,  on  the  point  of  approaching  to  each  other.  In  the 
patriarchal  period,  a  man  is  his  own  weaver,  tailor,  butcher, 
shoemaker,  and  so  forth  ;  and,  in  the  age  of  stock-com- 
panies, as  the  present  may  be  called,  an  individual  may  be 
said,  in  one  sense,  to  exercise  the  same  plurality  of  trades. 
In  fact,  a  man  who  has  dipped  largely  into  these  speculations 
may  combine  his  own  expenditure  with  the  improvement 
of  his  own  income,  just  like  the  ingenious  hydraulic  machine, 
which,  by  its  very  waste,  raises  its  own  supplies  of  water. 
Such  a  person  buys  his  bread  from  his  own  Baking  Com- 
pany, his  milk  and  cheese  from  his  own  Dairy  Company, 
takes  off  a  new  coat  for  the  benefit  of  his  own  Clothing  Com- 
pany, illuminates  his  house  to  advance  his  own  Gas  Establish- 
ment, and  drinks  an  additional  bottle  of  wine  for  the  benefit 
of  the  General  Wine  Importation  Company,  of  which  he  is 
himself  a  member.  Every  act,  which  would  otherwise  be 
one  of  mere  extravagance,  is,  to  such  a  person,  seasoned 
with  the  odor  lucri  and  reconciled  to  prudence.  Even  if  the 
price  of  the  article  consumed  be  extravagant,  and  the  quality 
indifferent,  the  person,  who  is  in  a  manner  liis  own  customer, 
is  only  imposed  upon  for  his  own  benefit.  Kay,  if  the  Joint- 
stock  Company  of  Undertakers  shall  unite  with  the  medical 

faculty,  as  proposed  by  the   late  facetious   Doctor    G , 

under  the  firm  of  Death  and  the  Doctor,  the  shareholder 
might  contrive  to  secure  to  his  heirs  a  handsome  slice  of  his 
own  death-bed  and  funeral  expenses.  In  short,  stock- 
comj^anies  are  the  fashion  of  the  age,  and  an  incorporating 
act  will,  I  think,  be  particularly  useful  in  bringing  back 
the  body  over  Avhom  I  have  the  honor  to  preside  to  a  spirit 
of  subordination,  highly  necessary  to  success  in  every  en- 
terprise where  joint  wisdom,  talent,  and  labor  are  to  be 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BETROTHED  xix 

employed.  It  is  with  regret  that  I  state  that,  besides  several 
differences  amongst  yourselves,  I  have  not  myself  for  some 
time  been  treated  with  that  deference  among  you  which 
circumstances  entitled  me  to  expect." 

"  Hinc  illm  lachrymce,"  muttered  Mr.  Oldbuck. 

"  But,"  continued  the  Chairman,  "  I  see  other  gentlemen 
impatient  to  deliver  their  opinions,  and  I  desire  to  stand  in 
no  man's  way.  I  therefore — my  place  in  this  chair  forbid- 
ding me  to  originate  the  motion — beg  some  gentleman  may 
move  a  committee  for  revising  the  draught  of  the  bill  now 
upon  the  table,  and  which  has  been  duly  circulated  among 
those  having  interest,  and  taken  the  necessary  measures  to 
bring  it  before  the  House  early  next  session." 

There  was  a  short  murmur  in  the  meeting,  and  at  length 
Mr.  Oldbuck  again  rose.  ''It  seems,  sir,"  he  said,  address- 
ing the  chair,  ' '  that  no  one  present  is  willing  to  make  the 
motion  you  point  at.  I  am  sorry  no  more  qualified  person 
has  taken  upon  him  to  show  any  reasons  in  the  contrair,  and 
that  it  has  fallen  on  me,  as  we  Scotsmen  say,  to  bell-the-cat 
with  you  ;  anent  whilk  phrase,  Pitscottie  hath  a  pleasant 
jest  of  the  great  Earl  of  Angus " 

Here  a  gentleman  whispered  to  the  speaker,  ''Have  a  care 
of  Pitscottie  !"  and  Mr.  Oldbuck,  as  if  taking  the  hint,  went 
on. 

"But  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  Well,  gentlemen,  to 
be  short,  I  think  it  •unnecessary  to  enter  into  the  general 
reasonings  whilk  have  this  day  been  delivered,  as  I  may  say, 
ex  cathedra  ;  nor  will  I  charge  our  worthy  Preses  with  an 
attempt  to  obtain  over  us,  per  mnhages,  and  under  color  of 
an  act  of  parliament,  a  despotic  autliority,  inconsistent  with 
our  freedom  ;  but  this  I  will  say,  that  times  are  so  much 
changed  above  stairs,  that  whereas  last  year  you  might  have 
)btained  an  act  incorporating  a  stock-company  for  riddling 
ashes,  you  will  not  be  able  to  procure  one  this  year  for 
gathering  pearls.  What  signifies,  then,  wasting  the  time  of 
the  meeting,  by  inquiring  whether  or  not  we  ought  to  go  in 
at  a  door  which  we  know  to  be  bolted  and  barred  in  our  face, 
and  in  the  face  of  all  the  companies  for  fire  or  air,  land  or 
water,  which  we  have  of  late  seen  blighted  ?  " 

Here  there  was  a  general  clamor,  seemingly  of  approba- 
tion, in  which  the  words  might  be  distinguished,  '*  Needless 
to  think  of  it" — "  Money  thrown  away  " — "  Lost  before  the 
committee,"  etc.  etc.  etc.  But  above  the  tumult,  the  voices 
of  two  gentlemen,  in  different  corners  of  the  room,  answered 
each  other  clear  and  loud,  like  the  blows  of  the  two  figures 


XX  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

on  St.  Dunstan's  clock  ;  and  althongli  the  Chairman,  in 
much  agitation,  endeavored  to  silence  them,  his  interrup- 
tion had  only  the  effect  of  cutting  their  words  up  into 
syllables,  thus — 

First  Voice.     "  The  Lord  Chan " 

Second  Voice.     "  The  Lord  Lau " 

Chairman  (loudly).     "  Scamlaluni  mag7iatum  ! " 

First  Voice.   "  The  Lord  Chancel " 

Second  Voice.   "  The  Lord  Lauder " 

Chairman  (louder  yet).   "  Breach  of  privilege  I" 

First  Voice.   "  The  Lord  Chancellor " 

Second  Voice.   "  My  Lord  Lauderdale " 

Chairman  (at  the  highest  pitch  of  his  voice).  "  Called  be- 
fore the  House  ! " 

Both  Voices  together.     "  Will  never  consent  to  such  a  bill." 

A  general  assent  seemed  to  follow  this  last  proposition, 

which  was  propounded  with  as  much  emphasis  as  could  be 

contributed  by  the  united  clappers  of  the  whole  meeting, 

joined  to  those  of  the  voices  already  mentioned. 

Several  persons  present  seemed  to  consider  the  business  of 
the  meeting  as  ended,  and  were  beginning  to  handle  their 
hats  and  canes,  with  a  view  to  departure,  when  the  Chair- 
man, who  had  thrown  himself  back  in  his  chair  with  an  air 
of  manifest  mortification  and  displeasure,  again  drew  him- 
self up,  and  commanded  attention.  All  stopped,  though 
some  shrugged  their  shoulders,  as  if  untler  the  predominat- 
ing influence  of  what  is  called  a  "bore."  But  the  tenor  of 
his  discourse  soon  excited  anxious  attention. 

"  I  perceive,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  like  the 
young  birds,  who  are  impatient  to  leave  their  mother's  nest ; 
take  care  your  own  pin-feathers  are  strong  enough  to  support 
you,  since,  as  for  my  part,  I  am  tired  of  supporting  on  my 
wing  such  a  set  of  ungrateful  gulls.  But  it  signifies  nothing 
speaking — I  will  no  longer  avail  myself  of  such  weak  minis- 
ters as  you  :  I  will  discard  you — I  will  unbeget  you,  as  Sir 
Anthony  Absolute  says— I  will  leave  you  and  your  whole 
hacked  stock  in  trade — your  caverns  and  your  castles — your 
modern  antiques  and  your  antiquated  moderns — your  confu- 
sion of  times,  manners  and  circumstances — your  properties, 
as  player-folk  say  of  scenery  and  dresses — the  whole  of  your 
exhausted  expedients,  to  the  fools  who  choose  to  deal  with 
them.  I  will  vindicate  my  own  fame  with  my  own  right 
hand,  without  appealing  to  such  halting  assistants. 

Whom  I  have  used  for  sport,  rather  than  need. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BETROTHED  xxi 

I  Avill  lay  my  foundations  better  than  on  quicksands.  I  will 
rear  my  structure  of  better  materials  than  painted  cards  ;  in 
a  word,  I  will  write  History  I" 

There  was  a  tumult  of  surprise,  amid  which  our  reporter 
detected  the  following  expressions — ' '  The  devil  you  will  ! " 
— ''You,  my  dear  sir — you?" — ''The  old  gentleman  for- 
gets that  he  is  the  greatest  liar  since  Sir  John  Mandeville." 

"  Not  the  worse  historian  for  that,"  said  Oldbuck,  "since 
history,  you  know,  is  half  fiction." 

"  I'll  answer  for  that  half  being  forthcoming,"  said  the 
former  speaker  ;  "  but  for  the  scantling  of  truth  which  is 
necessary  after  all.  Lord  help  us  !  Geofi;rey  of  Monmouth 
will  be  Lord  Clarendon  to  him." 

As  the  confusion  began  to  abate,  more  than  one  member 
of  the  meeting  was  seen  to  touch  his  forehead  significantly, 
while  Captain  Clutterbuck  hummed, 

•'  Be  by  your  friends  advised, 
Too  rash,  too  hasty,  dad, 
Maugre  your  bolts  and  wise  head, 
The  world  will  think  you  mad. " 

"The  world,  and  you,  gentlemen,  may  think  what  you 
please,"  said  the  Chairman,  elevating  his  voice  ;  "  but  I 
intend  to  write  the  most  wonderful  book  which  the  world 
ever  read — a  book  in  which  every  incident  shall  be  incred- 
ible, yet  strictly  true — a  work  recalling  recollections  with 
which  the  ears  of  this  generation  once  tingled,  and  which 
shall  be  read  by  our  children  with  an  admiration  approach- 
ing to  incredulity.  Such  shall  be  the  Life  of  Napoleon" 
Bonaparte,  by  the  Author  of  Waverley  !" 

In  the  general  start  and  exclamation  which  followed  this 
annunciation,  Mr.  Oldbuck  dropped  his  snuif-box  ;  and  the 
Scottish  rappee,  which  dispersed  itself  in  consequence,  had 
effects  upon  the  nasal  organs  of  our  reporter,  ensconced  aS 
he  was  under  the  secretary's  table,  which  occasioned  his 
being  discovered  and  extruded  in  the  illiberal  and  unhand- 
some manner  we  have  mentioned,  with  threats  of  farther 
damage  to  his  nose,  ears,  and  other  portions  of  his  body, 
on  the  part  especially  of  Captain  Clutterbuck.  Undis- 
mayed by  these  threats,  which  indeed  those  of  his  profes- 
sion are  accustomed  to  hold  at  defiance,  our  young  man 
hovered  about  the  door  of  the  tavern,  but  could  only  bring 
us  the  further  intelligence,  that  the  meeting  had  broken 
up  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  his  expulsion,  in 
much-admired  disoraer. 


THE  BETROTHED 


CHAPTEK  I 

Now  in  these  dayes  were  hotte  wars  upon  the  marches  of  "Wales. 

Lewis's  History. 

The  chronicles  from  which  this  narrative  is  extracted  assure 
us  that,  during  the  long  period  when  the  AVelsh  princes 
maintained  their  independence,  the  year  1187  was  peculiarly- 
marked  as  favorable  to  peace  betwixt  them  and  their  warlike 
neighbors,  the  Lords  Marchers,  who  inhabited  those  formid- 
able castles  on  the  frontiers  of  the  ancient  British  on  the 
ruins  of  which  the  traveler  gazes  with  wonder.  This  was 
the  time  when  Baldwin,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  accom- 
panied by  the  learned  Giraldus  de  Barri,  afterwards  Bishop 
of  St.  David's,  preached  the  Crusade  from  castle  to  castle, 
from  town  to  town  ;  awakened  the  inmost  valleys  of  his 
native  Cambria  with  the  call  to  arms  for  recovery  of  the  Holy 
Sepulcher ;  and,  while  he  deprecated  the  feuds  and  wars  of 
Christian  men  against  each  other,  held  out  to  the  martial 
spirit  of  the  age  a  general  object  of  ambition,  and  a  scene  of 
adventure  where  the  favor  of  Heaven,  as  well  as  of  earthly 
renown,  was  to  reward  the  successful  champions. 

Yet  the  British  chieftains,  among  the  thousands  whom  this 
spirit-stirring  summons  called  from  their  native  land  to  a 
distant  and  perilous  expedition,  had  perhaps  the  best  excuse 
for  declining  the  summons.  The  superior  skill  of  the  Anglo- 
Norman  knights,  who  were  engaged  in  constant  inroads  on 
the  Welsh  frontier,  and  who  were  frequently  detaching  from 
it  large  portions,  which  they  fortified  with  castles,  thus  mak- 
ing good  what  they  had  won,  was  avenged,  indeed,  but  not 
compensated,  by  the  furious  inroads  of  the  British,  who,  like 
the  billows  of  a  retiring  tide,  rolled  on  successively  with  noise, 
fury,  and  devastation  ;  but,  on  each  retreat,  yielded  ground 
insensibly  to  their  invaders. 

A  union  among  the  native  princes  might  hftve  opposed  a 


4  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

connecting  them  were  garnished  with  archers  and  men-at- 
arms. 

They  proceeded  to  the  banquet,  at  which  Gwenwyn,  for 
the  first  time,  beheld  Eveline  Berenger,  the  sole  child  of  the 
Norman  castellane,  the  inheritor  of  his  domains  and  of  his 
supposed  wealth,  aged  only  sixteen,  and  the  most  beautiful 
damsel  upon  the  Welsh  marches.  Many  a  spear  had  already 
been  shivered  in  maintenance  of  her  charms  ;  and  the  gallant 
Hugo  de  Lacy,  Constable  of  Chester,  one  of  the  most  re- 
doubted warriors  of  the  time,  had  laid  at  Eveline's  feet  the 
prize  which  his  chivalry  had  gained  in  a  great  tournament 
held  near  that  ancient  town.  Gwenwyn  considered  these 
triumphs  as  so  many  additional  recommendations  to  Eve- 
line ;  her  beauty  was  incontestable,  and  she  was  heiress  of 
the  fortress  which  he  so  much  longed  to  possess,  and  which 
he  began  now  to  think  might  be  acquired  by  means  more 
smooth  than  those  with  which  he  was  in  the  use  of  working 
out  his  will. 

Again,  the  hatred  which  subsisted  between  the  British 
and  their  Saxon  and  Norman  invaders,  his  long  and  ill- 
extinguished  feud  with  this  very  Raymond  Berenger,  a 
general  recollection  that  alliances  between  the  Welsh  and 
English  had  rarely  been  happy,  and  a  consciousness  that  the 
measure  which  he  meditated  would  be  unpopular  among  his 
followers,  and  appear  a  dereliction  of  the  systematic  princi- 
ples on  which  he  had  hitherto  acted,  restrained  him  from 
speaking  his  wishes  to  Raymond  or  his  daughter.  The  idea 
of  the  rejection  of  his  suit  did  not  for  a  moment  occur  to 
him  :  he  was  convinced  he  had  but  to  speak  his  wishes,  and 
that  the  daughter  of  a  Norman  castellane,  whose  rank  or 
power  were  not  of  the  highest  order  among  the  nobles  of  the 
frontiers,  must  be  delighted  and  honored  by  a  proposal  for 
allying  his  family  with  that  of  the  sovereign  of  a  hundred 
mountains. 

There  was  indeed  another  objection,  which  in  later  times 
would  have  been  of  considerable  weight— Gwenwyn  was 
already  married.  But  Brengwain  was  a  childless  bride  ; 
sovereigns,  and  among  sovereigns  the  Welsh  prince  ranked 
himself,  marry  for  lineage,  and  the  Pope  was  not  Jikely  to 
be  scrupulous  where  the  question  was  to  oblige  a  prince  who 
had  assumed  the  cross  with  such  ready  zeal,  even  although, 
in  fact,  his  thoughts  had  been  much  more  on  the  Garde 
Doloureuse  than  on  Jerusalem.  In  the  mean  while,  if  Ray- 
mond Berenger,  as  was  suspected,  was  not  liberal  enough  in 
his  opinions  to  permit  Eveline  to  hold  the  temporary  rank 


THE  BETROTHED  5 

of  concubine,  which  the  manners  of  Wales  warranted  Gwen- 
wyn  to  offer  as  an  interim  arrangement,  he  had  only  to  wait 
for  a  few  months,  and  sue  for  a  divorce  through  the  Bishop 
of  St.  David^s  or  some  other  intercessor  at  the  Court  of 
Eome. 

Agitating  these  thoughts  in  his  mind,  Gwenwyn  prolonged 
his  residence  at  the  castle  of  Berenger  from  Christmas  till 
Twelfth  Day ;  and  endured  the  presence  of  the  Norman  caval- 
iers who  resorted  to  Raymond's  festal  halls,  although,  regard- 
ing themselves,  in  virtue  of  their  rank  of  knighthood,  equal 
to  the  most  potent  sovereigns,  they  made  small  account  of  the 
long  descent  of  the  Welsh  prince,  who,  in  their  eyes,  was  but 
the  chief  of  a  semi-barbarous  province  ;  while  he,  on  his  part, 
considered  them  little  better  than  a  sort  of  privileged  robbers, 
and  with  the  utmost  difficulty  restrained  himself  from  mani- 
festing his  open  hatred,  when  he  beheld  them  careering  in 
the  exercises  of  chivalry,  the  habitual  use  of  which  rendered 
them  such  formidable  enemies  to  his  country.  At  length 
the  term  of  feasting  was  ended,  and  the  knight  and  squire 
departed  from  the  castle,  which  once  more  assumed  the 
aspect  of  a  solitary  and  guarded  frontier  fort. 

But  the  Prince  of  Powys  Land,  while  pursuing  his  sports 
on  his  own  mountains  and  valleys,  found  that  even  the  abun- 
dance of  the  game,  as  well  as  his  release  from  the  society  of 
the  Norman  chivalry,  who  affected  to  treat  him  as  an  equal, 
profited  him  nothing,  so  long  as  the  light  and  beautiful  form 
of  Eveline,  on  her  white  palfrey,  was  banishied  from  the  train 
of  sportsmen.  In  short,  he  hesitated  no  longer,  but  took  into 
his  confidence  his  chaplain,  an  able  and  sagacious  man,  whose 
pride  was  flattered  by  his  patron's  communication,  and  who, 
besides,  saw  in  the  proposed  scheme  some  contingent  advan- 
tages for  himself  and  his  order.  By  his  counsel  the  proceed- 
ing for  Gwenwyn's  divorce  were  prosecuted  under  favorable 
auspices,  and  the  unfortunate  Brengwain  was  removed  to  a 
nunnery,  which,  perhaps,  she  found  a  more  cheerful  habi- 
tation than  the  lonely  retreat  in  which  she  had  led  a  neg- 
lected life  ever  since  Gwenwyn  had  despaired  of  her  bed  being 
blessed  with  issue.  Father  Einion  also  dealt  with  the  chiefs 
and  elders  of  the  land,  and  represented  to  them  the  advan- 
tages which  in  future  wars  they  were  certain  to  obtain  by  the 
possession  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  which  had  for  more  than 
a  century  covered  and  protected  a  considerable  tract  of 
country,  rendered  their  advance  difficult,  and  their  retreat 
perilous,  and,  in  a  word,  prevented  their  carrying  their  in- 
cursions as  far  as  the  gates  of  Shrewsbury.     As  for  the 


6  WAVERLEY  IfOVELS 

union  with  tlie  Saxon  damsel,  the  fetters  which  it  was  to 
form  might  not,  the  good  father  hinted,  he  found  more  jjer- 
manent  than  those  which  had  bound  Gwenwyn  to  her  pre- 
decessor, Brengwain. 

Tliese  arguments,  mingled  with  others  adapted  to  the 
views  and  wishes  of  different  individuals,  were  so  prevailing, 
that  tlie  chaplain  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  was  able  to 
report  to  his  princely  patron  that  his  proposed  match  would 
meet  with  no  opposition  from  the  elders  and  nobles  of  his 
dominions.  A  golden  bracelet,  six  ounces  in  weight,  was 
tbe  instant  reward  of  the  priest's  dexterity  in  negotiation, 
and  he  was  appointed  by  Gwenwyn  to  commit  to  paper  those 
proposals  which  he  doubted  not  were  to  throw  the  Castle  of 
Garde  Doloureuse,  notwithstanding  its  melancholy  name, 
into  an  ecstacy  of  joy.  With  some  difficulty  the  chaplain 
prevailed  on  his  patron  to  say  nothing  in  this  letter  upon  his 
temporary  plan  of  concubinage,  which  he  wisely  judged 
might  be  considered  as  an  affront  both  by  Eveline  and  her 
father.  The  matter  of  the  divorce  he  represented  as  almost 
entirely  settled,  and  wound  up  his  letter  with  a  moral  ap- 
plication, in  which  were  many  illusions  to  Vashti,  Esther, 
and  Ahasuerus. 

Having  despatched  this  letter  by  a  swdftand  trusty  messen- 
ger, the  British  prince  oj^ened  in  all  solemnity  the  feast  of 
Easter,  which  had  come  round  during  the  course  of  these 
external  and  internal  negotiations. 

Upon  the  approaching  holy-tide,  to  propitiate  the  minds 
of  his  subjects  and  vassals,  they  were  invited  in  large  num- 
Ijers  to  partake  a  princely  festivity  at  Castell  Coch,  or  the 
Eed  Castle,  as  it  was  then  called,  since  better  known  by  the 
name  of  Powys  Castle,  and  in  latter  times  the  princely  seat 
of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort.  The  architectural  magnificence 
of  this  noble  residence  is  of  a  much  later  period  than  that 
of  Gwenwyn,  whose  palace,  at  the  time  we  speak  of,  was  a 
iong,  low-roofed  edifice  of  red  stone,  whence  the  castle  de- 
rived its  name  ;  while  a  ditch  and  palisade  were,  in  addition 
to  the  commanding  situation,  its  most  important  defenses. 


CHAPTER  II 

In  Madoc's  tent  the  clarion  sounds, 

With  rapid  clangor  hurried  far  ; 
Each  hill  and  dale  the  note  rebounds, 

But  when  return  the  sons  of  war  ? 
Thou,  born  of  stern  necessity, 
Dull  peace  !  the  valley  yields  to  thee, 

And  owns  thy  melancholy  sway. 

Welsh  Poem. 

The  feasts  of  the  ancient  British  princes  usually  exhibited 
all  the  ritde  splendor  and  liberal  indulgence  of  mountain 
hospitality,  andGwenvvyn  was,  on  the  present  occasion,  anx- 
ious to  purchase  popularity  by  even  an  usual  display  of  pro- 
fusion ;  for  he  was  sensible  that  the  alliance  which  he  med- 
itated might  indeed  be  tolerated,  but  could  not  be  approved, 
by  his  subjects  and  followers. 

The  following  incident,  trifling  in  itself,  confirmed  his 
apprehensions.  Passing  one  evening,  when  it  was  become 
nearly  dark,  by  the  open  window  of  a  guard-room,  usually 
occupied  by  some  few  of  his  most  celebrated  soldiers,  who 
relieved  each  other  in  watching  his  palace,  he  heard  Mor- 
gan, a  man  distinguished  for  strength,  courage,  and  feroc- 
ity, say  to  the  companion  with  whom  he  was  sitting  by  the 
watch-fire,  "  Gwenwyn  is  turned  to  a  priest  or  a  woman  ! 
When  was  it  before  these  last  months  that  a  follower  of  his 
was  obliged  to  gnaw  the  meat  from  the  bone  so  closely  as  I 
am  now  peeling  the  morsel  which  I  hold  in  my  hand  ?"* 

"  Wait  but  a  while,"  replied  his  comrade,  "till  the  Nor- 
man match  be  accomplished  ;  and  so  small  will  be  the  prey 
we  sliall  then  drive  from  the  Saxon  churls,  that  we  may  be 
glad  to  swallow,  like  hungry  dogs,  the  very  bones  them- 
selves." 

Gwenwyn  heard  no  more  of  their  conversation  ;  but  this 
was  enough  to  alarm  his  pride  as  a  soldier  and  his  jealousy 
as  a  prince.  He  was  sensible  that  the  people  over  whom  he 
ruled  were  at  once  fickle  in  their  disposition,  impatient  of 
long  repose,  and  full  of  hatred  against  their  _  neighbors  ; 
and  he  almost  dreaded  the  consequences  of  the  inactivity  to 

♦  See  Taunt  of  Effeminacy.    Note  1 
7 


8  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

whicli  a  long  truce  might  reduce  them.  The  risk  was  now 
incurred,  however ;  and  to  display  even  more  than  his 
wonted  splendor  and  liberalit}'  seemed  the  best  way  of  rec- 
onciling the  wavering  affections  of  his  subjects. 

A  Norman  would  have  despised  the  barbarous  magnif- 
icence of  an  entertainment  consisting  of  kine  and  sheep 
roasted  whole,  of  goats'  flesh  and  deer's  flesh  seethed  in  the 
skins  of  the  animals  themselves ;  for  the  Normans  piqued 
themselves  on  the  quality  rather  than  the  quantity  of  their 
food,  and,  eating  rather  delicately  than  largely,  ridiculed 
the  coarser  taste  of  the  Britons,  although  the  last  were  in 
their  banquets  much  more  moderate  than  were  the  Saxons  ; 
nor  would  the  oceans  of  "  crw  "  and  hydromel,  which  over- 
whelmed the  guests  like  a  deluge,  have  made  up,  in  their 
opinion,  for  the  absence  of  the  more  elegant  and  costly 
beverage  which  they  had  learned  to  love  in  the  south  of 
Europe.  Milk  prepared  in  various  M'ays  was  another  ma- 
terial of  the  British  entertainment  which  would  not  have 
received  their  approbation,  although  a  nutriment  which,  on 
ordinary  occasions,  often  suiDplied  the  want  of  all  others 
among  "the  ancient  inhabitants,  whose  country  was  rich  in 
flocks  and  herds,  but  poor  in  agricultural  produce. 

The  banquet  was  spread  in  a  long  low  hall,  built  of  rough 
wood  lined  with  shingles,  having  a  fire  at  each  end,  the 
smoke  of  which,  unable  to  find  its  Avay  through  the  imper- 
fect chimneys  in  the  roof,  rolled  in  cloudy  billows  above 
the  heads  of  the  revelers,  who  sat  on  low  seats  purposely  to 
avoid  its  stifling  fumes.*  The  mien  and  appearance  of  the 
company  assembled  was  wild,  and,  even  in  their  social  hours, 
almost  terrific.  Their  prince  himself  had  the  gigantic  port 
and  fiery  eye  fitted  to  sway  an  unruly  people  whose  delight 
was  in  the 'field  of  battle  ;  and  the  long  mustachios  which  he 
and  most  of  his  champions  wore  added  to  the  formidable 
dignity  of  his  presence.  Like  most  of  those  present, 
Gwenwyn  vv^as  clad  in  a  simple  tuiiic  of  white  linen  cloth,  a 
remnant  of  the  dress  which  the  Romans  had  introduced  into 
provincial  Britain  ;  and  he  was  distinguished  by  the  eudor- 
chaivg,]  or  chain  of  twisted  gold  links,  with  which  the  Celtic 
tribes  always  decorated  their  chiefs.  The  collar,  indeed, 
representing  in  form  the  species  of  links  made  by  children 
out  of  rushes,  was  common  to  chieftains  of  inferior  rank, 
many  of  whom  bore  it  in  virtue  of  their  birth,  or  had  won 
it  by  military  exploits  ;  but  a  ring  of  gold,  bent  around  the 

*  See  Welsh  Houses.     Note  2.  \  See  Note  3. 


THE  BETROTHED  9 

head,  intermingled  with  Gwenwyn's  hair  ;  for  he  claimed 
the  rank  of  one  of  three  diademed  princes  of  Wales,  and  his 
armlets  and  anklets  of  the  same  metal  were  peculiar  to  the 
Prince  of  Powys,  as  an  independent  sovereign.  Two  squires 
of  his  body,  who  dedicated  their  whole  attention  to  his  ser- 
vice, stood  at  the  Prince's  back  ;  and  at  his  feet  sat  a  page, 
whose  duty  it  was  to  keep  them  warm  by  chafing  and  by 
wrapping  them  in  his  mantle.  The  same  right  of  sover- 
eignty which  assigned  to  Gwenwyn  his  golden  crownlet 
gave  him  a  title  to  the  attendance  of  the  foot-bearer,  or 
youth,  who  lay  on  the  rushes,  and  whose  duty  it  was  to 
cherish  the  Prince's  feet  in  his  lap  or  bosom.* 

Notwithstanding  the  military  disi>osition  of  the  guests, 
and  the  danger  arising  from  the  feuds  into  Avhich  they  were 
divided,  few  of  the  feasters  wore  any  defensive  armor  except 
the  light  goat-skin  buckler,  which  hung  behind  each  man's 
seat.  On  the  other  hand,  they  were  well  provided  with 
offensive  weapons  ;  for  the  broad,  sharp,  short,  two-edged 
sword  was  another  legacy  of  the  Eomans.  Most  added  a 
wood-knife  or  poniard  ;  and  there  were  store  of  javelins, 
darts,  bows  and  arrows,  pikes,  halberds,  Danish  axes,  and 
Welsh  hooksand  bills  ;  so,  in  case  of  ill-blood  arising  during 
the  banquet,  there  was  no  lack  of  weapons  to  work  mischief. 

But  although  the  form  of  the  feast  was  somewhat  dis- 
orderly, and  that  the  revelers  were  unrestrained  by  the 
stricter  rules  of  good-breeding  which  the  laws  of  chivalry 
imposed,  the  Easter  banquet  of  Gwenwyn  possessed,  in  the 
attendance  of  twelve  eminent  bards,  one  source  of  the  most 
exalted  pleasure  in  a  much  higher  degree  than  the  proud 
Normans  could  themselves  boast.  The  latter,  it  is  true,  had 
their  minstrels,  a  race  of  men  trained  to  the  profession  of 
poetry,  song,  and  music  ;  but  although  those  arts  were  highly 
honored,  and  the  individual  professors,  when  they  attained 
to  eminence,  were  often  richly  rev^arded  and  treated  with 
distinction,  the  order  of  minstrels,  as  such,  was  held  in  low 
esteem,  being  composed  chiefly  of  worthless  and  dissolute 
strollers,  by  whom  the  art  was  assumed  in  order  to  escape 
from  the  necessity  of  labor,  and  to  have  the  means  of  pursu- 
ing a  wandering  and  dissipated  course  of  life.  Such,  in  all 
times,  has  been  the  censure  upon  the  calling  of  those  who 
dedicate  themselves  to  the  public  amusement ;  among  whom 
those  distinguished  by  individual  excellence  are  sometimes 
raised  high  in  the  social  circle,  while  far  the  more  numerous 

*  See  Foot-pages.    Note  4. 


10  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

f)rofessors,  who  only  reach  mediocrity,  are  sunk  into  the 
ower  scale.  But  such  was  not  the  case  with  the  order  of 
bards  in  Wales,  who,  succeeding  to  the  dignity  of  the  Druids, 
under  whom  they  had  originally  formed  a  subordinate  frater- 
nity, had  many  immunities,  were  held  in  the  highest  rever- 
ence and  esteem,  and  exercised  much  influence  with  their 
countrymen.  Their  power  over  the  public  mind  even  rivaled 
that  of  the  priests  themselves,  to  whom  indeed  they  bore 
some  resemblance  ;  for  they  never  wore  arms,  were  initiated 
into  their  order  by  secret  and  mystic  solemnities,  and  homage 
was  rendered  to  their  awen,  or  flow  of  poetic  inspiration,  as 
if  it  had  been  indeed  marked  with  a  divine  character.  Thus 
possessed  of  power  and  consequence,  the  bards  were  not  un- 
willing to  exercise  their  privileges,  and  sometimes,  in  doing 
so,  their  manners  frequently  savored  of  caprice. 

This  was  perhaps  the  case  with  Cadwallon,  the  chief 
bard  of  Gwenwyn,  and  who,  as  such,  was  expected  to  have 
poured  forth  the  tide  of  song  in  the  banqueting-hall  of 
his  prince.  But  neither  the  anxious  and  breathless  expec- 
tation of  the  assembled  chiefs  and  champions,  neither 
the  dead  silence  which  stilled  the  roaring  hall  when  his  harp 
was  reverently  placed  before  him  by  his  attendant,  nor  even 
the  commands  or  entreaties  of  the  Prince  himself,  could 
extract  from  Cadwallon  more  than  a  short  and  interrupted 
prelude  upon  the  instrument,  the  notes  of  which  arranged 
themselves  into  an  air  inexpressibly  mournful,  and  died  away 
in  silence.  The  Prince  frowned  darkly  on  the  bard,  who 
was  himself  far  too  deeply  lost  in  gloomy  thought  to  offer 
any  apology,  or  even  to  observe  his  displeasure.  Again  he 
touched  a  "few  wild  notes,  and,  raising  his  looks  upward, 
seemed  to  be  on  the  very  point  of  bursting  forth  into  a  tide 
of  song  similar  to  tfliose  with  which  this  master  of  his  art 
was  wont  to  enchant  his  hearers.  But  tlie  effort  was  in  vain  ; 
he  declared  that  his  right  hand  was  withered,  and  pushed 
the  instrument  from  him. 

A  murmur  went  round  the  company,  and  Gwenwyn  read 
in  their  aspects  that  they  received  the  unusual  silence  of 
Cadwallon  on  this  high  occasion  as  a  bad  omen.  He  called 
hastily  on  a  young  and  ambitious  bard  named  Caradoc  of 
Menwygent,  whose  rising  fame  was  likely  soon  to  vie  with 
the  established  reputation  of  Cadwallon,  and  summoned  him 
to  sing  something  which  might  command  the  applause  of 
his  sovereigTi  and  the  gratitude  of  the  company.  The  young 
man  was  ambitious,  and  understood  tlie  arts  of  a  courtier. 
He  commenced  a  poem,  in  which,  although  under  a  feigned 


TEE  BETROTHED  H 

name,  he  drew  such  a  poetic  picture  of  Eveline  Berenger 
tliat  Gwenwyn  was  enraptured  ;  and  wliile  all  who  had  seen 
the  beautiful  original  at  once  recognized  the  resemblance, 
the  eyes  of  the  Prince  confessed  at  once  his  passion  for  the 
subject  and  his  admiration  of  the  poet.  The  figures  of  Celtic 
poetry,  in  themselves  highly  imaginative,  were  scarce  suffi- 
cient for  the  enthusiasm  of  the  ambitious  bard,  rising  in  his 
tone  as  he  perceived  the  feelings  which  he  was  exciting. 
The  praises  of  the  Prince  mingled  with  those  of  the  Norman 
beauty  ;  and  "as  a  lion,"  said  the  poet,  "can  only  be  led 
by  the  hand  of  a  chaste  and  beautiful  maiden,  so  a  chief  can 
only  acknowledge  the  empire  of  the  most  virtuous,  the  most 
lovely  of  her  sex.  Who  asks  of  the  noonday  sun  in  what 
quarter  of  the  world  he  was  born  ?  and  who  shall  ask  oi  such 
charms  as  hers  to  what  country  they  owe  their  birth  ?  " 

Enthusiasts  in  pleasure  as  in  war,  and  possessed  of  imagi- 
nations which  answered  readily  to  the  summons  of  their 
poets,  the  Welsh  chiefs  and  leaders  united  in  acclamations 
of  applause  ;  and  the  song  of  the  bard  went  farther  to  ren- 
der popular  the  intended  alliance  of  the  Prince  than  had  all 
the  graver  arguments  of  his  priestly  precursor  in  the  same 
topic. 

Gwenwyn  himself,  in  a  transport  of  delight,  tore  off  the 
golden  bracelets  which  he  wore,  to  bestow  them  upon  a  bard 
whose  song  had  produced  an  effect  so  desirable  ;  and  said,  as 
he  looked  at  the  silent  and  sullen  Cadwallon,  "  The  silent 
harp  was  never  strung  with  golden  wires." 

''Prince,"  answered  the  bard,  whose  pride  was  at  least 
equal  to  that  of  Gwenwyn  himself,  "you  pervert  the  pro 
verb  of  Taliessin  :  it  is  the  flattering  harp  which  never 
lacked  golden  strings." 

Gwenwyn,  turning  sternlv  towards  him,  was  about  to  make 
an  angry  answer,  when  the  sudden  appearance  of  Jorworth, 
the  messenger  whom  he  had  despatched  to  Eaymond  Ber- 
enger, arrested  his  purpose.  This  rude  envoy  entered  the 
hall  barelegged,  excepting  the  sandals  of  goat-skin  which  he 
wore,  and  having  on  his  shoulder  a  cloak  of  the  same,  and 
a  short  javelin  in  his  hand.  The  dust  on  his  garments  and 
the  flush  on  his  brow  showed  with  what  hasty  zeal  his  errand 
had  been  executed.  Gwenwyn  demanded  of  him  eagerly, 
"What  news  from  Garde  Doloureuse,  Jorworth  ap  Jevan  ?" 

"I  bear  them  in  my  bosom,"  said  the  son  of  Jevan  ;  and, 
with  much  reverence,  he  delivered  to  the  Prince  a  packet, 
bound  with  silk,  and  sealed  with  the  impression  of  a  swan, 
the  ancient  cognizance  of  the  house  of  Berenger.     Himself 


12  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ignorant  of  writing  or  reading,  Gwenwyn,  in  anxions  haste, 
delivered  the  letter  to  Cadwalion,  who  usually  acted  as  sec- 
retary when  the  chaplain  was  not  in  jDreseuce,  as  chanced 
then  to  be  the  case.  Cadwalion,  looking  at  the  letter,  said 
briefly,  "  I  read  no  Latin.  Ill  betide  the  Norman  who  writes 
to  a  Prince  of  Powys  in  other  language  than  that  of  Britain  ! 
and  well  was  the  hour  when  that  noble  tongue  alone  was 
spoken  from  Tintadgei  to  Cairleon  ! " 

Gwenwyn  only  replied  to  him  with  an  angry  glance. 

"  Where  is  Father  Einion  ?  "  said  the  impatient  prince. 

"  He  assists  in  the  church,"  replied  one  of  his  attendants, 
*'  for  it  is  the  feast  of  St.  — '■ — " 

"  Were  it  the  feast  of  St.  David,"  said  Gwenwyn,  "  and 
were  the  pyx  between  his  hands,  he  must  come  hither  to  me 
instantly  ! " 

One  of  the  chief  henchmen  sprung  oif  to  command  his 
attendance,  and,  in  the  meantime,  Gwenwyn  eyed  the  letter 
containing  the  secret  of  his  fate,  but  which  it  required  an 
interpreter  to  read,  with  such  eagerness  and  anxiety,  that 
Caradoc,  elated  by  his  former  success,  threw  in  a  few  notes 
to  divert,  if  possible,  the  tenor  of  his  patron's  thoughts  dur- 
ing the  interval.  A  light  and  lively  air,  touched  by  a  hand 
which  seemed  to  hesitate,  like  the  submissive  voice  of  an  in- 
ferior fearing  to  interrupt  his  master's  meditations,  intro- 
duced a  stanza  or  two  applicable  to  the  subject. 

"  And  what  though  thou,  0  scroll,"  he  said,  apostrophiz' 
ing  the  letter,  which  lay  on  the  table  before  his  master, 
"  dost  speak  with  the  tongue  of  the  stranger  ?  Hath  not 
the  cuckoo  a  harsh  note,  and  yet  she  tells  us  of  green  bud 
and  springing  flowers  ?  What  if  thy  language  be  that  of 
the  stoled  priest,  is  it  not  the  same  which  binds  hearts  and 
hands  together  at  the  altar  ?  And  what  though  thou  delay 
est  to  render  up  thy  treasures,  are  not  all  pleasures  most 
sweet  when  enhanced  by  expectation  ?  What  were  the 
chase,  if  the  deer  dropped  at  our  feet  the  instant  he  started 
from  the  cover  ;  or  what  value  were  there  in  the  love  of  the 
^laiden,  were  it  yielded  without  coy  delay  ?" 

The  song  of  the  bard  was  here  broken  short  by  the  en- 
trance of  the  priest,  who,  hasty  in  obeying  the  summons  of 
his  impatient  master,  had  not  tarried  to  lay  aside  even  th 
stole  which  he  had  worn  in  the  holy  service  ;  and  many  of 
the  elders  thought  it  was  no  good  omen  that,  so  habited,  a 
priest  should  appear  in  a  festive  assembly,  and  amid  profane] 
minstrelsy. 

The  priest  opened  the  letter  of  the  Norman  baron,  and, 


THE  BETROTHED  13 

ruck  with  surprise  at  the  contents,  lifted  his  eyes  in 
■ence. 

"  Read  it ! "  exclaimed  the  fierce  Gwenwyn. 
"  So  please  you/'  replied  the  more  prudent  chaplain,  **a 
laller  company  were  a  fitter  audience." 
"  Read  it  aloud  !  "  repeated  the  Prince,  in  a  still  higher 
ne  :  "  there  sit  none  here  who  res^ject  not  the  honor  of 
leir  prince,  or  who  deserve  not  his  confidence.  Read  it,  I 
y,  aloud,  and  by  St.  David,  if  Raymond  the  Norman  hath 

ired " 

He  stopped  short,  and,  reclining  on  his  seat,  composed 
mself  to  an  attitude  of  attention  ;  but  it  was  easy  for  his 
llowers  to  fill  up  the  breach  in  his  exclamation  which  pru- 
mce  had  recommended. 

The  voice  of  the  chaplain  was  low  and  ill-assured  as  he 
ad  the  following  epistle  : — 

"  Raymond  Berenger,  the  noble  Norman  Knight,  Senes- 
lal  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  to  Gwenwyn,  Prince  of 
owys — May  peace  be  between  them  ! — sendeth  health. 

"  Your  letter,  craving  the  hand  of  our  daughter  Eveline 
eienger,  was  safely  delivered  to  us  by  your  servant,  Jor- 
orth  ap  Jevan,  and  we  thank  you  heartily  for  the  good 
eaning  therein  expressed  to  us  and  to  ours.  But,  con- 
iering  within  ourselves  the  difference  of  blood  and  lin- 
ige,  with  the  impediments  and  causes  of  offense  which  have 
ten  arisen  in  the  like  cases,  we  hold  it  fitter  to  match  our 
lughter  among  our  own  people  ;  and  this  by  no  case  in 
sparagement  of  you,  but  solely  for  the  weal  of  you,  of 
irselves,  and  of  our  mutual  dependants,  who  will  be  the 
ore  safe  from  the  risk  of  quarrel  betwixt  us,  that  we  essay 
3t  to  draw  the  bonds  of  our  intimacy  more  close  than  be- 
emeth.  The  sheep  and  the  goats  feed  together  in  peace 
1  the  same  pastures,  but  they  mingle  not  in  blood  or  race 
le  one  with  the  other.  Moreover,  our  daughter  Eveline 
ith  been  sought  in  marriage  by  a  noble  and  potent  Lord  of 
le  Marches,  Hugo  de  Lacy,  the  Constable  of  Chester,  to 
hich  most  honorable  suit  we  have  returned  a  favorable  an- 
swer. It  is  therefore  impossible  that  we  should  in  this 
atter  grant  to  you  the  boon  you  seek  ;  nevertheless,  you 
lall  at  all  times  find  us,  in  other  matters,  willing  to  pleas- 
re  you  ;  and  hereunto  we  call  God.  and  Our  Lady,  and  St. 
ary  Magdalene  of  Quatford  to  witness,  to  whose  keeping 
e  heartily  recommend  you. 


14  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

"  Written  by  our  command,  at  our  Castle  of  Garde  Doloi, 
euse,  within  the  Marches  of  Wales,  by  a  reverend  prie;, 
Father  Aldrovand,  a  black  monk  of  the  house  of  Wenloc; 
and  to  which  we  have  ajDpended  our  seal,  upon  the  eve  I 
the  blessed  martyr  St.  Alphegius,  to  whom  be  honor  ai 
glory  ! " 

The  voice  of  Father  Einion  faltered,  and  the  scroll  whi  i 
he  held  in  his  hand  trembled  in  his  grasp,  as  he  arrived  t 
the  conclusion  of  this  epistle  ;  for  well  he  knew  that  insus 
more  slight  than  Gwenwyn  would  hold  the  least  word  t 
contained  were  sure  to  put  every  drop  of  his  British  blci 
into  the  most  vehement  commotion.  Nor  did  it  fail  to  o 
so.  The  Prince  had  gradually  drawn  himself  up  from  1e 
posture  of  repose  in  which  he  had  prepared  to  listen  to  te 
epistle  ;  and  when  it  concluded,  he  sprung  on  his  feet  l:je 
a  startled  lion,  spurning  from  him  as  he  rose  the  foot-bear;, 
who  rolled  at  some  distance  on  the  floor.  "  Priest,''  ;e 
said,  "hast  thou  read  that  accursed  scroll  fairly  ?  for  if  tha 
hast  added  or  diminished  one  word  or  one  letter  I  will  hjie 
thine  eyes  so  handled  that  thou  shalt  never  read  letir 
more."  ! 

The  monk  replied,  trembling,  for  he  was  well  aware  tji,t 
the  sacerdotal  character  was  not  uniformly  respected  amcjg 
the  irascible  Welshmen,  "  By  the  oath  of  my  order,  migly 
prince,  I  have  read  word  for  word  and  letter  for  letter.''  i 

Tliere  was  a  momentary  jDause,  while  the  fury  of  Gwen^vn 
at  this  unexpected  affront,  offered  to  him  in  the  presenceif 
all  his  ucJcelivyr  {i.  e.  noble  chiefs,  literally  men  of  h;h 
stature),  seemed  too  big  for  utterance,  when  the  silence  ^jB 
broken  by  a  few  notes  from  the  hitherto  mute  harp  of  Ci- 
wallon.  The  Prince  looked  round  at  first  with  dis^ileas  'e 
at  the  interruption,  for  he  was  himself  about  to  speak  ;  it 
when  he  beheld  the  bard  bending  over  his  harp  with  an  ir 
of  inspiration,  and  blending  together,  with  unexamp^d 
skill,  the  wildest  and  most  exalted  tones  of  his  art,  he  h  i- 
self  became  an  auditor  instead  of  a  speaker,  and  Cadwall  i, 
not  the  Prince,  seemed  to  become  the  central  point  of  le 
assembly,  on  whom  all  eyes  were  bent,  and  to  whom  e  h 
ear  was  turned  with  breathless  eagerness,  as  if  his  striis 
were  the  responses  of  an  oracle. 

"  We  wed  not  with  the  stranger,"  thus  burst  the  s<f.g 
from  the  lips  of  the  poet.  "  Vortigern  wedded  with  .le 
stranger;  thence  came  the  first  woe  upon  Britain,  an  a 
sword  upon  her  nobles,  and  a  thunderbolt  upon  her  pahe. 


TEE  BETROTHED  15 

'"  IVewed  not  with  the  enskived  Saxon  :  the  free  and  princely 

tag  seeks  not  for  his  bride  the  heifer  whose  neck   the  yoke 

-lath  worn.     We  wed  not  witli  the   rapacious  Norman  :  the 

"'''^Mioble  hound  scorns  to  seek  a  mate  from  the  herd  of  ravening 

*  Solves.     When  was  it  heard  that  the  Cymry,  the  descendants 

»f  Brute,  the  true  children  of  the  soil  of  fair  Britain,  were 

)lundered,  oppressed,  bereft  of  their  birthright,  and  insulted 

"hiikyenin  their  last  retreats — when,  but  since  they  stretched 

rrivei  heir  hand  in  friendship  to  the  stranger,  and  clasped  to  their 

iitiraljosoms  the  daughter  of  the  Saxon  ?     Which  of  the  two  is 

word  eared — the  empty  water-course  of  summer  or  the  channel  of 

'■I'tk:  he  headlong  winter  torrent  ?     A  maiden  smiles  at  the  sum- 

'""oiner-shrunk  brook  while  she  crosses   it,  but  a  barbed  horse 

l>wti,nd  his  rider  will  fear  to  stem  the  Avintry  flood.     Mer  of 

'  ilathravel   and    Powys,   be   the  dreaded   flood    of   winter! 

Twenwyn,  son  of  Cyveiliock,  may  thy  plume  be  the  topmost 

■■'"'•i-jif  its  waves  \" 

fiest,"l|  All  thoughts  of  peace — thoughts  which  in  themselves 
"riftlilere  foreign  to  the  hearts  of  the  warlike  British — passed 
«'ill blef ore  the  song  of  Cadwallon  like  dust  before  the  whirlwind, 
111  lets|,nd  the  unanimous  shout  of  the  assembly  declared  for  instant 
i^ar.  The  Prince  himself  spoke  not,  but,  looking  proudly 
.round  him,  flung  abroad  his  arm,  as  one  who  cheers  his  fol- 
iiMpwers  to  the  attack. 

The  priest,  had  he  dared,  might  have  reminded  Gwenwyn 
hat  the  cross  which  he  had   assumed  on  liis  shoulder  had 
onsecrated  his  arm  to   the  Holy  War,  and  precluded  his 
ngaging  in  any  civil  strife.     But  the  task  was  too  danger- 
ins  for  Father  Einion's  courage,  and  he  shrunk  from  thehall 
ileiiceijb  the  seclusion  of  his  own  convent.      Caradoc,  whose  brief 
lOur  of  popularity  was   passed,  also  retired,  with  humbled 
■  nd  dejected  looks,  and  not  without  a  glance  of  indignation 
.:  it  his  triumphant  rival,  who  had  so  judiciously  reserved  his 
111  1111  j.isplay  of  art  for  the  theme  of  war,  that  was  ever  most  pop- 
I'xanifj.lar  with  the  audience. 

,  lie  S   The  chiefs  resumed  their  seats  no  longer  for  the  purpose 

;iilffiill|'f  festivity,  but   to   fix,   in   the    hasty   manner  customary 

"ift'.mong  these  prompt  warriors,  where  they  were  to  assemble 

heir  forces,   which,  upon  such    occasions,    comprehended 

-iilmost   all  the  able-bodied  males  of  the  country — for  all, 

jixcepting  the  priests  and  the  bards,  were  soldiers — and  to 

tlieilettle  the  order  of  their  descent  upon  the  devoted  marches, 

nitlirhere  they  proposed  to  signalize,  by  general  ravage,  their 

;i,  ialense  of  the  insult  which  their  prince  had  received,  by  the 


iiiveiii] 
■ri'seiice! 


ajection  of  his  suit. 


CHAPTER  in 

The  sands  are  number'd  that  make  up  my  life  ; 
Here  mast  I  stay,  and  here  my  Ufe  must  end. 

Henry  VI.  Act  I.  Scene  IV. 


When  Eaymond  Berenger  had  despatched  his  mission  to 
the  Prince  of  Powys,  he  was  not  unsuspicious,  though  alto- 
gether fearless,  of  the  result.  He  sent  messengers  to  the 
several  dependants  who  held  their  fiefs  by  the  tenure  of 
"  cornage,"  and  warned  them  to  be  on  the  alert,  that  he  -^ 
might  receive  instant  notice  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy, 
These  vassals,  as  is  well  known,  occupied  the  numerous 
towers  which,  like  so  many  falcon-nests,  had  been  built  on  th( 
points  most  convenient  to  defend  the  frontiers,  and  wert 
bound  to  give  signal  of  any  incursion  of  the  Welsh,  by  blow 
ing  their  horns  ;  which  sounds,  answered  from  tower  to  towe: 
and  from  station  to  station,  gave  the  alarm  for  general  de 
fense.  But  although  Raymond  considered  these  precaution 
as  necessary,  from  the  fickle  and  precarious  temper  of  hi 
neighbors,  and  for  maintaining  his  own  credit  as  a  soldier 
he  was  far  from  believing  the  danger  to  be  imminent ;  fo 
the  preparations  of  the  Welsh,  though  on  a  much  more  exter 
sive  scale  than  had  lately  been  usual,  were  as  secret  as  thej 
resolution  of  war  had  been  suddenly  adopted. 

It  was  upon  the  second  morning  after  the  memorabl 
festival  of  Castell  Ooch  that  the  tempest  broke  on  the  Noi  ^^ 
man  frontier.  At  first  a  single,  long,  and  keen  bugle-bla,' 
announced  the  approach  of  the  enemy  ;  presently  the  sign 
of  alarm  were  echoed  from  every  castle  and  tower  on  tl 
borders  of  Shropshire,  where  every  place  of  habitation  wil 
then  a  fortress.  Beacons  were  lighted  upon  crags  and  em' 
nences,  the  bells  were  rung  backward  in  the  churches  ai, 
towns,  while  the  general  and  earnest  summons  to  arms  a 
nounced  an  extremity  of  danger  which  even  the  inhabitan.i 
of  that  unsettled  country  had  not  hitherto  experienced. 

Amid   this   general   alarm,    Raymond    Berenger,    haviu 

busied  himself  in  arranging  his  few  but  gallant  followers  ad 

adherents,  and  taken  such  modes  of  procuring  intelligeu3 

of  the  enemy's  strength  and  motions  as  were  in  his  power,  t 

16 


THE  BETROTHED  l^ 

len^h  ascended  the  watch-tower  of  the  castle,  to  observe  in 
person  the  country  around,  already  obscured  in  several  places 
by  the  clouds  of  smoke  which  announced  the  progress  and 
the  ravages  of  the  invaders.  He  was  speedily  joined  by  his 
favorite  squire,  to  whom  the  unusual  heaviness  of  his  mas- 
ter's looks  was  cause  of  much  surprise,  for  till  now  they  had 
ever  been  blithest  at  the  hour  of  battle.  The  squire  held  in 
his  hand  his  master's  helmet,  for  Sir  Eaymond  was  all  armed 
saving  the  head. 

"  Dennis  Morolt,"  said  the  veteran  soldier,  '*are  our  vas- 
sals and  liegemen  all  mustered  ?  " 

"  All,  noble  sir,  but  the  Flemings,  who  are  not  yet  come 
in." 

"  The  lazy  hounds,  why  tarry  they  ?  "  said  Eaymond.  "  HI 
policy  it  is  to  plant  such  sluggish  natures  in  our  borders. 
They  are  like  their  own  steers,  fitter  to  tug  a  plow  than 
for  aught  that  requires  mettle." 

'•■  With  your  favor,"  said  Dennis,  "  the  knaves  can  do  good 
service  notwithstanding.  That  Wilkin  Flammock  of  the 
Green  can  strike  like  the  hammers  of  his  ewn  fulling- 
mill." 

"  He  will  fight,  I  believe,  when  he  cannot  help  it,"  said 
Kaymond  ;  "  but  he  has  no  stomach  for  such  exercise,  and 
is  as  slow  and  as  stubborn  as  a  mule." 

"  And  therefore  are  his  countrymen  rightly  matched 
against  the  Welsh,"  replied  Dennis  Morolt,  "  thattlieir  solid 
and  unyielding  temper  may  be  a  fit  foil  to  the  fiery  and  head- 
long dispositions  of  our  dangerous  neighbors,  just  as  restless 
waves  are  best  opposed  by  steadfast  rocks.  Hark,  sir,  1  hear 
Wilkin  Flammock's  step  ascending  the  turret-stair  as  delib- 
erately as  ever  monk  mounted  to  matins." 

Step  by  step  the  heavy  sound  approached,  until  the  form 
of  the  huge  and  substantial  Fleming  at  length  issued  from 
the  turret-door  to  the  platform  where  they  were  conversing. 
Wilkin  Flammock  was  cased  in  bright  armor,  of  unusual 
weight  and  thickness,  and  cleaned  with  exceeding  care,  which 
marked  the  neatness  of  his  nation  ;  but,  contrary  to  the 
custom  of  the  Normans,  entirely  plain,  and  void  of  carving, 
gilding,  or  any  sort  of  ornament.  The  base-net,  or  steel- 
cap,  had  no  visor,  and  left  exposed  a  broad  countenance, 
J  with  heavy  and  unpliable  features,  which  announced  the 
J  character  of  his  temper  and  understanding.  He  carried  in 
J    his  hand  a  heavy  mace. 

A        "So,  Sir  Fleming,"  said  the  castellane,  "you  are  in  no 
'l    hurry,  methinks,  to  repair  to  the  rendezvous." 


18  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"So  please  you,"  answered  the  Fleming,  ''we  were  com- 
pelled  to  tarry,  that  we  might  load  our  wains  with  our  bales  nr 
of  cloth  and  other  property." 

Ha  !  wains  !     How  many  wains  have  you  brought  with 


you^" 


Six,  noble  sir,"  replied  Wilkin.  iiaii: 

"  And  how  many  men  ?  "  demanded  Eaymond  Berenger.     Iiol 

"  Twelve,  valiant  sir,"  answered  Flammock. 

"  Only  two  men  to  each  baggage-wain  ?  I  wonder  you 
would  thus  encumber  yourself,"  said  Berenger. 

''  Under  your  favor,  sir,  once  more,"  rejilied  Wilkin,  "  it 
is  only  the  value  which  I  and  my  comrades  set  upon  our 
goods  that  inclines  us  to  defend  them  with  our  bodies  ;  and, 
had  we  been  obliged  to  leave  our  cloth  to  the  plundering  m 
clutches  of  yonder  vagabonds,  I  should  have  seen  small  fOD, 
policy  in  stopping  here  to  give  them  the  opportunity  of  '' 
adding  murder  to  robbery.  Gloucester  should  have  been  leni 
my  first  halting-place."  _  ive 

The  Norman  knight  gazed  on  the  Flemish  artisan,  for' 
such  was  Wilkin  Flammock,  with  such  a  mixture  of  surprise 
and  contempt  as  excluded  indignation.  ''I  have  heard 
much,"  he  said,  "  but  this  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  heard 
one  with  a  beard  on  his  lip  avouch  himself  a  coward." 

"  Nor  do  you  hear  it  now,"  answered  Flammock,  with 
the  utmost  composure.  "I  am  always  ready  to  fight  for 
life  and  property  ;  and  my  coming  to  this  country,  where 
they  are  both  in  constant  danger,  shows  that  I  care  not 
much  how  often  I  do  so.  But  a  sound  skin  is  better  than  a 
slashed  one,  for  all  that." 

"  Well,"  said  Eaymond  Berenger,  "  fight  after  thine  own 
fashion,  so  thou  wilt  but  fight  stoutly  with  that  long  body 
of  thine.  We  are  like  to  have  need  for  all  that  we  can  do. 
Saw  you  aught  of  these  rascaille  Welsh  ?  Have  they  Gweu- 
wyn's  banner  amongst  them  ?  " 

"  I  saw  it  with  the  white  dragon  displayed,"  replied  litin, 
Wilkin  :  "I  could  not  but  know  it,  since  it  was  broidered  ijifo; 
in  my  own  loom." 

Eaymond  looked  so  grave  upon  this  intelligence,  that 
Dennis  Morolt,  unwilling  the  Fleming  should  mark  it, 
tliought  it  necessary  to  withdraw  his  attention.  "  I  can  tell 
thee,"  he  said  to  Flammock,  "  that,  when  the  Constable  of 
Chester  joins  us  with  his  lances,  you  shall  see  your  handi- 
work, the  dragon,  fly  faster  homeward  than  ever  flew  the  L 
shuttle  which  wove  it."  ,     rljH 

"It   must  fly   before  the   Constable  comes   up,  Dennis 


e:  \ 


i'utm 


THE  BETROTHED  10 

■ff»i   [orolt,"  said  Berenger,  '*  else  it  will  fly  triumphant  over  all 

rlja.  |nr  bodies." 

"  In  the  name  of  God  and  the  Holy  Virgin  !  "  said  Dennis, 
what  may  you  mean,  sir  knight  ? — not  that  we  shonld 
jht  with  the  Welsh  before  the  Constable  joins  ns?^'  He 
ansed,  and  then,  well  understanding  the  firm  yet  melan- 
loly  glance  with  which  his  master  answered  the  question, 
proceeded,  with  yet  more  vehement  earnestness,  ''You 
mnot  mean  it — you  cannot  intend  that  we  shall  quit  this 
istle,  which  we  liave  so  often  made  good  against  them,  and 
iin,":  mtend  in  the  field  witli  two  hundred  men  against  thou- 
nds  ?  Think  better  of  it,  my  beloved  master,  and  let  not 
le  rashness  of  your  old  age  blemish  that  character  for 
isdom  and  warlike  skill  which  your  former  life  basso  nobly 
on."  ^  ^ 

I  am  not  angry  with  you  for  blaming;  my  pur|)ose, 
ennis,"  answered  the  Norman,  *'  for  I  know  you  do  it  in 
ve  to  me  and  mine.     But,  Dennis  Morolt,  this  thing  must 

:  we  must  fight  the  Welshmen  within  these  three  hours, 
•  the  name  of  Eaymond  Berenger  must  be  blotted  from  the 

nealogy  of  bis  house." 

"And  so  we  will — we  will  fight  them,  my  noble  master,*' 
id  the  esquire ;  "  fear  not  cold  counsel  from  Dennis 
orolt,  where  battle  is  the  them:^.  But  we  will  fight 
lem  under  the  walls  of  the  castle,  with  honest  Wilkin 
lammock  and  his  cross-bows  on  the  wall  to  protect  our 
inks,  and  afford  us  some  balance  against  the  numerous 
Ids." 

Not  so,  Dennis,"  answered  his  master — "in  the  open 
jld  we  must  fight  them,  or  thy  master  must  rank  but  as  a 
an-sworn  knight.  Know,  that  when  I  feasted  yonder  wily 
vage  in  my  halls  at  Christmas,  and  when  the  wine  was 
)wing  fastest  around,  Gwenwyn  threw  out  some  praises  of 
e  fastness  and  strength  of  my  castle,  in  a  manner  which 
timated  it  was  these  advantages  alone  that  had  secured  me 

former  wars  from  defeat  and  captivity.  I  spoke  in  answer, 
hen  I  had  far  better  been  silent ;  for  what  availed  my  idle 
)ast,  but  as  a  fetter  to  bind  me  to  a  deed  next  to  madness  ? 
1,'  I  said,  '  a  prince  of  the  Cymry  shall  again  come  iu 
)stile  fashion  before  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  let  him  pitch 
standard  down  in  yonder  plain  by  the  bridge,  and,  by 
word  of  a  good  knight  and  the  faith  of  a  Christian  man, 
aymond  Berenger  will  meet  him  as  willingly,  be  he  many 

be  he  few,  as  ever  Welshman  was  met  withal.*" 
PejE    Dennis  was  struck  speechless  when  he  heard  of  a  promise 


20  WAVEELET  NOVELS 

80  rash,  so  fatal ;  but  his  was  not  the  casuistry  which  coulcj 
release  his  master  from  the  fetters  with  which  his  unwar- 
confidence  had  bound  him.  It  was  otherwise  with  Wilkii 
Flammock.  He  stared,  he  almost  laughed,  uotwithstandin: 
the  reverence  due  to  the  castellane,  and  his  own  insensibilit 
to  risible  emotions.  "And  is  this  all?"  he  said.  '"I 
your  honor  had  pledged  yourself  to  pay  one  hundred  florin 
to  a  Jew  or  to  a  Lombard,  no  doubt  you  must  have  kept  th 
day,  or  forfeited  your  pledge  ;  but  surely  one  day  is  as  goot 
as  another  to  keep  a  promise  for  fighting,  and  that  day  i 
best  in  which  the  promiser  is  strongest.  But  indeed,  afte 
all,  what  signifies  any  j^romise  over  a  wine  flagon  ?  " 

''It  signifies  as  much  as  a  promise  can  do  that  is  give: 
elsewhere.  The  promiser,"  said  Berenger,  ''  escapes  not  th 
sin  of  a  word-breaker  because  he  hath  been  a  drunken  brao 
gart." 

''  For  the  sin,"  said  Dennis,  ''  sure  1  am,  that  rather  tha 
yon  should  do  such  deed  of  dole,  the  Abbot  of  Glastonbur 
would  absolve  j^ou  for  a  florin." 

"  But  what  shall  wipe  out  the  shame  ?  "  demanded  Bt 
renger.  "  How  shall  I  dare  to  show  myself  again  amon 
press  of  knights,  who  have  broken  my  word  of  battle,  pledge 
for  fear  of  a  Welshman  and  his  naked  savages  ?  Xo,  Denni 
]\Iorolt,  speak  of  it  no  more.  Be  it  for  weal  or  woe,  we  figh 
them  to-day,  and  upon  yonder  fair  field." 

"  It  may  be,"  said  Flammock,  "  that  Gwenwyn  may  hav 
forgotten  the  promise,  and  so  fail  to  appear  to  claim  it  in  th 
appointed  space  ;  for,  as  we  heard,  your  wines  of  Franc 
flooded  his  Welsh  brains  deeply." 

''  He  again  alluded  to  it  on  the  morning  after  it  wa 
made,"  said  the  castellane  ;  "  trust  me,  he  will  not  forge 
what  will  give  him  such  a  chance  of  removing  me  from  li: 
path  forever." 

As  he  spoke,  they  observed  that  large  clouds  of  dust,  whic 
had  been  seen  at  different  points  of  the  landscape,  wer 
drawing  down  towards  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  ov£ 
which  an  ancient  bridge  extended  itself  to  the  appointe 
place  of  combat.  They  were  at  no  loss  to  conjecture  tli 
cause.  It  was  evident  that  Gwenwj-n,  recalling  the  parti( 
who  had  been  engaged  in  partial  devastation,  Avas  bene 
ing  with  his  ^vhole  forces  towards  the  bridge  and  the  plai, 
beyond  it. 

"  Let  us  rush  down  and  secure  the  pass,"  said  Denn: 
Morolt ;  ''we  may  debate  with  them  with  some  equality  t 
the  advantage  of  defending  the  bridge.     Your  word  boun 


f 


THE  BETEOTHEB  21 

rou  to  the  plain  as  to  a  field  of  battle,  but  it  did  not  oblige 

m!?!  pu  to  forego  such  advantages  as  the  passage  of  the  bridge 

,  ',   ivould  aiford.     Our  men,  our  horses,  are  ready  ;  let  our  bow- 

,^11  ftien  secure  the  banks,  and  my  life  on  the  issue." 

■"'        "  When  I  promised  to  meet  him  in  yonder  field,  I  meant," 

eplied  Kaymond  Berenger,  "  to  give  the  Welshman  the  full 

id  vantage  of  equality  of  ground.     I  so  meant  it,  he  so  un- 

lerstood  it  ;  and  what  avails  keeping  my  word  in  the  letter, 

,    II  break  it  in  the  sense  ?     We  move  not  till  the  last  Welsh- 

'  I  nan. has  crossed  the  bridge  ;  and  then " 

'  *   "  And  then,"  said  Dennis,  "  we  move  to  our  death  !     May 

jrod  forgive  our  sins  !     But " 

"  But  what  ?  "  said  Berenger  ;  "  something  sticks  in  thy 
nind  that  should  have  vent." 

My  young  lady,  your  daughter  the  Lady  Eveline " 

, .  I  have  told  her  what  is  to  be.  She  shall  remain  in  the 
"^''[  iastle,  where  I  will  leave  a  few  chosen  veterans,  with  you, 
tennis,  to  command  them.  In  twenty-four  hours  the  siege 
dll  be  relieved,  and  we  have  defended  it  longer  with  a 
lighter  garrison.  Then  to  her  aunt,  the  abbess  of  the  Be- 
ledictine  sisters;  thou,  Dennis,  wilt  see  her  placed  therein 
's'  lonor  and  safety,  and  my  sister  will  care  for  her  future  pro- 


ven braj 


I 


>.  lien 
we  tijl 


/  leave  you  at  this  pinch  !  "  said  Dennis  Morolt,  burst- 

ng  into  tears,     "/shut  myself  up  within  walls  when  my 

I  naster  rides  to  his  last  of  battles  !     /  become  squire  to  a 

J^''  ady,  even  though  it  be  to  the  Lady  Eveline,  when  he  lies 

™  lead  under  his  shield  !     Raymond  Berenger,  is  it  for  this 

hat  I  have  buckled  thy  armor  so  often  ?  " 

The  tears  gushed  from  the  old  warrior's  eyes  as  fast  as 

w'?  rom  those  of  a  girl  who  weeps  for  her  lover  ;  and  Eaymond, 

'  'i''^''^''  aking  him  kindly  by  the  hand,  said,  in  a  soothing  tone, 

'Do  not  think,  my  good  old  servant,  that,  were  honor  to 

™  le  won,  I  would  drive  thee  from  my  side.     But  this  is  a 

■  "^^  did  and  an  inconsiderate  deed,  to  which  my  fate  or  my  folly 

r;ver,C'«  las  bound  me.     I  die  to  save  my  name  from  dishonor  ;  but, 

appoiBtj  Ija^g  j  J  jnust  leave  on  my  memory  the  charge  of  impru- 

ence." 

.       "  Let  me  share  your  imprudence,  my  dearest  master,"  said 

M:  W  tennis  Morolt,  earnestly  :  "  the  poor  esquire  has  no  busi- 

■  liiep  less  to  be  thought  wiser  than  his  master.     In  many  a  battle 

ny  valor  derived  some  little  fame  from  partaking  in  the  deeds 

lid  Ds"  '^hich  won  your  renown  ;  deny  me  not  the  right  to  share 

KiniJitJ  1  that  blame  which  your  temerity  may  incur — let  them  not 

ordta  ^y  that,  so  rash  was  his  action,  even  his  old  esquire  was  not 


22  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

permitted  to  partake  in  it !  I  am  part  of  yonrself  :  it  ]i 
murder  to  every  man  whom  you  take  with  you,  if  you  lea^ 
me  behind." 

''Dennis,"  said  Berenger,  ''you  make  me  feel  yet  moi 
bitterly  the  folly  I  have  yielded  to.  I  would  grant  you  th 
boon  you  ask,  sad  as  it  is,  but  my  daughter " 

"  Sir  knight,"  said  the  Fleming,  who  had  listened  to  th 
dialogue  with  somewhat  less  than  his  usual  apathy,  "  it 
not  my  purpose  this  day  to  leave  this  castle ;  now,  if  yo 
could  trust  my  troth  to  do  what  a  plain  man  may  for  tl 
protection  of  my  Lady  Eveline " 

"How,  sirrah  !"  said  Raymond  ;  "you  do  not  propose  i 
leave  the  castle  ?  "Who  gives  you  right  to  propose  or  di, 
pose  in  the  case,  until  my  pleasure  is  known  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  to  have  words  with  you,  sir  castellane. 
said  the  imperturbable  Fleming  ;  "  but  I  hold  here,  in  th 
township,  certain  mills,  tenements,  cloth-yards,  and  so  fort 
for  which  I  am  to  jjay  man-service  in  defending  this  Cast 
of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  and  in  this  I  am  ready.  But  if  yc 
call  on  me  to  march  from  hence,  leaving  the  same  cast 
defenseless,  and  to  offer  up  my  life  in  a  battle  which  yr 
acknowledge  to  be  desperate,  I  must  needs  say  my  tenu 
binds  me  not  to  obey  thee." 

"Base  mechanic!"  said  Morolt,  laying  his  hand  on  h 
dagger  and  menacing  the  Fleming. 

But  Raymond  Berenger  interfered  with  voice  and  han 
"  Harm  him  not.  Morolt,  and  blame  him  not.  He  hatli 
sense  of  duty,  thougli  not  after  our  manner  ;  and  he  and  1: 
knaves  will  fight  best  behind  stone  walls.  They  are  taug 
also,  these  Flemings,  by  the  practise  of  their  own  countr 
the  attack  and  defense  of  walled  cities  and  fortresses,  ai 
are  especially  skilful  in  working  of  mangonels  and  milita 
engines.  There  are  several  of  his  countrymen  in  the  castl 
besides  his  own  followers.  These  I  propose  to  leave  behinc 
and  I  think  they  will  obey  him  more  readily  than  any  b . 
myself — how  think'st  thou  ?  Thou  wouldst  not,  I  kno- 
from  a  misconstrued  point  of  honor,  or  a  blind  love  to  m 
leave  this  important  place,  and  the  safety  of  Eveline,  . 
doubtful  hands  ?  " 

"Wilkin  Flammock  is  but  a  Flemish  clown,  noble  sii' 
answered  Dennis,  as  much  overjoyed  as  if  he  had  obtain 
some  important  advantage  ;  "but  I  must  needs  sa/  he  is  ; 
stout  and  true  as  any  whom  you  might  trust ;  and,  besid? 
his  own  shrewdness  will  teach  him  there  is  more  to  be  gain ; 
by  defending  such  a  castle  as  this  than  by  yielding  it  i 


THE  BETROTHED  23 

«li:it!  strangers,  who  may  not  be  likely  to  keep  the  terms  of  sur- 
yoalei  render,  however  fairly  they  may  offer  tliem." 

It  is  fixed  then,"   said    Eaymond    Berenger.     "Then, 
yet  iii|Pennis,  thou  shalt  go  with  me,  and   he  shall   remain  be- 
ind.     Wilkin  Flammock,"  he  said,  addressing  the  Fleming 
Idlemnly,  "  I  speak  not  to  thee  the  language  of  chivalry,  of 
hich  thou  knovvest  nothing ;  but,  as  thou  art  an  honest 
an  and  a  true  Christian,  I  conjure  thee  to  stand  to  the  de- 
fense of  this  castle.     Let  no  promise  of   the  enemy  draw 
hee  to  any  base  composition,  no  threat  to  any  surrender, 
lief  must  speedily  arrive  ;  if  you  fulfil  your  trust  to  me 
,d  to  my  daughter,  Hugo  de  Lacy  will  reward  you  richly  ; 
f  you  fail,  he  will  punish  you  severely." 

Sir  knight,"  said  Flammock,  "  I  am  pleased  you  have 

elWbut  your  trust  so  far  in  a  plain  handicraftsman.     For  the 

:'.iiitlikelsh,  I  am   come   from   a  land  for  which  wo  were  com- 

'  '•  Selled — yearly  compelled — to  struggle  with    the   sea  ;    and 

liey  who  can  deal  with  the  waves  in  a  tempest  need  not  fear 

m  undisciplined  people  in  their  fury.     Your  daughter  shall 

)e  as  dear  to  me  as  mine  own :  and  in  that  faith  you  may 

)rick  forth — if,  indeed,  you  will  not  still,  like  a  wiser  man, 

hut  gate,  down   portcullis,  up   drawbridge,  and  let  your 

irchers  and  my  cross-bows  man  the  wall,  and  tell  the  knaves 

'ou  are  not  the  fool  that  they  take  you  for." 

"  Good  fellow,  that  must  not  be,"  said  the  knight.     "  I 

lear  my  daughter's  voice,"  he  added,  hastily  ;  "  I  would  not 

Lgain  meet  her,  again  to  part  from  her.    To  Heaven's  keeping 

;  commit  thee,  honest  Fleming.   Follow  me,  Dennis  Morolt." 

The  old  castellane  descended   the   stair  of  the  southern 

ower  hastily,  just  as  his  daughter  Eveline  ascended  that  of 

he  eastern  turret  to  throw  herself  at  his  feet  once  more. 

ihe  was  followed  by  the  Father  Aldrovand,  chaplain  of  her 

ather  ;  by  an  old  and  almost  invalid  huntsman,  whose  more 

ictive  services  in  the  field  and  the  chase  had  been  for  some 

ime  chiefly  limited  to  the  superintendence  of  the  knight's 

,  I  taoiKennels,    and   the   charge   especially  of   his  more   favorite 

!,fp(ogiounds  ;  and  by  Rose  Flammock,  the  daughter  of  Wilkin, 

rj^linejii  blue-eyed  Flemish   maiden,  round,  plump,  and  shy  as  a 

)artridge,  who  had  been  for  some  time  permitted  to  keep 

.  '-],!<j  Jompany  with  the  high-born  Norman  damsel,  in  a  doubtful 

itation,  betwixt   that   of   an   humble   friend   and  superior 

;  lomestic. 

Eveline  rushed  upon  the  battlements,  her  hair  dishevelled 
md  her  eyes  drowned  in  tears,  and  eagerly  demanded  of  the 
^'leming  where  her  father  was. 


24  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

Flammock  made  a  clumsy  reverence,  and  attempted  somi 
answer  ;  but  his  voice  seemed  to  fail  him.  He  turned  hi 
back  upon  Eveline  without  ceremony,  and,  totally  disregard 
ing  the  anxious  inquiries  of  the  huntsman  and  the  chaplain 
he  said  hastily  to  his  daughter,  in  his  own  language,  "  Ma( 
work  ! — mad  work  !  look  to  the  poor  maiden,  Roschen.  Be: 
alter  Herr  ist  verriickt." 

Without  further  speech,  he  descended  the  stairs,  an( 
never  paused  till  he  reached  the  buttery.  Here  he  call© 
like  a  lion  for  the  controller  of  these  regions,  by  the  variou 
names  of  kam merer,  keller-master,  and  so  forth,  to  whicl 
the  old  Reinold,  an  ancient  Norman  esquire,  answered  no 
until  tlie  Netherlander  fortunately  recollected  his  Angle 
Norman  title  of  butler.  This,  his  regular  name  of  office 
was  the  key  to  the  buttery-hatch,  and  the  old  man  instantl 
appeared,  \,  ith  his  gray  cassock  and  high  rolled  liose, 
ponderous  bunch  of  keys  suspended  by  a  silver  chain  to  hi 
broad  leatliern  girdle,  which,  in  consideration  of  the  emei 
gency  of  the  time,  he  had  thought  it  right  to  balance  on  th 
left  side  with  a  huge  falchion,  which  seemed  much  toi 
weighty  for  his  old  arm  to  wield. 

"  What  is  your  will,^'  he  said,  "  Master  Flammock  ?  c 
what  are  your  commands,  since  it  is  my  lord's  jjleasure  ths 
they  shall  be  laws  to  me  for  a  time  ?  " 

"  Only  a  cup  of  wine,  good  Meister  Keller-master — butlei 
I  mean.'* 

"  I  am  glad  you  remember  the  name  of  mine  office. 
Reinold,  with  some  of  the   petty  resentment  of  a  spoile 
domestic,  who  thinks  that  a  stranger  has  been  irregular] 
put  in  command  over  him. 

'*  A  flagon  of  Rhenish,    if  you   love  me,"  answered  tMln'o 
Fleming  ;  "  for  my  heart  is  low  and  poor  within  me,  and 
must  needs  drink  of  the  best." 

"  x\nd  drink  you  shall,"  said  Reinold,  ''if  drink  will  giT 
you  the  courage  which  perhaps  you  may  want."  He  d 
scended  to  the  secret  crypts  of  which  he  was  the  guardiai 
and  returned  with  a  silver  flagon  which  might  contain  aboi 
a  quart.  "  Here  is  such  wine,"  said  Reinold,  "  as  thou  ha 
seldom  tasted,"  and  was  about  to  pour  it  out  into  a  cup. 

"Nay,  the  flagon — the  flagon,  friend  Reinold:  I  love 
deep  and  solemn  draught  when  the  business  is  weighty 
said  Wilkin.  He  seized  on  the  flagon  accordingly,  ai 
drinking  a  preparatory  mouthful,  paused  as  if  to  estima 
the  strength  and  flavor  of  the  generous  liquor.  Apparent] 
he  was  pleased  with  both,  for  he  nodded  in  approbatioa 


en,  I 


THE  BETROTHED  2& 

'""ithe  butler  ;  and,  raising  the  flagon  to  his  mouth  onct.  more, 
he  slowly  and  gradually  brought  the  bottom  of  the  vessel 
parallel  with  the  roof  of  the  apartment,  without  sufl'ering 
iiapia||one  drop  of  the  contents  to  escape  him. 

That  hath  savor,  Herr  Keller-master,"  said  he,  while  he 
recovering  his  breath  by  intervals,  after  so  lor.g  a  sus- 
pense of  respiration  ;  '•■  but,  may  Heaven  forgivj  you  for 
Ms,  aiilthinking  it  the  best  I  have  ever  tasted  !     You  little  know 
he  call  ithe  cellars  of  Ghent  and  of  Ypres." 

Mario  I     "And  I   care  not  for  them,"  said   Reinold  :  "those  of 
nil  Igentle  Norman  blood  hold  the  wines  of  Gascony  and  France, 
ereili  Igenerous,  light,  and  cordial,  worth  all  the  acid  potations  of 
Angi  the  Rhine  and  the  Neckar." 

"  All  is  matter  of  taste,"  said  the  Fleming  ;  "  but,  harkye 
is  there  much  of  this  wine  in  the  cellar  ?" 
nose,       '•'  Methought  but  now  it  pleased  not  your  dainty  palate  ?  " 
amtol  said  Reinold. 

lieeniM     "Nay — nay,  my  friend,"   said  Wilkin,    "I  said    it  had 
oni  savor.     I  may  have  drunk  better  ;  but  this  is  right  good, 
Mcht  where  better  may  not  be  had.     Again,  how  much  of  it  hast 
thou  ?  " 

The  whole  butt,  man,"  answered  the  butler  ;  "  I  have 
OT  tlfbroached  a  fresh  piece  for  you," 

'  Good,"  replied  Flammock  ;  "  get  the  quart-pot  of 
i-WfChristian  measure  ;  heave  the  cask  up  into  this  same  buttery, 
and  let  each  soldier  of  this  castle  be  served  with  such  a  cup 
to/'sljas  I  have  here  swallowed.  I  feel  it  hath  done  me  much 
aspo  good  :  my  iieart  was  sinking  when  I  saw  the  black  smoke 
irepili  arising  from  mine  own  fulling  mills  yonder.  Let  each  man, 
1  say,  have  a  full  quart-pot  :  men  defend  not  castles  on  thin 
liquors." 

"  I  must  do  as  you  will,  good  AVilkin  Flammock,"  said 
the  butler  ;  "  but  1  pray  remember  all  men  are  not  alike, 
^illJ'That  which  will  but  warm  your  Flemish  hearts  will  put 
"  I  iwildfire  into  Norman  brains  ;  and  what  may  only  encourage 
your  countrymen  to  man  the  walls  will  make  ours  fly  over 


nod 


[^ijalu  |the  battlements," 

tlionlii  I     "  Well,  you  know  the  conditions  of  your  own  countrymen 

jfQp,    best  :  serve  out  to  them  what  wines  and  measure  you  list — 

'.  jiofl  ionly  let  each  Fleming  have  a  solemn  quart  of  Rhenish,     But 

jpiglitj  iwhat  will  you  do  for  the  English  churls,  of  whom  there  are 

;  jy^l  |a  right  many  left  with  us  ?" 

^'^,jlji]l  j     The  old  butler  paused  and  rubbed  his  brow.     '''  There  will 

[md  ^®  ^  strange  waste  of  liquor,"  he  said  ;  "and  yet  I  may  not 

oUtiol   ^^'^3^  ^^^^^  ^^®  emergency  may  defend  the  expenditure.     But 


26  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

for  the  English,  they  are,  as  you  wot,  a  mixed  breed,  having 
much  of  your  German  sullenness,  together  with  a  plentiful 
touch  of  the  hot  blood  of  yonder  Welsh  furies.  Light  wines 
stir  them  not  ;  strong,  heavy  draughts  would  madden  them. 
What  think  you  of  ale — an  invigorating,  strengthening  liquor, 
that  warms  the  heart  without  inflaming  the  brain  ?" 

''Ale!"  said  the  Fleming.  "Hum  —  ha  —  is  your  ale 
mighty,  sir  butler  ? — is  it  double  ale  V 

"  Do  you  doubt  my  skill  ?"  said  the  butler.  "  March  and 
October  liave  witnessed  me  ever  as  they  came  around,  for 
thirty  years,  deal  with  the  best  barley  in  Shropshire.  You 
shall  judge." 

He  filled,  from  a  large  hogshead  in  the  corner  of  the 
buttery,  the  flagon  which  the  Fleming  had  just  emptied, 
and  which  was  no  sooner  replenished  than  Wilkiu  agaiu 
drained  it  to  the  bottom. 

"  Good  ware,"  he  said,  "  Master  Butler — strong,  stinging 
ware.     The  English  churls  will  fight  like  devils  upon  it ; 
let  them  be  furnished  with  mighty  ale  along  with  their  heel  | 
and  brown  bread.     And  now,  having  given  you  your  charge,  j 
Master  Reinold,  it  is  time  I  should  look  after  mine  own."       j 

Wilkin  Flammock  left  the  buttery,  and  with  a  mien  anci  I 
judgment  alike  undisturbed  by  the  deep  potations  in  whicli  j 
he    had    so    recently    indulged,    undisturbed   also   by   the  | 
various  rumors  concerning  what  was  passing  without  doors.   : 
he   made   the  round   of  the  castle  and  its  outworks,  mus- 
tered the  little  garrison,  and  assigned  to  each  their  posts 
reserving  to  his  own  countrymen  the  management  of  tli( 
arblasts,  or  cross-bows,  and  of  the  military  engines  whicl 
were  contrived  by  the  proud  Normans,  and  were  incompre 
hensible  to  the  ignorant  English,   or,   more  properly,   thi 
Anglo-Saxons,   of   the  period,  but  which  his  more  adroi 
countrymen  managed  with  great  address.      The  jealousiei 
(entertained  by  both  the  Normans  and  English,  at  being  placec 
under   the   temporary   command    of  a  Fleming,    gradualb 
yielded  to  the  military  and  mechanical  skill  which  he  dis 
played,    as   well   as   to   a  sense   of  the  emergency,  whiclr 
became  greater  with  every  moment. 


lit 
III 


I 


'Btliei 
?li(|iioi 


irchi 
e,  \ 


pOQIt 


by  I' 

it  Im 


«ly,t 
re 


CHAPTER  IV 

Beside  yon  brigg  out  ower  yon  burn, 
Where  tlie  water  bickereth  bright  and  sheen, 

Shall  many  a  falling  courser  spurn, 
And  knights  shall  die  in  battle  keen. 

Prophecy  of  Jliomas  the  Rhymer. 


ff,'  Phe  daughter  of  Raymond  Berenger,  with  the  attendants 
imptie  fhom  we  have  mentioned,  continued  to  remain  upon  the 
1  >g8  )attlements  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  in  spite  of  the  ex- 
lortations  of  the  priest  that  she  would  rather  await  the 
sue  of  this  terrible  interval  in  the  chapel,  and  amid 
he  rights  of  religion.  He  perceived,  at  length,  that  she 
lieirbei  vas  incapable,  from  grief  and  fear,  of  attending  to  or 
cliargi  inderstanding  his  advice  ;  and,  sitting  down  beside  her, 
vhile  the  huntsman  and  Rose  Flammock  stood  by,  en- 
lienai  leavored  to  suggest  such  comfort  as  perhaps  he  scarcely 
nwhiHelt  himself. 

*'  This  is  but  a  sally  of  your  noble  father's,"  he  said  ; 
'and  though  it  may  seem  it  is  made  on  great  hazard,  yet  who 
ver  questioned  Sir  Raymond  Berenger's  policy  of  wars  ? 
lir  post  le  is  close  and  secret  in  his  purposes.  I  guess  right  well 
it  oft  le  had  not  marched  out  as  he  proposes,  unless  he  knew 
fs  wMi  hat  the  noble  Earl  of  Arundel  or  the  mighty  Constable  of 
iieompif Chester  were  close  at  hand." 

Think  you  this  assuredly,  good  father  ?  Go,  Raoul — 
p,  my  dearest  Rose — look  to  the  East — see  if  you  cannot 
escry  banners  or  clouds  of  dust.  Listen — listen — hear  you 
■lo  trumpets  from  that  quarter  ?" 
rra'tei  '  *'Alas  !  my  lady,"  said  Raoul,  "  the  thunder  of  heaven 
!i  he  di 'ou Id  scarce  be  heard  amid  the  howling  of  yonder  Welsh 
jj  flii(  volves."  Eveline  turned  as  he  spoke,  and,  looking  towards 
•he  bridge,  she  beheld  an  appalling  spectacle. 

The  river,  whose  stream  washes  on  three  sides  the  base  of 
•he  proud  eminence  on  which  the  castle  is  situated,  curves 
iway  from  the  fortress  and  its  corresponding  village  on  the 
vest,  and  the  hill  sinks  downward  to  an  extensive  plain,  so 
ixtremely  level  as  to  indicate  its  alluvial  origin.  Lower 
lown,  at  the  extremity  of  this  plain,  where  the  banks  again 
27 


adn 
loss 


28  WAVFRLEY  NOVELS 

close  on  the  river,  were  situated  the  maniifacturini 
houses  of  the  stout  Flemings,  which  were  now  burning  i] 
a  bright  flame.  The  bridge,  a  high,  narrow  combination  o 
arches  of  unequal  size,  was  about  half  a  mile  distant  fron 
the  castle,  in  the  very  center  of  the  plain.  The  river  itsel 
ran  in  a  deep  rocky  channel,  was  often  unfordable,  and  a 
all  times  difficult  of  passage,  giving  considerable  advantag 
to  the  defenders  of  the  castle,  who  had  spent  on  othe 
occasions  many  a  dear  drop  of  blood  to  defend  the  f 
which  Raymond  Berenger's  fantastic  scrujDles  now  inducei 
him  to  abandon.  The  Welshman,  seizing  the  opportunit 
with  the  avidity  with  which  men  grasp  an  unexpectei 
benefit,  were  fast  crowding  over  the  high  and  steep  arches 
while  new  bands,  collecting  from  different  points  upon  th 
farther  bank,  increased  the  continued  stream  of  warriors 
who,  passing  leisurely  and  uninterrupted,  formed  thei 
line  of  battle  on  the  plain  opposite  to  the  castle. 

At  first  father  Aldrovand  viewed  their  motions  withou 
anxiety,  nay,  with  the  scornful  smile  of  one  who  observes  a; 
enemy  in  the  act  of  falling  into  the  snare  spread  for  them  b 
superior  skill.  Raymond  Berenger,  with  his  little  body  c 
infantry  and  cavalry,  were  drawn  up  on  the  easy  hill  whic' 
is  betwixt  the  castle  and  the  plain,  ascending  from  th 
former  towards  the  fortress  ;  and  it  seemed  clear  to  th 
Dominican,  who  had  not  entirely  forgotten  in  the  cloiste 
his  ancient  military  experience,  that  it  was  the  knight 
purpose  to  attack  the  disordered  enemy  when  a  certain  nun 
ber  had  crossed  the  river,  and  the  others  were  partly  on  th 
farther  side  and  partly  engaged  in  the  slow  and  periloi 
maneuver  of  effecting  tlieir  passage.  But  when  large  bodi( 
of  the  white-mantled  Welshmen  were  permitted  witliov 
interruption  to  take  such  order  on  the  plain  as  their  habii 
of  fighting  recommended,  the  monk's  countenance,  thoug 
he  still  endeavored  to  speak  encouragement  to  the  terrific 
Eveline,  assumed  a  different  and  an  anxious  expression  ;  an 
his  acquired  habits  of  resignation  contended  strenuous! 
with  his  ancient  military  ardor.  "  Be  patient,"  he  said,  "  m 
daughter,  and  be  of  good  comfort ;  thine  eyes  shall  behol 
the  dismay  of  yonder  barbarous  enemy.  Let  but  a  minui 
elapse,  and  thou  shalt  see  them  scattered  like  dust.  S 
George  !  they  will  surely  cry  thy  name  now,  or  never  ! " 

The  monk's  beads  passed  meanwhile  rapidly  throug 
his  hands,  but  many  an  expression  of  military  imp: 
tience  mingled  itself  with  his  orisons.  He  could  n< 
conceive  the  cause  why  each  successive  throng  of  moui 


THE  BETROTHED  20 

taitieers,  led  under  their  different  banners,  and  headed  by 
their  respective  chieftains,  was  permitted,  without  interrup- 
tion, to  pass  the  difficult  defile,  and  extend  themselves  in 
battle  array  on  the  near  side  of  the  bridge,  while  the  Eng- 
lish, or  rather  Anglo-Norman,  cavalry  remained  stationary, 
without  so  much  as  laying  their  lances  in  rest.  There  re- 
mained, he  thought,  but  one  hope — one  only  rational 
explanation  of  this  unaccountable  inactivity — this  voluntary 
surrender  of  every  advantage  of  ground,  when  that  of  num- 
bers was  so  tremendously  on  the  side  of  the  enemy.  Father 
Aldrovand  concluded  that  the  succors  of  the  Constable  of 
Chester  and  other  Lord  Marchers  must  be  in  the  immediate 
vicinity,  and  that  the  Welsh  were  only  permitted  to  pass  the 
river  without  opposition,  that  their  retreat  might  be  the 
more  effectually  cut  off,  and  their  defeat,  with  a  deep  river 
in  their  rear,  rendered  the  more  signally  calamitous.  But 
even  while  he  clung  to  this  hope,  the  monk's  heart  sunk 
within  him,  as,  looking  in  every  direction  from  which  the 
expected  succors  might  arrive,  he  could  neither  see  nor  hear 
the  slightest  token  which  announced  their  approach.  In  a 
frame  of  mind  approaching  more  nearly  to  despair  than  to 
hope,  the  old  man  continued  alternately  to  tell  his  beads,  to 
gaze  anxiously  around,  and  to  address  some  words  of  con- 
solation in  broken  phrases  to  the  young  lady,  until  the  gen- 
eral shout  of  the  Welsh,  ringing  from  the  bank  of  the  river 
to  the  battlements  of  the  castle,  warned  him,  in  a  note  of 
exultation,  that  the  very  last  of  the  British  had  defiled 
through  the  pass,  and  that  their  whole  formidable  array 
stood  prompt  for  action  upon  the  hither  side  of  the  river. 

This  thrilling  and  astounding  clamor,  to  which  each 
Welshman  lent  his  voice  with  all  the  energy  of  defiance, 
thirst  of  battle,  and  hope  of  conquest,  was  at  last  answered 
by  the  blast  of  the  Norman  trumpets — the  first  sign  of 
activity  which  had  been  exhibited  on  the  part  of  Raymond 
Berenger.  But  cheerily  as  they  rung,  the  trumpets,  in 
comparison  of  the  shout  which  they  answered,  sounded  like 
the  silver  whistle  of  the  stout  boatswain  amid  the  howling 
of  the  tempest. 

At  the  same  moment  when  the  trumpets  were  blown, 
Berenger  gave  signal  to  the  archers  to  discharge  their 
arrows,  and  the  men-at-arms  to  advance  under  a  hailstorm 
of  shafts.  Javelins  and  stones,  shot,  darted  and  slung  by  the 
Welsh  against  their  steel-clad  assaihints. 

The  veterans  of  Raymond,  on  the  other  hand,  stimulated 
by  many  victorious  recollections,  confident  in  the  talents  of 


30  WA VEELET  NOVELS 

their  accomplished  leader,  and  undismayed  even  hy  the  des- 
peration of  their  circumstances,  charged  the  mass  of  the 
Welshmen  with  their  usual  determined  valor.  It  was  a 
gallant  sight  to  see  this  little  body  of  cavalry  advance  to  the 
onset,  their  plumes  floating  above  their  helmets,  their  lances 
in  rest,  and  projecting  six  feet  in  length  before  the  breasts 
of  their  coursers  ;  their  shields  hanging  from  their  necks, 
that  their  left  hands  might  have  freedom  to  guide  their 
horses  ;  and  the  whole  body  rushing  on  with  an  equal  front, 
and  a  momentum  of  speed  which  increased  with  every 
second.  Such  an  onset  might  have  startled  naked  men  (for 
such  were  the  Welsh,  in  respect  of  the  mail-sheathed  Nor- 
mans), but  it  brought  no  terrors  to  the  ancient  British,  who 
had  long  made  it  their  boast  that  they  exposed  their  bare 
bosoms  and  white  tunics  to  the  lances  and  swords  of  the 
men-at-arms  with  as  much  confidence  as  if  they  had  been 
born  invulnerable.  It  Avas  not  indeed  in  their  power  to 
withstand  the  weight  of  the  first  shock,  which,  breaking 
their  ranks,  densely  as  they  were  arranged,  carried  the 
barbed  horses  into  the  very  center  of  their  host,  and  well- 
nigh  up  to  the  fatal  standard  to  which  Eaymond  Berenger, 
bound  by  his  fatal  vow,  had  that  day  conceded  so  much 
vantage-ground.  But  they  yielded  like  the  billows,  which 
give  way,  indeed,  to  the  gallant  ship,  but  only  to  assail  her 
sides,  and  to  unite  in  her  wake.  With  wild  and  horrible 
clamors,  they  closed  their  tumultuous  ranks  around  Beren- 
ger and  his  devoted  followers,  and  a  deadly  scene  of  strife 
ensued. 

The  best  warriors  of  Wales  had  on  this  occasion  joined 
the  standard  of  Gwenwyn  ;  the  arrows  of  the  men  of  Gwent- 
laud,  whose  skill  in  archery  almost  equaled  that  of  the 
Normans  themselves,  rattled  on  the  helmets  of  the  men-at- 
arms  ;  and  the  spears  of  the  people  of  Deheubarth,  renowned 
for  the  sharpness  and  temper  of  their  steel  heads,  were 
employed  against  the  cuirasses,  not  without  fatal  effect,  not- 
withstanding the  protection  which  these  afforded  to  the 
rider. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  archery  belonging  to  Eaymond's 
little  band — stout  yeomen  who,  for  the  most  part,  held  pos- 
sessions by  militar}^  tenure — exhausted  their  quivers  on  the 
broad  mark  afforded  them  by  the  Welsh  army.  It  is  prob- 
able that  every  shaft  carried  a  Welshman's  life  on  its  point ; 
yet,  to  have  afforded  important  relief  to  the  cavalry,  now 
closely  and  inextricably  engaged,  the  slaughter  ought  to 
have  been  twenty-fold  at  least.    Meantime,  the  Welsh,  galled 


THE  BETROTHED  « 

by  this  incessant  discharge,  answered  it  by  volleys  from 
their  own  archers,  whose  numbers  made  some  amends  for 
their  inferiority,  and  who  were  supported  by  numerous 
bodies  of  darters  and  slingers.  So  that  the  Norman  arch- 
ers, who  had  more  than  once  attempted  to  descend  from 
their  position  to  operate  a  diversion  in  favor  of  Raymond 
and  his  devoted  band,  were  now  so  closely  engaged  in  front 
as  obliged  them  to  abandon  all  thoughts  of  such  a  move- 
ment. 

Meanwhile,  that  chivalrous  leader,  who  from  the  first  had 
hoped  for  no  more  than  an  honorable  death,  labored  with 
all  his  power  to  render  his  fate  signal  by  involving  in  it  that 
of  the  Welsh  prince,  the  author  of  the  war.  He  cautiously 
avoided  the  expenditure  of  his  strength  by  hewing  among 
the  British  ;  but,  with  the  shock  of  his  managed  horse, 
repelled  the  numbers  who  pressed  on  him,  and  leaving  the 
plebeians  to  the  swords  of  his  companions,  shouted  his  war- 
cry,  and  made  his  way  towards  the  fatal  standard  of  Gwen- 
wyn,  beside  which,  discharging  at  once  the  duties  of  a  skil- 
ful leader  and  a  brave  soldier,  the  Prince  had  stationed 
himself.  Raymond's  experience  of  the  Welsh  disposition, 
subject  equally  to  the  highest  flood  and  most  sudden  ebb  of 
passion,  gave  him  some  hope  that  a  successful  attack  upon 
this  point,  followed  by  the  death  or  capture  of  the  Prince 
and  the  downfall  of  his  standard,  might  even  yet  strike  suph 
a  panic  as  should  change  the  fortunes  of  the  day,  otherwise 
so  nearly  desperate.  The  veteran,  therefore,  animated  his 
comrades  to  the  charge  by  voice  and  example  ;  and,  in  spite 
of  all  opposition,  forced  his  way  gradually  onward.  But 
Gwenwyn  in  person,  surrounded  by  his  best  and  noblest 
champions,  offered  a  defense  as  obstinate  as  the  assault  was 
intrepid.  In  vain  they  were  borne  to  the  earth  by  the 
barbed  horses,  or  hewed  down  by  the  invulnerable  riders. 
Wounded  and  overthrown,  the  Britons  continued  their 
resistance,  clung  round  the  legs  of  the  Norman  steeds  a,nd 
cumbered  their  advance  ;  while  their  brethren,  thrusting 
with  pikes,  proved  every  Joint  and  crevice  of  the  plate  and 
mail,  or,  grappling  with  the  men-at-arms,  strove  to  pull 
them  from  their  horses  by  main  force,  or  beat  them  down 
with  their  bills  and  Welsh  hooks.  And  woe  betide  those 
who  were  by  these  various  means  dismounted,  for  the  long 
sharp  knives  worn  by  the  Welsh  soon  pierced  them  with  a 
hundred  wounds,  and  were  then  only  merciful  when  the  first 
infliction  was  deadly. 

The  combat  was  at  this  point,  and  had  raged  for  more 


32  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

than  half  an  hour,  when  Berenger,  having  forced  his  horse 
within  two  spears'  length  of  the  British  standard,  he  and 
Gwenwyn  were  so  near  to  each  other  as  to  exchange  tokens 
of  mutual  defiance. 

"  Turn  thee.  Wolf  of  Wales/'  said  Berenger,  ''and  abide, 
if  thou  darest,  one  blow  of  a  good  knight's  sword  !  Eay- 
mond  Berenger  spits  at  thee  and  thy  banner." 

"  False  Norman  churl  !  "  said  Gwenwyn,  swinging  around 
his  head  a  mace  of  prodigious  weight,  and  already  clotted 
with  blood,  ''thy  iron  head-piece  shall  ill  protect  thy  lying 
tongue,  with  which  I  will    his  day  feed  the  ravens  ! " 

Raymond  made  no  farther  answer,  but  pushed  his  horse 
towards  the  Prince,  who  advanced  to  meet  him  with  equal 
readiness.  But  ere  they  came  within  reach  of  each  other's 
weapons,  a  Welsh  champion,  devoted  like  the  Romans  who 
opposed  the  elephants  of  Pyrrhus,  finding  that  the  armor 
of  Raymond's  horse  resisted  the  repeated  thrusts  of  his  spear, 
threw  himself  under  the  animal,  and  stabbed  him  in  the 
belly  with  his  long  knife.  The  noble  horse  reared  and  fell, 
crushing  with  his  weight  the  Briton  who  had  wounded  him  ; 
the  helmet  of  the  rider  burst  its  clasps  in  the  fall,  and  rolled 
away  from  his  head,  giving  to  view  his  noble  features  and  gray 
hairs.  He  made  more  than  one  effort  to  extricate  himself 
from  the  fallen  horse,  but,  ere  he  could  succeed,  received 
his  death's-wound  from  the  hand  of  Gwenwyn,  who  hesitated 
not  to  strike  him  down  with  his  mace  while  in  the  act  of 
attemptiug  to  rise. 

During  the  whole  of  this  bloody  day,  Dennis  Morolt's  horse 
had  kept  pace  for  pace,  and  his  arm  blow  for  blow,  with  his 
master's.  It  seemed  as  if  two  different  bodies  had  been  mov- 
ing under  one  act  of  volition.  He  husbanded  his  strength 
or  put  it  forth  exactly  as  he  observed  his  knight  did,  and  was 
close  by  his  side  when  he  made  the  last  deadly  effort.  Ai 
that  fatal  moment  when  Raymond  Berenger  rushed  on  the 
chief,  tlie  brave  squire  forced  his  way  up  to  the  standard, 
and,  grasping  it  firmly,  struggled  for  possession  of  it  with  a 
gigantic  Briton,  to  whose  care  it  had  been  confided,  and  who 
now  exerted  his  utmost  strength  to  defend  it.  But,  even 
while  engaged  in  this  mortal  struggle,  the  eye  of  Morolt 
scarcely  left  his  master  ;  and  when  he  saw  him  fall,  his  own 
force  seemed  by  sympathy  to  abandon  him,  and  the  British 
champion  had  no  longer  any  trouble  in  laying  him  prostrate 
among  the  slain. 

The  victory  of  the  British  was  now  complete.  Upon  the 
fall  of  their  leader,  the  followers  of  Raymond  Berenger  would 


THE  BETROTHED  33 

willingly  have  fled  or  surrendered.  But  the  first  was  impos- 
sible^ so  closely  had  they  been  enveloped  ;  and  in  the  cruel 
wars  maintained  by  the  Welsh  upon  their  frontiers  quarter 
to  the  vanquished  was  out  of  question.  A  few  of  the  men- 
at-arms  were  lucky  enough  to  disentangle  themselves  from 
the  tumult,  and,  not  even  attempting  to  enter  the  castle, 
fled  in  various  directions,  to  carry  their  own  fears  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  marches,  by  announcing  the  loss 
of  the  battle,  and  the  fate  of  the  far-renowned  Eaymond 
Berenger. 

The  archers  of  the  fallen  leader,  as  they  had  never  been 
so  deeply  involved  in  the  combat,  Avhich  had  been  chiefly 
maintained  by  the  cavalry,  became  now,  in  their  turn,  the 
sole  object  of  the  enemy's  attack.  But  when  they  saw  the 
multitude  come  roaring  towards  them  like  a  sea  with  all  its 
waves,  they  abandoned  the  bank  which  they  had  hitherto 
bravely  defended,  and  began  a  regular  retreat  to  the  castle 
in  the  best  order  which  they  could,  as  the  only  remaining 
means  of  securing  their  lives.  A  few  of  their  light-footed 
enemies  attempted  to  intercept  them,  during  the  execution 
of  this  prudent  maneuver,  by  outstripping  them  in  their 
march,  and  throwing  themselves  into  the  hollow  way  which 
led  to  the  castle,  to  oppose  their  retreat.  But  the  coolness 
of  the  English  archers,  accustomed  to  extremities  of  every 
kind,  supported  them  on  the  present  occasion.  While  a 
part  of  them,  armed  with  glaives  and  bills,  dislodged  the 
Welsh  from  the  hollow  way,  the  others,  facing  in  the  op- 
posite direction,  and  parted"^  into  divisions,  which  alternately 
halted  and  retreated,  maintained  such  a  countenance  as  to 
check  pursuit,  and  exchange  a  severe  discharge  of  missiles 
with  the  Welsh,  by  which  both  parties  were  considerable 
sufferers. 

At  length,  having  left  more  than  two-thirds  of  their  brave 
companions  behind,  the  yeomanry  attained  the  point  which, 
being  commanded  by  arrows  and  engines  from  the  battle- 
ments, might  be  considered  as  that  of  comparative  safety. 
A  volley  of  large  stones  and  square-headed  bolts  of  great 
size  and  thickness  effectually  stopped  the  farther  progress  of 
the  pursuit,  and  those  wno  had  led  it  drew  back  their  desul- 
tory forces  to  the  plain,  where,  with  shouts  of  jubilee  and 
exultation,  their  countrymen  were  emploved  in  securing 
the  plunder  of  the  field  ;  while  some,  impelled  bv  hatred 
and  revenge,  mangled  and  mutilated  tlie  limbs  of  the  dead 
Normans,  in  a  manner  unworthy  of  their  national  cause  and 
their  own  courage.     The  fearful  yells  with  which  this  dread- 


34  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ful  work  was  consummated,  while  it  struck  horror  into  the 
minds  of  the  slender  garrison  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  in- 
spired them  at  the  same  time  with  the  resolution  rather  to 
defend  the  fortress  to  the  last  extremity  than  to  submit  to 
the  mercy  of  so  vengeful  an  enemy.* 

*  See  Courage  of  the  Welsh.    Note  5. 


CHAPTER  V 

That  baron  he  to  his  castle  fled. 

To  Barnard  Castle  then  fled  he ; 
The  uttermost  walls  were  eathe  to  win, 

The  earls  liave  won  them  speediUe. 
The  uttermost  walls  were  stone  and  brick; 

But  though  they  won  them  soon  anon, 
Long  ere  they  won  the  inmost  walls, 

For  they  were  hewn  in  rock  of  stone. 

Percy's  Relics  of  Ancient  Poetry. 

The  unhappy  fate  of  the  battle  was  soon  evident  to  the 
anxious  spectators  upon  the  watch-towers  of  the  Garde  Do- 
loureuse,  which  name  the  castle  that  day  too  well  deserved. 
With  difficulty  the  confessor  mastered  his  own  emotions  to 
control  those  of  the  females  on  whom  he  attended,  and  who 
were  now  joined  in  their  lamentations  by  many  others — 
women,  children,  and  infirm  old  men,  the  relatives  of  those 
whom  they  saw  engaged  in  this  unavailing  contest.  These 
helpless  beings  had  been  admitted  to  the  castle  for  security's 
sake,  and  they  had  now  thronged  to  the  battlements,  from 
which  Father  Aldrovand  found  difficulty  in  making  them 
descend,  aware  that  the  sight  of  them  on  the  towers,  that 
should  have  appeared  lined  with  armed  men,  would  be  an 
additional  encouragement  to  the  exertions  of  the  assailants. 
He  urged  the  Lady  Eveline  to  set  an  example  to  this  group 
of  helpless,  yet  untractable,  mourners. 

Preserving,  at  least  endeavoring  to  preserve,  even  in  the 
extremity  of  grief,  that  composure,  which  the  manner  of  the 
times  enjoined — for  chivalry  had  its  stoicism  as  well  as  phi- 
losophy— Eveline  replied  with  a  voice  which  she  would  fain 
have  rendered  firm,  and  which  was  tremulous  in  her  despite 
— "Yes,  father,  you  say  well — here  is  no  longer  aught  left 
for  maidens  to  look  upon.  Warlike  meed  and  honored  deed 
sunk  when  yonder  white  plume  touched  the  bloody  ground. 
Come,  maidens,  there  is  no  longer  aught  left  us  to  see — to 
mass,  to  mass — the  tourney  is  over." 

There  was  wildness  in  her  tone,  and  when  she  rose,  with 
the  air  of  one  who  would  lead  out  a  procession,  she  staggered, 
and  would  have  fallen  but  for  the  support  of  the  confessor. 
35 


36  WA  VERL E  Y  NO VELS 

Hastily  wrapping  her  head  in  her  mantle,  as  if  auhamed  of 
the  agony  of  grief  which  she  could  not  restrain,  and  of  which 
her  sobs  and  the  low  moaning  sounds  that  issued  from  under 
the  folds  enveloping  her  face  declared  the  excess,  she  suffered 
Father  Aldrovand  to  conduct  her  whither  he  would. 

**  Our  gold,"  he  said,  "  has  changed  to  brass,  our  silver  to 
dross,  our  wisdom  to  folly  ;  it  is  His  will  who  confounds  the 
counsels  of  the  wise,  and  shortens  the  arm  of  the  mighty. 
To  the  chapel — to  the  chapel,  Lady  Eveline  ;  and  instead  of 
vain  repining,  let  us  pray  to  God  and  the  saints  to  turn  away 
their  displeasure,  and  to  save  the  feeble  remnant  from  the 
jaws  of  the  devouring  wolf." 

Thus  speaking,  he  half  led,  half  supported  Eveline,  who 
was  at  the  moment,  almost  incapable  of  thought  and  action, 
to  the  castle-chapel,  Avhere,  sinking  before  the  altar,  she 
assumed  the  attitude  at  least  of  devotion,  though  her  thoughts 
despite  the  pious  words  which  her  tongue  faltered  out 
mechanically,  were  upon  the  field  of  battle,  beside  the  body 
of  her  slaughtered  parent.  The  rest  of  the  mourners  imitated 
their  young  lady  in  her  devotional  posture,  and  in  the 
absence  of  her  thoughts.  The  consciousness  that  so  many  of 
the  garrison  had  been  cut  off  in  Raymond's  incautious  sally 
added  to  their  sorrows  the  sense  of  personal  insecurity,  which 
were  exaggerated  by  the  cruelties  which  were  too  often 
exercised  by  the  enemy,  who,  in  the  heat  of  victory,  were 
accustomed  to  spare  neither  sex  nor  age. 

The  monk,  however,  assumed  among  them  the  tone  of 
authority  wliich  his  character  warranted,  rebuked  their  wail- 
ing and  ineffectual  complaints,  and  having,  as  he  thought, 
brought  them  to  such  a  state  of  mind  as  better  became  their 
condition,  he  left  them  to  their  private  devotions,  to  indulge 
his  own  anxious  curiosity  by  inquiring  into  the  defenses  of 
the  castle.  Upon  the  outward  walls  he  found  Wilkin  Flam- 
mock,  who,  having  done  the  office  of  a  good  and  skilful 
captain  in  the  mode  of  managing  his  artillery,  and  beating 
back,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  advanced  guard  of  the 
enemy,  was  now  with  his  own  hand  measuring  out  to  his 
little  garrison  no  stinted  allowance  of  wine." 

"  Have  a  care,  good  Wilkin,"  said  the  father,  "  that  thou 
dost  not  exceed  in  this  matter.  Wine  is,  thou  knowest,  like 
fire  and  water,  an  excellent  servant,  but  a  very  bad  master." 

*'  It  will  be  long  ere  it  overflow  the  deep  and  solid  skulls 
of  my  countrymen,"  said  Wilkin  Flammock.  "  Our  Flem- 
ish courage  is  like  our  Flanders  horses — the  one  needs  the 
gpur,  and  the  other  must  have  a  taste  of  the  wine-pot ;  but, 


THE  BETROTHED  St 

credit  me,  father,  they  are  of  an  enduring  generation,  and 
will  not  shrink  in  the  washing.  But,  indeed,  if  I  were  to 
give  the  knaves  a  cup  more  than  enough,  it  were  not  alto- 
gether amiss,  since  they  are  like  to  have  a  platter  the  less/' 

'*  How  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  the  monk  starting.  "  1 
trust  in  the  saints  the  provisions  have  been  cared  for  ?  " 

"  Not  so  well  as  in  your  convent,  good  father,"  replied 
Wilkin,  with  the  same  immovable  stolidity  of  countenance. 
"  We  had  kept,  as  you  know,  too  jolly  a  Christmas  to  have  a 
very  fat  Easter.  Yon  Welsh  hounds,  who  helped  to  eat  up 
our  victuals,  are  now  like  to  get  into  our  hold  fur  the  lack 
of  them." 

'*  Thou  talkest  mere  folly,"  answered  the  monk  :  "orders 
were  last  evening  given  by  our  lord — whose  soul  God  assoilzie! 
— to  fetch  in  the  necessary  suj)plies  from  the  country  around!" 

"  Ay,  but  the  Welsh  were  too  sharp  set  to  permit  us  to  do 
that  at  our  ease  this  morning,  which  should  have  been  done 
weeks  and  months  since.  Our  lord  deceased,  if  deceased  he 
be,  was  one  of  those  who  trusted  to  the  edge  of  the  sword, 
and  even  so  hath  come  of  it.  Commend  me  to  a  cross-bow 
and  a  well-victualed  castle,  if  I  must  needs  fight  at  all.  You 
look  pale,  my  good  father,  a  cup  of  wine  will  revive  you." 

The  monk  motioned  away  from  him  the  untasted  cup 
which  Wilkin  pressed  him  to  with  clownish  civility.  "  AVe 
have  now,  indeed,"  he  said,  "  no  refuge  save  in  prayer  I" 

"  Most  true,  good  father,"  again  replied  the  impassable 
Fleming  ;  '*  pray  therefore  as  much  as  you  will.  I  will 
content  myself  with  fasting,  which  will  come  w^hether  I  will 
or  no."  At  this  moment  a  horn  was  heard  before  the  gate. 
"  Look  to  the  portcullis  and  the  gate,  you  knaves  !  What 
news,  Neil  Hansen  ?  " 

'*  A  messenger  from  the  Welsh  tarries  at  the  mill-hill,  just 
within  shot  of  the  cross-bows  ;  he  has  a  white  flag  and  de- 
mands admittance." 

"  Admit  him  not,  upon  thy  life,  till  we  be  prepared  for 
him,"  said  Wilkin.  *'  Bend  the  bonny  mangonel  upon  the 
place,  and  shoot  him  if  he  dare  to  stir  from  the  spot  where 
he  stands  till  we  get  all  prepared  to  receive  him,"  said  Flam- 
mock,  in  his  native  language.  "And,  Neil,  thou  hounds- 
foot,  bestir  thyself — let'  every  pike,  lance  and  pole  in  the 
castle  be  ranged  along  the  battlements,  and  pointed  through 
the  shot-holes  ;  cut  up  some  tapestry  into  the  shape  of 
banners,  and  show  them  from  the  highest  towers.  Be  ready, 
when  I  give  a  signal,  to  strike  '  naker^  and  blow  trumpets, 
if  we  have  any  ;  if  not,  some  cow-horns — anything  for  a  noise. 


38  WA  VERL EY  NO VEL S 

And  harkye,  Neil  Hansen,  do  you  and  four  or  five  of  your 
fellows  go  to  the  armory  and  slip  on  coats  of  mail :  our 
Netherlandish  corslets  do  not  appal  them  so  much.  Then 
let  the  Welsh  thief  be  blindfolded  and  brouglit  in  amongst 
us.  Do  you  hold  up  your  heads  and  keep  silence — leave  me 
to  deal  with  him — only  have  a  care  there  be  no  English 
among  us." 

The  monk,  who  in  his  travels  had  acquired  some  slight 
knowledge  of  the  Flemish  language,  had  wellnigh  started 
when  he  heard  the  last  article  in  Wilkin's  instructions  to  his 
countryman,  but  commanded  himself,  although  a  little  sur- 
prised, both  at  this  suspicious  circumstance  and  at  the  read- 
iness and  dexterity  with  which  the  rough-hewn  Fleming 
seemed  to  adapt  his  preparations  to  the  rules  of  war  and  of 
sound  policy. 

Wilkin,  on  his  part,  was  not  very  certain  whether  the 
monk  had  not  heard  and  understood  more  of  what  he  said 
to  his  countryman  than  what  he  had  intended.  As  if  to  lull 
asleep  any  suspicion  which  Father  Aldrovand  might  enter- 
tain, he  repeated  to  him  in  English  most  of  the  directions 
which  he  had  given,  adding,  "  Well,  good  father,  what  think 
you  of  it  ?  " 

"  Excellent  well,"  answered  the  father,  "  and  done  as  you 
had  practised  war  from  the  cradle,  instead  of  weaving  broad- 
cloth." 

"■  Nay,  spare  not  your  gibes,  father,"  answered  Wilkin. 
"I  know  full  well  that  you  English  think  that  Flemings 
have  nought  in  their  brain-pan  but  sodden  beef  and  cabbage  ; 
yet  you  see  there  goes  wisdom  to  weaving  of  webs." 

*■'  Eight,  Master  Wilkin  Flammock,"  answered  the  father; 
"  but,  good  Fleming,  wilt  thou  tell  me  what  answer  thou 
wilt  make  to  the  Welsh  prince's  summons  ?" 

"  Reverend  father,  first  tell  me  what  the  summons  will 
be,"  replied  the  Fleming. 

"  To  surrender  this  castle  upon  the  instant,"  answered 
the  monk.     "  What  will  be  your  reply  ?  " 

"  My  answer  will  be — '  Nay,  unless  upon  good  composi- 
tion.'" 

"  How,  sir  Fleming  !  dare  you  mention  composition  and 
the  Castle  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  in  one  sentence?'*  ex- 
claimed the  monk. 

"  Not  if  I  may  do  better,"  answered  the  Flemi7ig.  "  But 
would  your  reverence  have  me  dally  until  the  question 
amongst  the  garrison  be,  whether  a  plump  priest  or  a  fat 
Fleming  will  be  the  better  flesh  to  furnish  their  shambles  ?'* 


TBt:  BETROTHED  8C 

*■' Pshaw!'*  replied  Father  Aldrovand,  "thou  canst  not 
mean  such  folly.  Relief  must  arrive  within  tweuty-four 
hours  at  farthest.  Raymond  Berenger  expected  it  for  cer- 
tain within  such  a  space." 

"  Raymond  Berenger  hath  been  deceived  this  morning  in 
more  matters  than  one/'  answered  the  Fleming. 

"  Hark  thee,  Flanderkin,"  answered  the  monk,  whose 
retreat  from  the  world  had  not  altogether  quenched  his 
military  habits  and  propensities,  "  I  counsel  thee  to  deal 
uprightly  in  this  matter,  as  thou  dost  regard  thine  own  life  ; 
for  here  are  as  many  English  left  alive,  notwithstanding  the 
slaughter  of  the  day,  as  may  well  suffice  to  fling  the  Flemish 
bull-frogs  into  the  castle-ditch,  should  they  have  cause  to 
think  thou  meanest  falsely  in  the  keeping  of  this  castle  and 
the  defense  of  the  Lady  Eveline." 

"  Let  not  your  reverence  be  moved  with  unnecessary  and 
idle  fears,"  replied  Wilkin  Flammock,  "  1  am  castellane  in 
this  house,  by  command  of  its  lord,  and  what  I  hold  for  the 
advantage  of  mine  service,  that  will  I  do." 

"  But  I,"  said  the  angry  monk — "  I  am  the  servant  of  the 
Pope — the  chaplain  of  this  castle,  with  power  to  bind  and  to 
unloose.  I  fear  me  thou  art  no  true  Christian,  Wilkin 
Flammock,  but  dost  lean  to  the  heresy  of  the  mountaineers. 
Thou  hast  refused  to  take  the  blessed  cross ;  thou  hast 
breakfasted,  and  drunk  both  ale  and  wine,  ere  thou  hast 
heard  mass.  Thou  art  not  to  be  trusted,  man,  and  I  will 
not  trust  thee  ;  I  demand  to  be  present  at  the  conference 
betwixt  thee  and  the  Welshman." 

"  It  may  not  be,  good  father,"  said  Wilkin,  with  the  same 
smiling,  heavy  countenance  which  he  maintained  on  all  occa- 
sions of  life,  however  urgent.  "  It  is  true,  as  thou  sayest, 
good  father,  that  I  have  mine  own  reasons  for  not  marching 
quite  so  far  as  the  gates  of  Jericho  at  present ;  and  lucky  I 
have  such  reasons,  since  I  had  not  else  been  here  to  defend 
the  gate  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse.  It  is  also  true  that  I 
may  have  been  somstimes  obliged  to  visit  my  mills  earlier 
than  the  chaplain  was  called  by  his  zeal  to  the  altar,  and 
that  my  stomach  brooks  not  working  ere  I  break  my  fast. 
But  for  this,  father,  I  have  paid  a  mulct  even  to  your  wor- 
shipful reverence,  and  methinks,  since  you  are  pleased  to 
remember  the  confession  so  exactly,  you  should  not  forget 
the  penance  and  the  absolution." 

The  monk,  in  alluding  to  the  secrets  of  the  confessional, 
had  gone  a  step  beyond  what  the  rules  of  his  order  and  of 
the   church  permitted.     He  was  baffled  by  the  Fleming's 


40  WAVER  LEY  NOVELL 

reply,  and  finding  him  unmoyed  by  the  charge  of  heresy,  he 
conld  only  answer  in  some  confusion,  "You  refuse,  then, 
to  admit  me  to  your  conference  with  the  Welshman  ?" 

"  Eeverend  father,"  said  Wilkin,  "it  altogether  respect- 
eth  secular  matters.  If  aught  of  religious  tenor  should 
intervene,  you  shall  be  summoned  without  delay." 

"I  will  be  there  in  spite  of  thee,  thou  Flemish  ox,"  mnt- 
tered  the  monk  to  himself,  but  in  a  tone  not  to  be  heard  by 
the  bystanders  ;  and  so  speaking,  he  left  the  battlements. 

Wilkin  Flammock,  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  having  first 
seen  that  all  was  arranged  on  the  battlements,  so  as  to  give 
an  imposing  idea  of  the  strength  which  did  not  exist,  de- 
scended to  a  small  guard-room,  betwixt  the  outer  and  inner 
gate,  where  he  was  attended  by  half  a  dozen  of  his  own 
people,  disguised  in  tlie  Norman  armor  which  they  had  found 
in  the  armory  of  the  castle — their  strong,  tall,  and  bulky 
forms  and  motionless  postures  causing  them  to  look  rather 
like  trophies  of  some  jiast  age  than  living  and  existing  sol- 
diers. Surrounded  by  these  huge  and  inanimate  figures, 
in  a  little  vaulted  room  which  almost  excluded  daylight, 
Flammock  received  the  Welsh  envoy,  who  was  led  in  blind- 
folded betwixt  two  Flemings,  yet  not  so  carefully  watched 
but  that  they  permitted  him  to  have  a  glimpse  of  the  prep- 
arations on  the  battlements,  which  had,  in  fact,  been  made 
chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  imposing  on  him.  For  the  same 
purpose  an  occasiona!^  clatter  of  arms  was  made  without : 
voices  were  heard  a;  'f  officers  were  going  their  rounds  ; 
and  other  sounds  of  active  preparation  seemed  to  announce 
that  a  numerous  and  regular  garrison  was  preparing  to 
receive  an  attack. 

When  the  bandage  was  removed  from  Jorworth's  eyes — 
for  the  same  individual  who  had  formerly  brought  Gwen- 
wyn's  offer  of  alliance  now  bare  his  summons  of  surrender 
— he  looked  haughtily  around  him,  and  demanded  to  whom 
he  was  to  deliver  the  commands  of  his  master,  the  Gwen- 
wyn,  son  of  Cyveiliock,  Prince  of  Powys. 

"  His  highness,"  answered  Flammock,  with  his  usual 
smiling  indifference  of  manner,  "must  be  contented  to 
treat  with  Wilkin  Flammock  of  the  fulling-mills,  deputed 
governor  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse." 

"Thou  deputed  governor!"  exclaimed  Jorworth — "thou  ! 
a  Low-Country  weaver  ! — it  is  impossible.  Low  as  they  are, 
the  English  crogan  cannot  have  sunk  to  a  point  so  low  as  to 
be  commanded  by  tJiee!  These  men  seem  English  ;  to  them 
1  will  deliver  my  message." 


i 


TBE  BETROTHED  41 

"You  may  if  you  will/'  replied  Wilkin,  "but  if  they 
return  you  any  answer  save  by  signs,  you  shall  call  me 
schelm." 

"Is  this  true?"  said  the  AVelsh  envoy,  looking  towards 
the  men-at-arms,  as  they  seemed,  by  whom  Flammock  was 
attended — "  are  you  really  come  to  this  pass  ?  I  thought 
that  the  mere  having  been  born  on  British  earth,  though 
the  children  of  spoilers  and  invaders,  had  inspired  you  with 
too  much  pride  to  brook  the  yoke  of  a  base  mechanic.  Or, 
if  vou  are  not  courageous,  should  you  not  be  cautious  ? 
Well  speaks  the  proverb,  '  Woe  to  him  that  wdl  trust  a 
stranger!'  Still  mute — still  silent?  Answer  me  by  word 
or  sign.  Do  you  really  call  and  acknowledge  him  as  your 
leader?" 

The  men  in  armor  with  one  accord  nodded  their  casques 
in  reply  to  Jorworth's  question,  and  then  remained  motion- 
less as  before. 

The  Welshman,  with  the  acute  genius  of  his  country,  sus- 
pected there  was  something  in  this  which  he  could  not 
entirely  comprehend,  but,  preparing  himself  to  be  upon  his 
guard,  he  proceeded  as  follows  :  "  Be  it  as  it  may,  I  care  not 
who  hears  the  message  of  my  sovereign,  since  it  brings  par- 
don and  mercy  to  the  inhabitants  of  this  Castell  an  Carrig,* 
which  you  have  called  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  to  cover  the 
usurpation  of  the  territory  by  the  change  of  the  name. 
Upon  surrender  of  the  same  to  the  Prince  of  Powys,  with 
its  dependencies,  and  with  the  arms  which  it  contains,  and 
with  the  maiden  Eveline  Berenger,  all  within  the  castle 
shall  depart  unmolested,  and  have  safe-conduct  wheresoever 
they  will,  to  go  beyond  the  marches  of  the  Cymry." 

"  And  how,  if  we  obey  not  this  summons  ?'"  said  the 
imperturbable  Wilkin  Flammock. 

"  Then  shall  your  portion  be  with  Raymond  Berenger, 
your  late  leader,"  replied  Jorworth,  his  eyes,  while  he  was 
speaking,  glancing  with  the  vindictive  ferocity  which  dic- 
tated his  answer.  "  So  many  strangers  as  be  here  amongst 
ye,  so  many  bodies  to  the  ravens,  so  many  heads  to  the 
gibbet !  It  is  long  since  the  kites  have  had  such  a  banquet 
of  lurdane  Flemings  and  false  Saxons." 

"Friend  Jorworth,"  said  Wilkin,  "if  such  be  thy  only 
message,  bear  mine  answer  back  to  thy  master,  "  That  wise 
men  trust  not  to  the  words  of  others  that  safety  which  they 
can  secure  by  their  own  deeds.  We  have  walls  high  and 
strong  enough,  deep  moats,  and  plenty  of  munition,  both 
*  Castle  of  the  Craig. 


42  WAV ERLEY  NOVELS 

long-bow  and  arblast.  We  will  keep  the  castle,  trusting  the 
castle  will  keep  us,  till  God  shall  send  us  succor." 

"  Do  not  peril  your  liyes  on  such  an  issue,"  said  the  Welsh 
emissary,  changing  his  language  to  the  Flemish,  which,  from 
occasional  communication  with  those  of  that  nation  in  Pem- 
brokeshire, he  spoke  fluently,  and  which  he  now  adopted,  as 
if  to  conceal  the  purport  of  his  discourse  from  the  supposed 
English  in  the  apartment.  "Hark  thee  hither,"  he  pro- 
ceeded, "good  Fleming.  Knowest  thou  not  that  he  in 
whom  is  your  trust,  the  Constable  De  Lacy,  hath  bound 
himself  by  his  vow  to  engage  in  no  quarrel  till  he  crosses  the 
sea,  and  cannot  come  to  your  aid  without  perjury  ?  He  and 
tlie  other  Lords  Marchers  have  drawn  their  forces  far  north- 
ward to  join  the  host  of  Crusaders.  AVhat  will  it  avail  you 
to  put  us  to  the  toil  and  trouble  of  a  long  siege,  when  you 
can  hope  no  rescue  ?  " 

"  And  what  will  it  avail  me  more,"  said  Wilkin,  answer- 
ing in  his  native  language,  and  looking  at  the  Welshman 
fixedly,  yet  with  a  countenance  from  which  all  expression 
seemed  studiously  banished,  and  which  exhibited,  upon  fea- 
tures otherwise  tolerable,  a  remarkable  compound  of  dulnsss 
and  simplicity — "  what  will  it  avail  me  whether  your  trouble 
be  great  or  small  ?  " 

"  Come,  friend  Flammock,"  said  the  Welshman,  "  frame 
not  thyself  more  unapprehensive  than  nature  hath  formed 
thee.  The  glen  is  dark,  but  a  sunbeam  can  light  the  side  of 
it.  Thy  utmost  efforts  cannot  prevent  the  fall  of  tliis  castle  ; 
but  thou  mayst  hasten  it,  and  the  doing  so  sliall  avail  thee 
much."  Thus  speaking,  he  drew  close  up  to  AYilkin,  and 
sunk  his  voice  to  an  insinuating  whisper,  as  he  said,  "Never 
did  the  withdrawing  of  a  bar  or  the  raising  of  a  portcullis 
bring  such  vantage  to  Fleming  as  they  may  to  thee,  if  thou 
wilt." 

"  I  only  know,"  said  Wilkin,  "  that  the  drawing  the  one 
and  the  dropping  the  other  have  cost  me  my  whole  worldly 
substance." 

"Fleming,  it  shall  be  compensated  to  thee  with  an  over- 
flowing measure.  The  liberality  of  Gwenwyn  is  as  the 
summer  rain." 

"  My  whole  mills  and  buildings  have  been  this  morning 
burnt  to  the  earth " 

"Thou  shalt  have  a  thousand  marks  of  silver,  man,  in  the 
place  of  thy  goods,"  said  the  Welshman  ;  but  the  Fleming 
continued,  without  seeming  to  hear  him,  to  number  up  his 


THE  BETROTHED  43 

"  My  lands  are  forayed,  twenty  kine  driven  off,  and " 

"  Threescore  shall  replace  them,"  interrupted  Jorworth, 
"chosen  from  the  most  bright-skinned  of  the  spoil." 

"  But  my  daughter — but  the  Lady  Eveline "  said  the 

Fleming,  with  some  slight  change  in  his  monotonous  voice, 
which  seemed  to  express  doubt  and  perplexity.  **  You  are 
cruel  conquerors,  and " 

"  To  those  who  resist  us  we  are  fearful,"  said  Jorworth, 
"but  not  to  such  as  shall  deserve  clemency  by  surrender. 
Gwenwyn  will  forget  the  contumelies  of  Eaymond,  and  raise 
his  daughter  to  high  honor  among  the  daughters  of  the 
Cymry.  For  thine  own  child,  form  but  a  wish  for  her 
advantage,  and  it  shall  be  fulfilled  to  the  uttermost.  Now, 
Fleming,  we  understand  each  other." 

"  I  understand  thee,  at  least,"  said  Flammock. 

"  And  I  thee,  I  trust  ?  "  said  Jorworth,  bending  his  keen, 
wild  blue  eye  on  the  stolid  and  unexpressive  face  of  the 
Netherlander,  like  an  eager  student  who  seeks  to  discover 
some  hidden  and  mysterious  meaning  in  a  passage  of  a  clas- 
sic author,  the  direct  import  of  which  seems  trite  and  trivial. 

"  You  believe  that  you  understand  me,"  said  Wilkin;  "  'but 
here  lies  the  difficulty — which  of  us  shall  trust  the  other  ?  " 

"  Barest  thou  ask  ?"  answered  Jorworth.  "  Is  it  for  thee 
or  such  as  thee  to  express  doubt  of  the  purposes  of  the  Prince 
of  Powys  ?  " 

"  I  know  them  not,  good  Jorworth,  but  through  thee  ;  and 
well  I  wot  thou  art  not  one  who  will  let  thy  traffic  miscarry 
for  want  of  aid  from  the  breath  of  thy  mouth." 

"  As  I  am  a  Christian  man,"  said  Jorworth,  hurrying  as- 
severation on  asseveration — "  by  the  soul  of  my  father — by 
the  faith  of  my  mother — by  the  black  rood  of " 

"  Stop,  good  Jorworth  ;  thou  heapest  thine  oaths  too 
thickly  on  each  other  for  me  to  value  them  to  the  right 
estimate,"  said  Flammock  :  "  that  which  is  so  lightly 
pledged  is  sometimes  not  thought  worth  redeeming.  Some 
part  of  the  promised  guerdon  in  hand  the  whilst  were  worth 
an  hundred  oaths." 

"  Thou  suspicious  churl,  darest  thou  doubt  my  word  ?" 

"No,  by  no  means,"  answered  Wilkin;  " ne'ertheless,  I 
will  believe  thy  deed  more  readily." 

"  To  the  point,  Fleming,"  said  Jorworth.  "  What  wouldst 
thou  have  of  me  ?" 

"  Let  me  have  some  present  sight  of  the  money  thou  didst 
promise,  and  I  will  think  of  the  rest  of  thy  proposal." 

"Base  silver-broker!"    answered   Jorworth,"  thinkest 


44  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

tliou  the  Prince  of  Powys  has  as  many  money-bags  as  the 
merchants  of  thy  land  of  sale  and  barter  ?  He  gathers  treas- 
ures by  his  conquests,  as  the  waterspout  sucks  up  water  by 
its  strength  ;  but  it  is  to  disperse  them  among  his  followers, 
as  the  cloudy  column  restores  its  contents  to  earth  and 
ocean.  The  silver  that  I  promise  thee  has  yet  to  be  gath- 
ered out  of  the  Saxon  chests — nay,  the  casket  of  Berenger 
himself  must  be  ransacked  to  make  up  the  tale." 

*••  Methmks  I  could  do  that  mj^self,  having  full  power  in 
the  castle,  and  so  save  you  a  labor,"  said  the  Fleming. 

"■  True,"  answered  Jorworth,  "but  it  would  be  at  the  ex- 
pense of  a  cord  and  a  noose,  whether  the  Welsh  took  the 
place  or  the  jSTormans  relieved  it :  the  one  would  expect 
their  booty  entire,  the  other  their  countryman's  treasures  to 
be  delivered  undiminished." 

"  I  may  not  gainsay  that,"  said  the  Fleming.  "  "Well,  say 
I  were  content  to  trust  you  thus  far,  why  not  return  my  cat- 
tle, which  are  in  your  own  hands  and  at  your  disposal  ?  If 
you  do  not  pleasure  me  in  something  beforehand,  what  can 
I  expect  of  you  afterward  ?  " 

''  I  would  pleasure  you  in  a  greater  matter,"  answered  the 
equally  suspicious  Welshman.  '•'  But  what  would  it  avail 
thee  to  have  thy  cattle  within  the  fortress  ?  They  can  be 
better  cared  for  on  the  plain  beneath." 

"In  faith,"  replied  the  Fleming,  "thou  sayst truth — they 
w'ill  be  but  a  trouble  to  us  here,  where  we  have  so  many 
already  provided  for  the  use  of  the  garrison.  And  yet,  when 
I  consider  it  more  closely,  we  have  enough  of  forage  to  main- 
tain all  we  have,  and  more.  Now,  my  cattle  are  of  a  pecul- 
iar stock,  brought  from  the  rich  pastures  of  Flanders,  and 
I  desire  to  have  them  restored  ere  your  axes  and  Welsh  hooks 
be  busy  with  their  hides." 

"  You  shall  have  them  this  night,  hide  and  horn,"  said 
Jorworth  ;  "  it  is  but  a  small  earnest  of  a  great  boon." 

"  Thanks  to  your  munificence,"  said  the  Fleming ;  "  I  am 
a  simple-minded  man,  and  bound  my  wishes  to  the  recovery 
of  my  own  property." 

"Thou  wilt  be  ready,  then,  to  deliver  the  castle  ?"  said 
Jorworth. 

"  Of  that  we  will  talk  farther  to-morrow,"  said  Wilkin 
Flammock  ;  "if  these  English  and  iS'ormans  should  suspect 
such  a  purpose,  we  should  have  wild  work  :  they  must  be 
fully  dispersed  ere  I  can  hold  farther  communication  on  the 
subject.  Meanwhile,  I  pray  thee,  depart  suddenly,  and  as 
if  offended  with  the  tenor  of  our  discourse." 


THE  BETROTHED  45 

*'  Yet  would  I  fain  know  something  more  fixed  and  abso- 
lute," said  Jorworth. 

"  Impossible — impossible,"  said  the  Fleming;  "  see  you  not 
yonder  tall  fellow  begins  already  to  handle  his  dagger.  Go 
hence  in  haste,  and  angrily — and  forget  not  the  cattle." 

"  I  will  not  forget  them,"  said  Jorworth  ;  "but  if  thou 
keep  not  faith  with  us " 

So  speaking,  he  left  the  apartment  with  a  gesture  of 
menace,  partly  really  directed  to  Wilkin  himself,  partly  as- 
sumed in  consequence  of  his  advice.  Flammock  replied  in 
English,  as  if  that  all  around  might  understand  what  he 
said — 

"  Do  thy  worst,  sir  Welshman  !  I  am  a  true  man  ;  I  defy 
the  proposals  of  rendition,  and  will  hold  out  this  castle  to 
thy  shame  and  thy  master's  !  Here — let  him  be  blindfolded 
once  more,  and  returned  in  safety  to  his  attendants  without ; 
the  next  Welshman  who  appears  before  the  gate  of  the 
Garde  Doloureuse  shall  be  more  sharply  received." 

The  Welshman  was  blindfolded  and  withdrawn,  when,  as 
Wilkin  Flammock  himself  left  the  guard-room,  one  of  the 
seeming  men-at-arms  who  had  been  present  at  this  inter- 
view said  in  his  ear,  in  English,  "  Thou  art  a  false  traitor, 
Flammock,  and  shalt  die  a  traitor's  death  !" 

Startled  at  this,  the  Fleming  would  have  questioned  the 
man  farther,  but  he  had  disappeared  so  soon  as  the  words 
were  uttered.  Flammock  was  disconcerted  by  this  circum- 
stance, which  showed  him  that  his  interview  with  Jorworth 
had  been  observed,  and  its  purpose  known  or  conjectured, 
by  some  one  who  was  a  stranger  to  his  confidence,  and  might 
thwart  his  intentions  ;  and  he  quickly  after  learned  that  thi. 
was  the  case. 


CHAPTER  VI 

Blessed  Mary,  mother  dear, 

To  a  maiden  bend  thine  ear 

Virgin,  undefiled,  to  thee 

A  wretched  virgin  bends  the  knee. 

Hymn  to  the  Virgin. 

The  daughter  of  the  slaughtered  Raymond  had  descended 
from  the  elevated  station  whence  she  had  beheld  the  field  of 
battle,  in  the  agony  of  grief  natural  to  a  child  whose  eyes 
have  beheld  the  death  of  an  honored  and  beloved  father. 
But  her  station,  and  the  principles  of  chivalry  in  which  she 
had  been  trained  up,  did  not  permit  any  prolonged  or  need- 
less indulgence  of  inactive  sorrow.  In  raising  the  young  and 
beautiful  of  the  female  sex  to  the  rank  of  princesses,  or 
rather  goddesses,  the  spirit  of  that  singular  system  exacted 
from  them,  in  requital,  a  tone  of  character  and  a  line  of 
conduct  superior,  and  something  contradictory,  to  that  of 
natural  or  merely  human  feeling.  Its  heroines  frequently 
resembled  portraits  shown  by  an  artificial  light — strong  and 
luminous,  and  which  placed  in  high  relief  the  objects  on 
which  it  was  turned  ;  but  having  still  something  of  adventi- 
tious splendor,  which  compared  with  that  of  the  natural 
day,  seemed  glaring  and  exaggerated. 

It  was  not  permitted  to  the  orphan  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse, 
the  daughter  of  a  line  of  heroes,  whose  stem  was  to  be  found 
in  the  race  of  Thor,  Balder,  Odin,  and  other  deified  warriors 
of  the  North,  whose  beauty  was  the  theme  of  a  hundred  min- 
strels, and  her  eyes  the  leading  star  of  half  the  chivalry  of 
the  warlike  marches  of  Wales,  to  mourn  her  sire  with  the  in- 
effectual tears  of  a  village  maiden.  Young  as  she  was,  and 
horrible  as  was  the  incident  which  she  had  but  that  instant 
witnessed,  it  was  not  altogether  so  appalling  to  her  as  to  a 
maiden  whose  eye  had  not  been  accustomed  to  the  rough, 
and  often  fatal,  sports  of  chivalry,  and  whose  residence  had 
not  been  among  scenes  and  men  where  war  and  death  had 
been  the  unceasing  theme  of  every  tongue,  whose  imagina- 
tion had  not  been  familiarized  with  wild  and  bloody  events., 
or,  finally,  who  had  not  been  trained  up  to  consider  an  honor- 
able "  death  under  shield,^'  as  that  of  a  field  of  battle  was 


THE  BETROTHED  4T 

termed,  as  a  more  desirable  termination  to  the  life  of  a  war- 
rior than  that  lingering  and  unhonored  fate  which  comes 
slowly  on,  to  conclude  the  listless  and  helpless  inactivity  of 
prolonged  old  age.  Eveline,  while  she  wept  for  her  father, 
felt  her  bosom  glow  when  she  recollected  that  he  died  in  the 
blaze  of  his  fame,  and  amidst  heaps  of  his  shiuglitered  enemies  ; 
and  when  she  thought  of  the  exigencies  of  her  own  situation, 
it  was  with  the  determination  to  defend  her  own  liberty,  and 
to  avenge  lier  father's  death,  by  every  means  which  Heaven 
had  left  within  her  power. 

The  aids  of  religion  were  not  forgotten  ;  and,  according 
to  the  custom  of  the  times  and  the  doctrines  of  the  Roman 
Church,  she  endeavored  to  propitiate  tlie  favor  of  Heaven  by 
vows  as  well  as  prayers.  In  a  small  crypt,  or  oratory,  adjoin- 
ing to  the  chapel  was  hung  over  an  altar-piece,  on  which  a 
lamp  constantly  burned,  a  small  picture  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
revered  as  a  household  and  peculiar  deity  by  the  family  of 
Berenger,  one  of  whose  ancestors  had  brought  it  from  tlie 
Holy  Land,  whither  he  had  gone  upon  pilgrimage.  It  was  of 
the  period  of  the  Lower  Empire,  a  Grecian  painting,  not  un- 
like those  which  in  Catholic  countries  are  often  imputed  to 
the  Evangelist  Luke.  The  crpyt  in  which  it  was  placed  was 
accounted  a  shrine  of  uncommon  sanctity — nay,  supposed  to 
have  displayed  miraculous  powers  ;  and  Eveline,  by  the  daily 
■  garlands  of  flower  which  she  offered  before  the  painting,  and 
by  the  constant  prayers  with  which  they  were  accompanied, 
had  constituted  herself  the  peculiar  votress  of  Our  Lady  of 
the  Garde  Doloureuse,  for  so  the  picture  was  named. 

Now,  apart  from  others,  alone,  and  in  secrecy,  sinking  in 
the  extremity  of  her  sorrow  before  the  shrine  of  her  patron- 
ess, she  besought  the  protection  of  kindred  purity  for  the 
defense  of  her  freedom  and  honor,  and  invoked  vengeance 
on  the  wild  and  treacherous  chieftain   who  had  slain  her 
father  and  was  now  beleaguering  her  place  of  strength.     Not 
only  did  she  vow  a  large  donative  in  lands  to  the  shrine  of 
the  protectress  whose  aid  she  implored,  but  the  oath  passed 
I  her  lips  (even  though  they  faltered,  and  though  something 
!  within  her  remonstrated  against  the  vow),  that  whatsoever 
i  favored  knight  Our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  might  em- 
ploy for  her  rescue  should  obtain  from  her  in  guerdon  what- 
,  eyer^  boon  she  might  honorably  grant,  were  it  that  of  her 
1  virgin  hand  at  the  holy  altar.     Taught  as  she  was  to  believe, 
:  by  the  assurances  of  many  a  knight,  that  such  a  surrender 
'  was  the  highest  boon  which  Heaven  could  bestow,  she  felt 
!  as  discharging  a  debt  of  gratitude  when  she  placed  herself 


48  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL  S 

entirely  at  the  disposal  of  the  pure  and  blessed  patroness  in 
whose  aid  she  confided.  Perhaps  there  lurked  in  this  devo- 
tion some  earthly  hope  of  which  she  was  herself  scarce  con- 
scious, and  which  reconciled  her  to  the  indefinite  sacrifice 
thus  freely  offered.  The  Virgin  (this  flattering  hope  might 
insinuate),  kindest  and  most  benevolent  of  patronesses,  will 
use  compassionately  the  power  resigned  to  her,  and  he  will 
be  the  favored  champion  of  Maria  upon  whom  her  votaress 
would  most  willingly  confer  favor. 

But  if  there  was  such  a  hope,  as  something  selfish  will 
often  mingle  with  our  noblest  and  purest  emotions,  it  arose 
unconscious  of  Eveline  herself,  who,  in  the  full  assurance 
of  implicit  faith,  and  fixing  on  the  representative  of  her 
adoration  eyes  in  which  the  most  earnest  supplication,  the 
most  humble  confidence,  struggled  with  unbidden  tears, 
was  perhaps  more  beautiful  than  when,  young  as  she  was, 
she  was  selected  to  bestow  the  prize  of  chivalry  in  the  lists 
of  Chester.  It  was  no  wonder  that,  in  such  a  moment  of 
high  excitation,  when  prostrated  in  devotion  before  a  being 
of  whose  power  to  protect  her,  and  to  make  her  protection 
assured  by  a  visible  sign,  she  doubted  nothing,  the  Lady 
Eveline  conceived  she  saw  with  her  own  eyes  the  acceptance 
of  her  vow.  As  she  gazed  on  the  picture  with  an  over- 
strained eye,  and  an  imagination  heated  with  enthusiasm, 
the  expression  seemed  to  alter  from  the  hard  outlined  fash- 
ioned by  the  Greek  painter  :  the  eyes  appeared  to  become 
animated,  and  to  return  with  looks  of  compassion  the  sup- 
pliant entreaties  of  the  votaress  ;  and  the  mouth  visibly 
arranged  itself  into  a  smile  of  inexpressible  sweetness.  It 
even  seemed  to  her  that  the  head  made  a  gentle  inclination. 

Overpowered  by  supernatural  awe  at  appearances  of  which 
her  faith  permitted  her  not  to  question  the  reality,  the  Lady 
Eveline  folded  her  arms  on  her  bosom  and  prostrated  her 
forehead  on  the  pavement,  as  the  posture  most  fitting  to 
listen  to  divine  communication. 

But  her  vision  went  not  so  far  :  there  was  neither  sound 
nor  voice,  and  when,  after  stealing  her  eyes  all  around  the 
crypt  in  which  she  knelt,  she  again  raised  them  to  the  figure 
of  Our  Lady,  the  features  seemed  to  be  in  the  form  in  which 
the  limner  had  sketched  them,  saving  that,  to  Eveline's 
imagination,  they  still  retained  an  august  and  yet  gracious 
expression,  which  she  had  not  before  remarked  upon  the 
countenance.  With  awful  reverence,  almost  amounting  to 
fear,  yet  comforted  and  even  elated  with  the  visitation  she 
had  witnessed,  the  maiden  repeated  again  and  again  the ' 


THE  BETBOTUEt)  4Si 

orisons  which  she  thought  most  grateful  to  the  ear  of  her 
benefactress  ;  and,  rising  at  length,  retired  backwards,  as 
from  the  presence  of  a  sovereign,  until  she  attained  the  outer 
chapel. 

Here  one  or  two  females  still  knelt  before  the  saints  which 
the  walls  and  niches  presented  for  adoration  ;  but  the  rest 
of  the  terrified  suppliants,  too  anxious  to  prolong  their 
devotions,  had  dispersed  through  the  castle  to  learn  tidings 
of  their  friends,  and  to  obtain  some  refreshment,  or  at  least 
some  place  of  repose,  for  themselves  and  their  families. 

Bowing  her  head,  and  muttering  an  ave  to  each  saint  as 
she  passed  his  image  (for  impending  danger  makes  men 
observant  of  the  rites  of  devotion),  the  Lady  Eveline  had 
ahnost  reached  the  door  of  the  chapel,  when  a  man-at-arms, 
as  he  seemed,  entered  hastily  ;  and  with  a  louder  voice  than 
suited  the  holy  place,  unless  when  need  was  most  urgent, 
demanded  the  Lady  Eveline.  Impressed  with  the  feelings 
of  veneration  which  the  late  scene  had  produced,  she  was 
about  to  rebuke  his  military  rudeness,  when  he  spoke  again, 
and  in  anxious  haste,  "  Daughter,  we  are  betrayed  !  "  and 
though  the  form,  and  the  coat  of  mail  which  covered  it, 
were  those  of  a  soldier,  the  voice  was  that  of  Father  Aldro- 
vand,  who,  eager  and  anxious  at  the  same  time,  disengaged 
liimself  from  the  mail  hood  and  showed  his  countenance. 

'' Father,"  she  said,  "what  means  this?  Have  you  for- 
gotten the  confidence  in  Heaven  which  you  are  wont  to  rec- 
ommend, that  you  bear  other  arms  than  your  order  assigns 
to  you?" 

"  It  may  come  to  that  ere  long,"  said  Father  Aldrovand  ; 
"  for  I  was  a  soldier  ere  I  was  a  monk.  But  now  I  have 
donned  this  harness  to  discover  treachery,  not  to  assist 
force.  Ah  !  my  beloved  daughter,  we  are  dreadfully  beset 
— foemen  without — traitors  within  !  The  false  Fleming, 
Wilkin  Flammock,  is  treating  for  the  surrender  of  the 
castle." 

"Who  dares  say  so  ?"  said  a  veiled  female,  who  had  been 
kneeling  unnoticed  in  a  sequestered  corner  of  the  chapel, 
but  who  now  started  up  and  came  boldly  betwixt  Lady  Eve- 
line and  the  monk. 

"  Go  hence,  thou  saucy  minion,"  said  the  monk,  sur- 
prised at  this  iDold  interruption,   "  this  concerns  not  thee-" 

"  But  it  doth  concern  me,"  said  the  damsel,  throwing  back 

lier  veil,  and  discovering  the  juvenile  countenance  of  Eose, 

the  daughter  of  Wilkin  Flammock,  her  eyes  sparkling,  and 

her  cheeks  blushing  with  anger,  the  vehemence  of  which 

4 


50  WA  VEELEY  NO  VEL8 

made  a  singular  contrast  with  the  very  fair  complexion  and 
almost  infantine  features  of  the  speaker,  whose  whole  form 
and  figure  was  that  of  a  girl  who  has  scarce  emerged  from 
childhood,  and  indeed  whose  general  manners  were  as  gentle 
and  bashful  as  they  now  seemed  bold,  impassioned,  and 
undaunted.  "  Doth  it  not  concern  me,"  she  said,  "  that 
my  father's  honest  name  should  be  tainted  with  treason  ? 
Doth  it  not  concern  the  stream  when  the  fountain  is  troubled  ? 
It  doth  concern  me,  and  I  will  know  the  author  of  the 
calumny." 

''Damsel,"  said  Eveline,  "restrain  thy  useless  passion; 
the  good  father,  tliougli  he  cannot  intentionally  calumniate 
thy  father,  speaks,  it  may  be,  from  false  report." 

"  As  I  am  an  unworthy  priest,"  said  the  father,  "  I  speak 
from  the  report  of  my  own  ears.  Upon  the  oath  of  my  order, 
myself  heard  this  Wilkin  Flammock  chaffering  with  the 
Welshman  for  the  surrender  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse.  By 
help  of  this  hauberk  and  mail  hood,  I  gained  admittance  to 
a  conference  where  he  thought  there  were  no  English  ears. 
They  spoke  Flemish  too,  but  I  knew  the  jargon  of  old." 

"  The  Flemish,"  said  the  angry  maiden,  whose  headstrong 
passion  led  her  to  speak  first  in  answer  to  the  last  insult 
offered,  "is  no  jargon  like  your  piebald  English,  half  Nor- 
man, half  Saxon,  but  a  noble  Gothic  tongue,  spoken  by  the 
brave  warriors  who  fought  against  the  Roman  kaisers,  when 
Britain  bent  the  neck  to  them.  And  as  for  this  he  has  said 
of  Wilkin  Flammock,"  she  continued,  collecting  her  ideas 
into  more  order  as  she  went  on,  "believe  it  not,  my  dearest 
lady  ;  but  as  you  value  the  honor  of  your  own  noble  father, 
confide,  as  in  the  Evangelists,  in  the  honesty  of  mine." 
This  she  spoke  with  an  imploring  tone  of  voice,  mingled 
with  sobs,  as  if  her  heart  had  been  breaking. 

Eveline  endeavored  to  soothe  her  attendant.  "  Rose/* 
she  said,  "  in  this  evil  time  suspicions  will  light  on  the  best 
men,  and  misunderstandings  will  arise  among  the  best 
friends.  Let  us  hear  the  good  father  state  what  he  hath  to 
charge  upon  your  parent.  Fear  not  but  that  Wilkin  shall 
be  heard  in  his  defense.  Thou  wert  wont  to  be  quiet  and 
reasonable." 

"  I  am  neither  quiet  nor  reasonable  on  this  matter,"  said 
Rose,  with  redoubled  indignation  ;  "  and  it  is  ill  of  you, 
lady,  to  listen  to  the  falsehoods  of  that  reverend  mummer, 
who  is  neither  true  priest  nor  true  soldier.  But  I  will  fetch 
one  who  shall  confront  him  either  in  casque  or  cowl." 

So  saying,  she  went  hastily  out  of  the  chapel,  while  th» 


TEK  BETROTHED  51 

monk,  after  some  pedantic  circumlocution,  acquainted  the 
Lady  Eveline  with  wliat  he  had  overheard  betwixt  Jorworth 
and  Wilkin  ;  and  proposed  to  her  to  draw  together  the  few 
English  who  were  in  the  castle,  and  take  possession  of  the 
innermost  square  tower — a  keep  which,  as  usual  in  Gothic 
fortresses  of  the  Norman  period,  was  situated  so  as  to  make 
considerable  defense,  even  after  the  exterior  works  of  the 
castle,  which  it  commanded,  were  in  the  hand  of  the  enemy. 

"  Father,"'  said  Eveline,  still  confident  in  the  vision  she 
had  lately  witnessed,  "  this  were  good  counsel  in  extremity  ; 
but  otherwise,  it  were  to  create  the  very  evil  we  fear,  by 
setting  our  garrison  at  odds  amongst  themselves.  I  have  a 
strong,  and  not  unwarranted,  confidence,  good  father,  in 
our  blessed  Lady  of  this  Garde  Douloureuse,  that  we  shall 
attain  at  once  vengeance  on  our  barbarous  enemies  and 
escape  from  our  present  Jeopardy  ;  and  I  call  you  to  witness 
the  vow  I  have  made,  that  to  him  whom  Our  Lady  should 
employ  to  work  us  succor  I  will  refuse  nothing,  were  it  my 
father's  inheritance  or  the  hand  of  his  daughter." 

"Ave  Maria  !  Ave  Regina  Coeli .'"  said  the  priest ;  "  on  a 
rock  more  sure  you  could  not  have  founded  your  trust.  But, 
daughter,"  he  continued,  after  the  proper  ejaculation  had 
been  made,  ' '  have  you  never  heard,  even  by  a  hint,  that 
there  was  a  treaty  for  your  hand  betwixt  our  much  honored 
lord,  of  whom  we  are  cruelly  bereft — may  God  assoilzie  his 
,Boul  ! — and  the  great  house  of  Lacy  ?" 

"  Something  I  may  have  heard,"  said  Eveline,  dropping 
her  eyes,  while  a  slight  tinge  suffused  her  cheek;  ''but 
I  refer  me  to  the  disposal  of  Our  Lady  of  Succor  and 
Consolation." 

As  she  spoke.  Rose  entered  the  chapel  with  the  same 
vivacity  she  had  shown  in  leaving  it,  leading  by  the  hand 
her  father,  whose  sluggish  though  firm  step,  vacant  counte- 
nance, and  heavy  demeanor  formed  the  strongest  contrast  to 
the  rapidity  of  her  motions,  and  the  anxious  animation  of 
her  address.  Her  task  of  dragging  him  forward  might  have 
reminded  the  spectator  of  some  of  those  ancient  monuments 
on  which  a  small  cherub,  singularly  inadequate  to  the  task, 
is  often  represented  as  hoisting  upward  towards  the  empyrean 
the  fleshly  bulk  of  some  ponderous  tenant  of  the  tomb, 
whose  disproportioned  weight  bids  fair  to  render  ineffectual 
the  benevolent  and  spirited  exertions  of  its  fluttering  guide 
and  assistant. 

"Roschen — my  child,  what  grieves  thee?"  said  the 
Netherlander,  as  he  yielded  to  his  daughter's  violence  with 


52  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

a  smile,  which,  being  on  the  countenance  of  a  father,  had 
more  of  expression  and  feeling  than  those  which  seemed  to 
have  made  their  constant  dwelling  upon  his  lips. 

"^  Here  stands  my  father,"  said  the  impatient  maiden ; 
"  impeach  him  with  treason,  who  can  or  dare  ?  There 
stands  Wilkin  Flammock,  son  of  Dieterick,  the  cramer  of 
Antwerp  ;  let  those  accuse  him  to  his  face  who  slandered 
him  behind  his  back  !  " 

"  Speak,  Father  Aldrovand,*'  said  the  Lady  Eveline  ;  '*  we 
are  young  in  our  lordship,  and,  alas  !  the  duty  hath  de- 
scended upon  us  in  an  evil  hour  ;  yet  we  will,  so  may  God 
and  Our  Lady  help  us,  hear  and  judge  of  your  accusation  to 
the  utmost  of  our  power." 

"  This  Wilkin  Flammock,'*  said  the  monk,  "  however  bold 
he  hath  made  himself  in  villainy,  dares  not  deny  that  I 
heard  him  with  my  own  ears  treat  for  the  surrender  of  the 
castle." 

"  Strike  him,  father  !  '*  said  the  indignant  Rose — "  strike 
the  disguised  mummer  !  The  steel  hauberk  may  be  struck, 
though  not  the  monk's  frock — strike  him,  or  tell  him  that 
he  lies  foully  ! " 

"  Peace,  JRoschen,  thou  art  mad,"  said  her  father,  angrily  ; 
"the  monk  hath  more  truth  than  sense  about  him,  and  I 
would  his  ears  had  been  farther  off  when  he  thrust  them  into 
what  concerned  him  not." 

Rose's  countenance  fell  when  she  heard  her  father  bluntly 
avow  the  treasonable  communication  of  which  she  had 
thought  him  incapable  ;  she  dropped  the  hand  by  which  she 
had  dragged  him  into  the  chapel,  and  stared  on  the  Lady 
Eveline  with  eyes  which  seemed  starting  from  their  sockets, 
and  a  countenance  from  which  the  blood,  with  which  it  was 
so  lately  highly  colored,  had  retreated  to  garrison  the  heart. 

Eveline  looked  upon  the  culprit  with  a  countenance  in 
which  sweetness  and  dignity  were  mingled  with  sorrow. 
"  Wilkin,"  she  said,  "  I  could  not  have  believed  this.  What ! 
on  the  very  day  of  thy  confiding  benefactor's  death,  canst 
thou  have  been  tampering  with  his  murderers,  to  deliver  up 
the  castle  and  betray  thy  trust  ?  But  I  will  not  upbraid 
thee.  I  deprive  thee  of  the  trust  reposed  in  so  unworthy  a 
person,  and  appoint  thee  to  be  kept  in  ward  in  the  western 
tower  till  God  send  us  relief,  when,  it  may  be,  thy  daughter's 
merits  shall  atone  for  thy  offenses,  and  save  farther  punish- 
ment.    See  that  our  commands  be  presently  obeyed." 

"  Yes — yes — yes  ! "  exclaimed  Rose,  hurrying  one  word 
on  the  other  as  fast  and  vehemently  as  she  could  articulate. 


THE  BETROTHED  3S 

"  Let  us  go — let  us  go  to  the  darkest  dungeon ;  darkness 
befits  us  better  than  light." 

The  monk,  on  the  other  hand,  perceiving  that  the  Flem- 
ing made  no  motion  to  obey  the  mandate  of  arrest,  came 
forward,  in  a  manner  more  suiting  his  ancient  profession  and 
present  disguise  than  his  spiritual  character  ;  and  with  the 
words,  "  I  attach  thee,  Wilkin  Flammock,  of  acknowledged 
treason  to  your  liege  lady,''  would  have  laid  hand  upon  him, 
had  not  the  Fleming  stepped  back  and  warned  him  off  with 
a  menacing  and  determined  gesture,  while  he  said — "Ye  are 
mad  ! — all  of  you  English  are  mad  when  the  moon  is  full, 
and  my  silly  girl  hath  caught  the  malady.  Lady,  your  hon- 
ored father  gave  me  a  charge,  which  I  purpose  to  execute  to 
the  best  for  all  parties,  and  you  cannot,  being  a  minor,  de- 
prive me  of  it  at  your  idle  pleasure.  Father  Aldrovand,  a 
monk  makes  no  lawful  arrests.  Daughter  Koschen,  hold 
your  peace  and  dry  your  eyes — you  are  a  fool." 

"  I  am — I  am,"  said  Kose,  drying  her  eyes  and  regaining 
her  elasticity  of  manner — "I  am  indeed  a  fool,  and  worse 
than  a  fool^  for  a  moment  to  doubt  my  father's  probity. 
Confide  in  him,  dearest  lady  ;  he  is  wise  though  he  is  grave, 
and  kind  though  he  is  i:)lain  and  homely  in  his  speech. 
Should  he  prove  false  he  will  fare  the  worse  !  for  I  will 
plunge  myself  from  the  pinnacle  of  the  Warder's  Tower  to 
the  bottom  of  the  moat,  and  he  shall  lose  his  own  daughter 
for  betraying  his  master's." 

''  This  is  all  frenzy,"  said  the  monk.  "  Who  trusts  avowed 
traitors  ?  Here,  Normans — English,  to  the  rescue  of  your 
liege  lady.     Bows  and  bills — bows  and  bills  ! " 

"You  may  spare  your  throat  for  your  next  homily,  good 
father,"  said  the  Netherlander  "  or  call  in  good  Flemish, 
since  you  understand  it,  for  to  no  other  language  will  those 
within  hearing  reply." 

He  then  approached  the  Lady  Eveline  with  a  real  or 
affected  air  of  clumsy  kindness,  and  something  as  nearly  ap- 
proaching to  courtesy  as  his  manners  and  features  could 
assume.  He  bade  her  good-night,  aud,  assuring  her  that  he 
would  act  for  the  best,  left  the  chapel.  The  monk  was  about 
to  break  forth  into  revilings,  but  Eveline,  with  more  pru- 
dence, checked  his  zeal. 

"  I  cannot,"  she  said,  "  but  hope  that  this  man's  inten- 
tions are  honest " 

"  Now,  God's  blessings  on  you,  lady,  for  that  very  word  !" 
said  Rose,  eagerly  interrupting  her,  and  kissing  her  hand. 

"  But  if  unhappily  they  are  doubtful,"  continued  Eveline, 


54  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  it  is  not  by  reproach  that  we  can  bring  him  to  a  better 
purpose.  Good  father,  give  an  eye  to  the  preparations  for 
resistance,  and  see  nought  omitted  that  our  means  furnish 
for  the  defense  of  the  castle." 

"  Fear  nothing,  my  dearest  daughter,"  said  Aldrovand  : 
"  there  are  still  some  English  hearts  amongst  us,  and  we  will 
rather  kill  and  eat  the  Flemings  themselves  than  surrender 
the  castle." 

"  That  were  food  as  dangerous  to  come  by  as  bear's  veni- 
son, father,"  answered  Rose,  bitterly,  still  on  fire  with  the 
idea  that  the  monk  treated  her  nation  with  suspicion  and 
contumely. 

On  these  terms  they  separated — the  women  to  indulge 
their  fears  and  sorrows  in  private  grief,  or  alleviate  them  by 
private  devotion  ;  the  monk  to  try  to  discover  what  were  the 
the  real  purposes  of  Wilkin  Flammock,  and  to  counteract 
them  if  possible,  should  they  seem  to  indicate  treachery. 
His  eye,  however,  though  sharpened  by  strong  suspicion, 
saw  nothing  to  strengthen  his  fears,  excepting  that  the  Flem- 
ing had,  with  considerable  military  skill,  placed  the  principal 
posts  of  the  castle  in  the  charge  of  his  own  countrymen,  which 
must  make  any  attempt  to  dispossess  him  of  his  present 
authority  both  difficult  and  dangerous.  The  monk  at  length 
retired,  summoned  by  the  duties  of  the  evening  service,  and 
with  the  determination  to  be  stirring  with  the  light  next 
morning. 


CHAPTER  VII 

O,  sadly  shines  the  morning  sun 

On  leaguer'd  castle  wall, 
When  bastion,  tower,  and  battlement. 

Seem  nodding  to  their  fall. 

Old  Ballad. 

True  to  his  resolution,  and  telling  his  beads  as  he  went,  that 
he  might  lose  no  time.  Father  Aldrovand  began  his  rounds 
in  the  castle  so  soon  as  daylight  had  touched  the  top  of  the 
eastern  horizon.  A  natural  instinct  led  him  first  to  those  stalls 
which,  had  the  fortress  been  properly  victualled  for  a  seige, 
ought  to  have  been  tenanted  by  cattle  ;  and  great  was  his 
delight  to  see  more  than  a  score  of  fat  kine  and  bullocks  in 
the  place  which  had  last  night  been  empty  !  One  of  them 
had  already  been  carried  to  the  shambles,  and  a  Fleming  or 
two,  who  played  butchers  on  the  occasion,  were  dividing  the 
carcass  for  the  cook's  use.  The  good  father  had  well-nigh 
cried  out,  "A  miracle  !"  but,  not  to  be  too  precipitate,  he 
limited  his  transport  to  a  private  exclamation  in  honor  of 
Our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse. 

"  Who  talks  of  lack  of  provender  ? — who  speaks  of  sur- 
render now  ?"' he  said.  ''Here  is  enough  to  maintain  us 
till  Hugo  de  Lacy  arrives,  were  he  to  sail  back  from  Cyprus 
to  our  relief.  I  did  purpose  to  have  fasted  this  morn- 
ing, as  well  to  save  victuals  as  on  a  religious  score  ;  but  the 
the  blessing  of  the  saints  must  not  be  slighted.  Sir  cook, 
let  me  have  half  a  yard*  or  so  of  broiled  beef  presently  ;  bid 
the  pan  tier  send  me  a  manchet,  and  the  butler  a  cup  of  wine. 
I  will  make  a  running  breakfast  on  the  western  battle^ 
ments." 

At  this  place,  which  was  rather  the  weakest  point  of  the 
Garde  Doloureuse,  the  good  father  found  Wilkin  Flammock 
anxiously  superintending  the  necessary  measures  of  defense. 
He  greeted  him  courteously,  congratulated  him  on  the  stock 
of  provisions  with  which  the  castle  had  been  supplied  during 
the  night,  and  was  inquiring  how  they  had  been  so  happily 
introduced  through  the  Welsh  beseigers,  when  Wilkin  took 
the  first  occasion  to  interrupt  him. 

*  See  Selling  Meat  by  Measure.    Note  6. 
66 


56  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

"  Of  all  this  another  time,  good  father ;  but  I  wish  at 
present,  and  before  other  discourse,  to  consult  thee  on  a 
matter  which  presses  my  conscience,  and  moreover,  deeply 
concsrns  my  worldly  estate/' 

''Speak  on,  my  excellent  son," said  the  father,  conceiving 
that  he  should  thus  gain  the  key  to  Wilkin's  real  intentions. 
•■'  0,  a  tender  conscience  is  a  jewel  !  and  he  that  will  not 
listen  when  it  saith,  "Pour  out  thy  doubts  into  the  ear  of 
the  priest,"  shall  one  day  have  his  own  dolorous  outcries 
choked  with  fire  and  brimstone.  Thou  wert  ever  of  a  ten- 
der conscience,  son  Wilkin,  though  thou  hast  but  a  rough 
and  borrel  bearing." 

"  Well  then,"  said  Wilkin,  "  you  are  to  know,  good  father, 
that  I  have  had  some  dealings  with  my  neighbor,  Jan  Van- 
welt,  concerning  my  daughter  Rose,  and  that  he  has  paid 
me   certain  guilders  on  condition  I  will  match  her  to  him." 

"  Pshaw — pshaw  !  my  good  son,"  said  the  disappointed 
confessor,  "  this  gear  can  lie  over  :  this  is  no  time  for  marry- 
ing or  giving  in  marriage,  when  we  are  all  like  to  be 
murdered." 

"  Nay,  but  hear  me,  good  father,"  said  the  Fleming,  "  for 
this  point  of  conscience  concerns  the  present  case  more 
nearly  than  you  wot  of.  You  must  know  I  have  no  will 
to  bestow  Rose  on  this  same  Jan  Vanwelt,  who  is  old  and 
of  ill  conditions  ;  and  I  would  know  of  you  whether  I  may, 
in  conscience,  refuse  him  my  consent  ?" 

"Truly,"  said  Father  Aldrovand,  "Rose  is  a  pretty  lass, 
though  somewhat  hasty;  and  I  think  you  may  honestly 
withdraw  your  consent,  always  on  paying  back  the  guilders 
you  have  received," 

"  But  there  lies  the  pinch,  good  father,"  said  the  Flem- 
ing :"  the  refunding  this  money  will  reduce  me  to  utter 
poverty.  The  Welsh  have  destroyed  my  substance  ;  and  this 
handful  of  money  is  all,  God  help  me  !  on  which  I  must 
begin  the  world  again." 

"Nevertheless,  son  Wilkin,"  said  Aldro  van  d,  "thou  must 
keep  thy  word,  or  pay  the  forfeit ;  for  Avhat  saith  the  text  ? 
Quis  liabitnhit  in  tahernacnlo,  quis  requiscet  in  monte 
sancfo?  Who  shall  ascend  to  the  tabernacle,  and  dwell  in 
the  holy  mountain  ?  Is  it  not  answered  again,  Qui  jurat 
proximo,  et  non  decipit  ?  Go  to,  my  son — break  not  thy 
plighted  word  for  a  little  filthy  lucre  ;  better  is  an  empty 
stomach  and  a  hungry  heart  with  a  clear  conscience  than  a 
fatted  ox  with  iniquity  and  word-breaking.  Sawest  thou 
not  our  late  noble  lord,  who — may  his  soul  be  happy  ! — chose 


THE  BETBOTBED  57 

rather  to  die  in  unequal  battle,  like  a  true  knight,  than  live 
a  perjured  man,  though  he  had  but  spoken  a  rash  word  to  a 
Welshman  over  a  wine-flask  ?" 

"Alas!  then,"  said  the  Fleming,  "this  is  even  what  1 
feared  !  We  must  e'en  render  up  the  castle,  or  restore  to 
the  Welshman,  Jorworth,  the  cattle,  hj  means  of  which 
I  had  schemed  to  victual  and  defend  it." 

^-^  How — wherefore — what  dost  thou  mean?'*  said  the 
monk  in  astonishment.  "I  speak  to  thee  af  Rose  Flam- 
mock  and  Jan  Van-devil,  or  whatever  you  call  him,  and 
you  reply  with  talk  about  cattle  and  castles,  and  I  wot 
not  what  ! " 

"So  please  you,  holy  father,  I  did  but  speak  in  para- 
bles. This  castle  was  the  daughter  I  had  promised  to 
deliver  over,  the  Welshman  is  Jan  Vanwelt,  and  the  guilders 
were  the  cattle  he  has  sent  in,  as  a  part-payment  before- 
hand of  my  guerdon." 

"  Parables  ! "  said  the  monk,  coloring  with  anger  at  the 
trick  put  on  him — "  what  has  a  boor  like  thee  to  do  with 
parables  ?     But  I  forgive  thee — I  forgive  thee." 

'*  I  am  therefore  to  yield  the  castle  to  the  Welshman, 
or  restore  him  his  cattle  ?  "  said  the  impenetrable  Dutchman. 

"  Sooner  yield  thy  soul  to  Satan  I "  replied  the  monk. 

"  I  fear  me  it  must  be  the  alternative,"  said  the  Fleming  ; 
**for  the  example  of  thy  honorable  lord " 

*'  The  example  of  an  honorable  fool,"  answered  the  monk  ; 
then  presently  subjoined,  "  Our  Lady  be  with  her  servant ! 
This  Belgic-brained  boor  makes  me  forget  what  I  would 
say." 

"Nay,  but  the  holy  text  which  your  reverence  cited  to 
me  even  now,"  continued  the  Fleming. 

"  Go  to,"  said  the  monk  ;  "what  hast  thou  to  do  to  pre- 
sume to  think  of  texts  ?  Knowest  thou  not  that  the  letter  of 
the  Scripture  slayeth,  and  that  it  is  the  exposition  which 
maketh  to  live  ?  Art  thou  not  like  one  who,  coming  to  a 
physician,  conceals  from  him  half  the  symptoms  of  the  dis- 
ease ?  I  tell  thee,  thou  foolish  Fleming,  the  text  speaketh 
but  of  promises  made  unto  Christians,  and  there  is  in  the 
rubric  a  special  exception  of  such  as  are  made  to  Welsh- 
men." At  this  commentary  the  Fleming  grinned  so  broadly 
as  to  show  his  whole  case  of  broad  strong  white  teeth. 
Father  Aldrovand  himself  grinned  in  sympathy,  and  then 
proceeded  to  say,  "  Come — come,  I  see  how  it  is.  Thou 
hast  studied  some  small  revenge  on  me  for  doubting  of  thy 
truth;  and,  in  verity,  I  think  thou  hast  taken  it  wittily 


68  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

enough.  But  wherefore  didst  thou  not  let  me  into  the  secret 
from  the  beginning  ?  I  promise  thee  1  had  foul  suspicions 
of  thee." 

"  What ! "  said  the  Fleming,  "  is  it  possible  I  could  ever 
think  of  involving  your  reverence  in  a  little  matter  of 
deceit  'f  Surely  Heaven  hath  sent  me  more  grace  and  man- 
ners.    Hark,  I  hear  Jorworth's  horn  at  the  gate." 

"  He  blows  like  a  town  swineherd,"  said  Aldrovand,  in 
disdain. 

''It  is  not  your  reverence's  pleasure  that  I  should  restore 
the  cattle  unto  him,  then  ?"  said  Flammock. 

''■  Yes,  thus  far.  Prithee  deliver  him  straightway  over 
the  walls  such  a  tub  of  boiling  water  as  shall  scald  the  hair 
from  his  goat-skin  cloak.  And,  hark  thee,  do  thou  in  the 
first  place  try  the  temperature  of  the  kettle  with  thy  fore- 
finger, and  that  shall  be  thy  penance  for  the  trick  thou  hast 
played  me." 

The  Fleming  answered  this  with  another  broad  grin  of 
intelligence,  and  they  proceeded  to  the  outer  gate,  to  which 
Jorworth  had  come  alone.  Placing  himself  at  the  wicket, 
which,  however,  he  kept  carefully  barred,  and  speaking 
til  rough  a  small  opening,  contrived  for  such  purpose,  Wilkin 
Flammock  demanded  of  the  Welshman  his  business. 

"  To  receive  rendition  of  the  castle,  agreeable  to  promise," 
said  Jorworth. 

"  Ay  ?  and  art  thou  come  on  such  an  errand  alone  ?  "  said 
Wilkin. 

"No,  truly,"  ansAvered  Jorworth  ;  "1  have  some  twoscore 
of  men  concealed  among  yonder  bushes." 

"  Then  thou  hadst  best  lead  them  away  quickly,"  answered 
Wilkin,  ''before  our  firchers  let  fly  a  sheaf  of  arrows  among 
them." 

"  How,  villain  !  Dost  thou  not  mean  to  keep  thy  prom- 
ise ?  said  the  Welshman. 

"  I  gave  thee  none,"  said  the  Fleming  ;  "I  promised  but 
to  think  on  what  thou  didst  say.  I  have  done  so,  and  have 
communicated  with  my  ghostly  father,  who  will  in  no 
respect  hear  of  my  listening  to  thy  proposal." 

"And  wilt  thou,"  said  Jorworth,  "keep  the  cattle,  which 
I  simply  sent  in  to  the  castle  on  the  faith  of  our  agreement  ?  " 

"  I  will  excommunicate  and  deliver  him  over  to  Satan," 
said  the  monk,  unable  to  wait  the  phlegmatic  and  lingering 
answer  of  the  Fleming,  "  if  he  give  horn,  hoof,  or  hair  of 
them  to  such  an  uncircumcised  Philistine  as  thou  or  thy 
master." 


THE  BETROTHED  59 

"Itis  well,  shorn  priest,"  answered  Jorworth,  in  great 
anger.  '*  But  mark  me — reckon  not  on  your  frock  for  ran- 
som. When  Gwenwyn  hath  taken  this  castle,  as  it  shall  not 
longer  shelter  such  a  pair  of  faithless  traitors,  I  will  have 
you  sewed  uj)  each  into  the  carcass  of  one  of  these  kine,  for 
which  your  penitent  has  forsworn  himself,  aud  lay  you  where 
wolf  and  eagle  shall  be  your  only  companions. ■'' 

"  Thou  wilt  work  thy  will  when  it  is  matched  with  thy 
power,"  said  the  sedate  Netherlander. 

''False  Welshman,  we  defy  thee  to  thy  teeth  ! "  answered, 
in  the  same  breath,  the  more  irascible  monk.  "  I  trust  to 
*ee  the  hounds  gnaw  thy  joints  ere  that  day  come  that  ye  talk 
bi  so  proudly." 

By  way  of  answer  to  both,  Jorworth  drew  back  his  arm 
with  his  leveled  javelin,  and  shaking  the  shaft  till  it  acquired 
A  vibratory  motion,  he  hurled  it  with  equal  strength  and 
dexterity  right  against  the  aperture  in  the  wicket.  It 
whizzed  through  tlie  opening  at  which  it  was  aimed,  and 
flew — harmlessly,  however — between  the  heads  of  the  monk 
and  the  Fleming  ;  the  former  of  whom  started  back,  while 
the  latter  only  said,  as  he  looked  at  the  javelin,  which  stood 
quivering  in  the  door  of  the  guard-room,  *'  That  was  well 
aimed,  and  happily  balked." 

Jorworth,  the  instant  he  had  flung  his  dart,  hastened  to 
the  ambush  which  he  had  prepared,  and  gave  them  at  once 
the  signal  and  the  example  of  a  rapid  retreat  down  the  hill. 
Father  Aldrovand  would  willingly  have  followed  them  with 
a  volley  of  arrows,  but  the  Fleming  observed  that  ammuni- 
tion was  too  precious  with  them  to  be  wasted  on  a  few 
runaways.  Perhaps  the  honest  man  remembered  that  they 
had  come  within  the  danger  of  such  a  salutation,  in  some 
measure,  on  his  own  assurance. 

When  the  noise  of  the  hasty  retreat  of  Jorworth  and  his 
followers  had  died  away,  there  ensued  a  dead  silence,  well 
corresponding  with  the  coolness  and  calmness  of  that  early 
hour  in  the  morning. 

"  This  will  not  last  long,"  said  Wilkin  to  the  monk,  in  a 
tone  of  foreboding  seriousness,  which  found  an  echo  in  the 
good  father's  bosom. 

"  It  will  not,  and  it  cannot,"  answered  Aldrovand  ;  ''and 
we  must  expect  a  shrewd  attack,  which  I  should  mind  little, 
but  that  their  numbers  are  great,  ours  few,  the  extent  of 
the  walls  considerable,  and  the  obstinacy  of  these  Welsh 
fiends  almost  equal  to  their  fury.  But  we  will  do  the  best. 
I  will  to  the  Lady  Eveline.     She  must  show  herself  upon 


60  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  battlements.  She  is  fairer  in  feature  than  becometh  a 
man  of  my  order  to  speak  of  ;  and  she  has  withal  a  breathing 
of  her  father's  lofty  spirit.  The  look  and  the  word  of  such 
a  lady  will  give  a  man  double  strength  in  the  hour  of  need." 
*''  It  may  be,"  said  the  Fleming  ;  *'  and  I  will  go  see  that 
the  good  breakfast  which  I  have  appointed  be  presently 
served  forth  ;  it  will  give  my  Flemings  more  strength  than 
the  sight  of  the  ten  thousand  virgins— may  their  help  be 
with  us  I — were  they  all  arranged  on  a  fair  field." 


CHAPTEE  VIII 

Twas  when  ye  raised,  'mid  sap  and  siege. 
The  banner  of  your  rightful  liege 

At  your  she  captain's  call, 
Who,  miracle  of  womankind. 
Lent  mettle  to  the  meanest  hind 

That  niann'd  her  castle  wall. 

William  Stewart  Rose. 

The  morning  light  was  scarce  fully  spread  abroad  when 
Eveline  Berenger,  in  compliance  with  her  confessor's  advice, 
commenced  her  progress  around  the  walls  and  battlements 
of  the  beleaguered  castle,  to  confirm  by  her  personal  en- 
treaties the  minds  of  the  valiant,  and  to  rouse  the  more 
timid  to  hope  and  to  exertion.  She  wore  a  rich  collar  and 
bracelets,  as  ornaments  which  indicated  her  rank  and  high 
descent ;  and  her  under  tunic,  in  the  manner  of  the  times, 
was  gathered  around  her  slender  waist  by  a  girdle,  embroid- 
ered with  precious  stones,  and  secured  by  a  large  buckle  of 
gold.  From  one  side  of  the  girdle  was  suspended  a  pouch  or 
purse,  splendidly  adorned  with  needlework,  and  on  the  left 
side  it  sustained  a  small  dagger  of  exquisite  workmanship. 
A  dark-colored  mantle,  chosen  as  emblematic  of  her  clouded 
fortunes,  was  flung  loosely  around  her  ;  and  its  hood  was 
brought  forward  so  as  to  shadow,  but  not  hide,  her  beauti- 
ful countenance.  Her  looks  had  lost  the  high  and  ecstatic 
expression  which  had  been  inspired  by  supposed  revelation, 
but  they  retained  a  sorrowful  and  mild,  yet  determined, 
character  ;  and,  in  addressing  the  soldiers,  she  used  a  mix- 
ture of  entreaty  and  command — now  throwing  herself  upon 
their  protection,  now  demanding  in  her  aid  the  just  tribute 
of  their  allegiance. 

The  garrison  was  divided,  as  military  skill  dictated,  in 
groups,  on  the  points  most  liable  to  attack,  or  from  which  an 
assailing  enemy  might  be  best  annoyed  ;  and  it  was  this  un- 
avoidable separation  of  their  force  into  small  detachments 
which  showed  to  disadvantage  the  extent  of  walls,  compared 
with  the  number  of  the  defenders ;  and  though  AYilkin 
Flammock  had  contrived  several  means  of  concealing  this 
deficiency  of  force  from  the  enemy,  he  could  not  disguise  it 
from  the  defenders  of  the  castle,  who  cast  mournful  glances 


62  yTA  VEBL EY  NO  VEL S 

ou  the  length  of  battlements  wliich  were  unoccupied  save 
by  sentinels,  and  then  looked  out  to  the  fatal  field  of  battle, 
loaded  with  the  bodies  of  those  who  ought  to  have  been 
their  comrades  in  this  hour  of  peril. 

The  presence  of  Eveline  did  much  to  rouse  the  garrison 
from  this  state  of  discouragement.  She  glided  from  post  to 
post,  from  tower  to  tower  of  the  old  gray  fortress,  as  a  gleam 
of  light  passes  over  a  clouded  landscape,  and,  touching  its 
various  points  in  succession,  calls  them  out  to  beauty  and 
effect.  Sorrow  and  fear  sometimes  makes  sufferers  elo- 
quent. She  addressed  the  various  nations  who  composed 
her  little  garrison,  each  in  appropriate  language.  To  the 
English,  she  spoke  as  children  of  the  soil  ;  to  the  Flemings, 
as  men  who  had  become  denizens  by  the  rightof  hospitality  ; 
to  the  Normaus,  as  descendants  of  that  victorious  race  whose 
swords  had  made  them  the  nobles  and  sovereigns  of  every 
land  where  its  edge  had  been  tried.  To  them  she  used  th 
language  of  chivalry,  by  whose  rules  the  meanest  of  that 
nation  regulated,  or  affected  to  regulate,  his  actions  ;  the 
English  she  reminded  of  their  good  faith  and  honesty  of 
heart  ;  and  to  the  Flemings  she  spoke  of  the  destruction  of 
their  property,  the  fruits  of  their  honest  industry.  To  all 
she  proposed  vengeance  for  the  death  of  their  leader  and 
his  followers  ;  to  all  she  recommended  confidence  in  God 
and  Our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  ;  and  she  ventured 
to  assure  all  of  the  strong  and  victorious  bands  that  were 
already  in  march  to  their  relief. 

•'  Will  the  gallant  champions  of  the  cross,''  she  said, 
"  think  of  leaving  their  native  land,  while  the  w^ail  of  women 
and  of  orphans  is  in  their  ears  ?  It  were  to  convert  their 
pious  purpose  into  mortal  sin,  and  to  derogate  from  the 
high  fame  they  have  so  well  won.  Yes,  fight  but  valiantly, 
and  perhaps,  before  the  very  sun  that  is  now  slowly  rising 
shall  sink  in  the  sea,  yon  will  see  it  shining  on  the  ranks  of 
Shrewsbury  and  Chester.  When  did  the  Welshman  wait  to 
hear  the  clangor  of  their  trumpets  or  the  rustling  of  their 
silken  banners  ?  Fight  bravely — fight  freely  but  a  while. 
Our  castle  is  strong — our  munition  ample— your  hearts 
are  good — your  arms  are  powerful.  God  is  nigh  to  us,  and 
our  friends  are  not  far  distant.  Fight,  then*  in  the  name  of 
all  that  is  good  and  holy — fight  for  yourselves,  for  your 
wives,  for  your  children,  and  for  your  property  ;  and  oh  ! 
fight  for  an  orphan  maiden,  who  hath  no  other  defenders 
but  what  a  sense  of  her  sorrows,  and  the  remembrance  of 
her  father,  may  raise  up  among  you  1 " 


THE  BETROTHED  68 

Such  speeches  as  these  made  a  powerful  impression  on  the 
men  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  already  hardened,  by 
habits  and  sentiments,  against  a  sense  of  danger.  The 
chivalrous  Normans  swore,  on  the  cross  of  their  swords,  they 
would  die  to  a  man  ere  they  would  surrender  their  posts  ; 
the  blunter  Anglo-Saxons  cried,  ''Shame  on  him  who  would 
render  up  such  a  lamb  as  Eveline  to  a  Welsh  wolf,  while  he 
could  make  her  a  bulwark  with  his  body  ! "  Even  the  cold 
Flemings  caught  a  spark  of  the  enthusiasm  with  which  the 
others  were  animated,  and  muttered  to  each  other  praists  of 
the  young  lady's  beauty,  and  short  but  honest  resolves  to  do 
the  best  they  might  in  her  defense. 

Rose  Flammock,  who  accompanied  her  lady  with  one  or 
two  attendants  upon  her  circuit  around  the  castle,  seemed  to 
have  relapsed  into  her  natural  character  of  a  shy  and  timid 
girl,  out  of  the  excited  state  into  which  she  had  been 
brought  by  the  suspicions  which  in  the  evening  before  had 
attached  to  her  father's  character.  She  tripped  closely  but 
respectfully  iifter  Eveline,  and  listened  to  what  she  said 
from  time  to  time,  with  the  awe  and  admiration  of  a  child 
listening  to  its  tutor,  while  only  her  moistened  eye  expressed 
how  far  she  felt  or  comprehended  the  extent  of  the  danger, 
or  the  force  of  the  exhortations.  There  was,  however,  a 
moment  when  the  youthful  maiden's  eye  became  more 
bright,  her  step  more  confident,  her  looks  more  elevated. 
This  was  when  they  approached  the  spot  where  her  father, 
having  discharged  the  duties  of  commander  of  the  garrison, 
was  now  exercising  those  of  engineer,  and  displaying  great 
skill,  as  well  as  wonderful  personal  strength,  in  directing 
and  assisting  the  establishment  of  a  large  mangonel  (a  mili- 
tary engine  used  for  casting  stones)  upon  a  station  com- 
manding an  exposed  postern-gate,  which  led  from  the 
western  side  of  the  castle  down  to  the  plain  ;  and  where  a 
severe  assault  Avas  naturally  to  be  expected.  The  greater 
part  of  his  armor  lay  beside  him,  but  covered  with  his  cas- 
sock to  screen  it  from  the  morning  dew  ;  while  in  his 
leathern  doublet,  with  arms  bare  to  the  shoulder,  and  a 
huge  sledge-hammer  in  his  hand,  he  set  an  example  to  the 
mechanics  who  worked  under  his  direction. 

In  slow  and  solid  natures  there  is  usually  a  touch  of 
shamefacedness,  and  a  sensitiveness  to  the  breach  of  petty 
observances.  Wilkin  Flammock  had  been  unmoved  even  to 
insensibility  at  the  imputation  of  treason  so  lately  cast  upon 
him  ;  but  he  colored  high,  and  was  confused,  while,  hastily 
throwing  on  his  cassock,  he  endeavored  to  conceal  the  dis- 


U  IVAP^EliLEY  NOVELS 

habille  in  which  he  had  been  surprised  by  the  Lady  Eveline. 
Not  so  his  daughter.  Proud  of  her  father's  zeal,  her  eye 
gleamed  from  him  to  her  mistress  with  a  look  of  triumph, 
which  seemed  to  say,  "  Aud  this  faithful  follower  is  he  who 
was  suspected  of  treachery  ! " 

Eveliue's  ovvu  bosom  made  her  the  same  reproach  ;  and, 
anxious  to  atone  for  her  momentary  doubt  of  his  fidelity, 
she  offered  for  his  acceptance  a  ring  of  value,  "  In  small 
amends,"  she  said,  "  of  a  momentary  misconstruction." 

"  It  needs  not,  lady,"  said  Flammock,  with  his  usual 
bluntness,  '^unless  I  have  the  freedom  to  bestow  the  gaud 
on  Rose  ;  for  I  think  she  was  grieved  enough  at  that  which 
moved  me  little — as  why  should  it  ?" 

"Dispose  of  it  as  thou  wilt,"  said  Eveline,  "the  stone  it 
bears  is  as  true  as  thine  own  faith." 

Here  Eveline  paused,  and  looking  on  the  broad  expanded 
plain  which  extended  between  the  site  of  the  castle  and  the 
river,  observed  how  silent  and  still  the  morning  was  rising 
over  what  had  so  lately  been  a  scene  of  such  extensive 
slaughter. 

"  It  Avill  not  be  so  long,"  answered  Elammock  :  "  we  shall 
have  noise  enough,  and  that  nearer  to  our  ears  than  yester- 
day." 

"Which  way  lie  the  enemy  ?"  said  Eveline  ;  "methinks 
I  can  spy  neither  tents  or  pavilions." 

"  They  use  none,  lady,"  answered  Wilkin  Elammock. 
"Heaven  has  denied  them  the  grace  and  knowledge  to  weave 
linen  enough  for  such  a  purpose.  Yonder  they  lie  on  both 
sides  of  the  river,  covered  with  naught  but  their  white  man- 
tles. Would  one  think  that  a  host  of  thieves  and  cut-throats 
could  look  so  like  the  finest  object  in  nature — a  well-spread 
bleaching-field  ?  Hark — hark  '!  the  wasps  are  beginning  to 
buzz  ;  they  will  soon  be  plying  their  stings." 

In  fact,  there  was  heard  among  the  Welsh  army  a  low  and 
indistinct  murmur,  like  that  of 

Bees  alarm'd,  and  mvistering  in  their  hives. 

Terrified  at  the  hollow  menacing  sound,  which  grew  louder 
every  moment.  Rose,  who  had  all  the  in  itability  of  a  sensitive 
temperament,  clung  to  her  father's  arm,  saying,  in  a  terrified 
whisper,  "It  is  like  the  sound  of  the  scathe  night  before 
the  great  inundation." 

"  And  it  betokens  too  rough  weather  for  women  to  be 
abroad  in,"  said  Elammock.     ^'  Go  to  your  chamber.  Lady 


THE  BETROTHED  65 

Eveline,  if  it  be  your  will  ;  and  go  you  too,  Eoschen.  God 
bless  you  both,  ye  do  but  keep  us  idle  here." 

And,  indeed,  conscious  that  she  had  done  all  that  was  in- 
cumbent upon  her,  and  fearful  lest  the  chill  which  she  felt 
creeping  over  her  own  heart  should  infect  others,  Eveline 
took  her  vassal's  advice,  and  withdrew  slowly  to  her  own 
apartment,  often  casting  back  her  eye  to  the  place  where  the 
Welsh,  now  drawn  out  and  under  arms,  were  advancing  their 
ridgy  battalions,  like  the  waves  of  an  approaching  tide. 

The  Prince  of  Powys  had,  with  considerable  military  skill, 
adopted  a  plan  of  attack  suitable  to  the  fiery  genius  of  his 
followers,  and  calculated  to  alarm  on  every  point  the  feeble 
garrison. 

The  three  sides  of  the  castle  which  were  defended  by  the 
river  were  watched  each  by  a  numerous  body  of  the  British, 
with  instructions  to  confine  themselves  to  the  discharge  of 
arrows,  unless  they  should  observe  that  some  favorable  oppor- 
tunity of  close  attack  should  occur.  But  far  the  greater 
part  of  Gwenwyn's  forces,  consisting  of  three  columns  of 
great  strength,  advanced  along  the  plain  on  the  western  side 
of  the  castle,  and  menaced,  with  a  desperate  assault,  the 
walls,  which,  in  that  direction,  were  deprived  of  the  defense 
of  the  river.  The  first  of  these  formidable  bodies  consisted 
entirely  of  archers,  who  dispersed  themselves  in  front  of  the 
beleaguered  place,  and  took  advantage  of  every  bush  and  rising 
ground  which  could  afford  them  shelter  ;  and  then  began  to 
bend  their  bows  and  shower  their  arrows  on  the  battlements 
and  loopholes,  suffering,  however,  a  great  deal  more  damage 
than  they  were  able  to  inflict,  as  the  garrison  returned  their 
shot  in  comparative  safety,  and  with  more  secure  and  de- 
liberate aim.*  Under  cover,  however,  of  their  discharge  of 
arrows,  two  very  strong  bodies  of  Welsh  attempted  to  carry 
the  outer  defenses  of  the  castle  by  storm.  They  had  axes 
to  destroy  the  palisades,  then  called  barriers  ;  fagots  to  fill 
up  the  external  ditches  ;  torches  to  set  fire  to  aught  com- 
bustible which  they  might  find ;  and,  above  all,  ladders  to 
scale  the  walls. 

These  detachments  rushed  with  incredible  fury  towards  the 
point  of  attack,  despite  a  most  obstinate  defense,  and  the  great 
loss  which  they  sustained  by  missiles  of  every  kind,  and  con- 
tinued the  assault  for  nearly  an  hour,  supplied  by  reinforce- 
ments which  more  than  recruited  their  diminished  numbers. 
When  they  were  at  last  compelled  to  retreat,  they  seemed  to 

*  See  Welsh  Bowman.    Note  7. 


66  WAVERLEi'  NOVELS. 

adopt  a  new  and  yet  more  harassing  species  of  attack.  A 
large  body  assaulted  one  exposed  point  of  the  fortress  with 
such  fury  as  to  draw  thither  as  many  of  the  beseiged  as  could 
possibly  be  spared  from  other  defended  posts,  and  when  there 
appeared  a  point  less  strongly  manned  than  was  adequate  to 
defence,  that,  in  its  turn,  was  furiously  assailed  by  a  separate 
body  of  the  enemy. 

Thus  the  defenders  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  resembled  the 
embarrassed  traveler  engaged  in  repelling  a  swarm  of  hornets, 
which,  while  he  brushes  them  from  one  part,  fix  in  swarms 
upon  another,  and  drive  him  to  despair  by  their  numbers 
and  the  boldness  and  multiplicity  of  their  attacks.  The 
postern  being,  of  course,  a  principal  point  of  attack,  Father 
Aldrovand,  whoso  anxiety  would  not  permit  him  to  be  absent 
from  the  walls,  and  who,  indeed,  where  decency  would  permit, 
took  an  occasional  share  in  the  active  defense  of  the  place, 
hasted  thither,  as  the  point  chiefly  in  danger. 

Here  he  found  the  Fleming,  like  a  second  Ajax,  grim  with 
dust  and  blood,  working  with  his  own  hands  the  great  engine 
which  he  had  lately  helped  to  erect,  and  at  the  same  time 
giving  heedful  eye  to  all  the  exigencies  around. 

"  How  thinkest  thou  of  this  day's  work  ?"  said  the  monk 
in  a  whisper. 

"  What  skills  it  talking  of  it,  father  ?  "  replied  Flammock  ; 
"  thou  art  no  soldier,  and  I  have  no  time  for  words. '^ 

"  Nay,  take  thy  breatli,"  said  the  monk,  tucking  up  the 
sleeves  of  his  frock  ;  "I  will  try  to  help  thee  the  whilst, 
although,  Our  Lady  pity  me,  1  know  nothing  of  these  strange 
devices,  not  even  the  names.  But  our  rule  commands  us  to 
labor ;  there  can  be  no  harm,  therefore,  in  turning  this 
winch,  or  in  placing  this  steel-headed  piece  of  wood  opposite 
to  the  cord  (suiting  his  action  to  his  words),  nor  see  I  aught 
uncanonical  in  adjusting  the  lever  thus,  or  in  touching  the 
spring." 

The  large  bolt  whizzed  through  the  air  as  he  spoke,  and 
was  so  successfully  aimed,  that  it  struck  down  a  Welsh  chief 
of  eminence,  to  whom  Gwenwyn  himself  was  in  the  act  of 
giving  some  important  charge. 

"  Well  driven,  trebuchet — well  flown,  quarrel  !"  cried  the 
monk,  unable  to  contain  his  delight,  and  giving,  in  his  tri- 
umph, the  true  technical  names  to  the  engine  and  the 
javelin  which  it  discharged. 

''And  well  aimed,  monk,"  added  Wilkin  Flammock  :  "  I 
think  thou  knowest  more  than  is  in  thy  breviary." 

"  Care  not  thou  for  that,"  said   the  father ;  "  and  now 


THE  BETROTFIED  67 

that  thou  seest  I  can  work  an  engine,  and  that  the  Welsh 
knaves  seem  something  low  in  stomach,  what  think'st  thou 
of  our  estate  ?" 

"  Well  enough,  for  a  bad  one,  if  we  may  hope  for  speedy 
succor ;  but  men's  bodies  are  of  flesh,  not  of  iron,  and  we 
may  be  at  last  wearied  out  by  numbers.  Only  one  soldier 
to  four  yards  of  wall  is  a  fearful  odds  ;  and  the  villaina 
are  aware  of  it,  and  keep  us  to  sharp  work/' 

The  renewal  of  the  assault  here  broke  off  their  conver- 
sation, nor  did  the  active  enemy  permit  them  to  erjoy 
much  repose  until  sunset ;  for,  alarming  them  with  repeated 
menaces  of  attack  upon  different  points,  besides  making 
two  or  three  formidable  and  furious  assaults,  they  left 
them  scarce  time  to  breathe,  or  to  take  a  moment's  refresh- 
ment. Yet  the  Welsh  paid  a  severe  price  for  tlieir  temerity  ; 
for  while  nothing  could  exceed  the  bravery  with  which  their 
men  repeatedly  advanced  to  the  attack,  those  which  were 
made  latest  in  the  day  had  less  of  animated  desperation  than 
their  first  onset ;  and  it  is  probable  that  the  sense  of  having 
sustained  great  loss,  and  apprehension  of  its  effects  on  the 
spirits  of  his  people,  made  nightfall,  and  the  interruption 
of  the  contest,  as  acceptable  to  Gwenwyn  as  to  the  exhausted 
garrison  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse. 

But  in  the  camp  or  leaguer  of  the  Welsh  there  was  glee 
and  triumph,  for  the  loss  of  the  past  day  was  forgotten  in 
recollection  of  the  signal  victory  which  had  preceded  this 
siege  ;  and  the  dispirited  garrison  could  hear  from  their 
walls  the  laugh  and  the  song,  the  sound  of  harping  and 
gaiety,  which  triumphed  by  anticipation  over  their  surrender. 

The  sun  was  for  some  time  sunk,  the  twilight  deepened, 
and  night  closed  with  a  blue  and  cloudless  sky,  in  which 
the  thousand  spangles  that  deck  the  firmament  received 
double  brilliancy  from  some  slight  touch  of  frost,  although 
the  paler  planet,  their  mistress,  was  but  in  her  first  quarter. 
The  necessities  of  the  garrison  were  considerably  aggravated 
by  that  of  keeping  a  very  strong  and  watchful  guard,  ill 
according  with  the  weakness  of  their  numbers,  at  a  time 
which  appeared  favorable  to  any  sudden  nocturnal  alarm  ; 
and,  so  urgent  was  this  duty,  that  those  who  had  been  more 
slightly  wounded  on  the  preceding  day  were  obliged  to  take 
their  share  in  it,  notwithstanding  their  hurts.  The  monk 
and  Fleming,  who  now  perfectly  understood  each  other, 
went  in  company  around  the  walls  at  midnight,  exhorting 
the  warders  to  be  watchful,  and  examining  with  their  own 
eyea  the  state  of  the  fortress.     It  was  in  the  course  of  these 


68  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

rounds,  and  as  they  were  ascending  an  elevated  platform  by 
a  range  of  narrow  and  uneven  steps,  something  galling  to 
the  monk's  tread,  that  they  perceived  on  the  summit  to 
which  they  were  ascending,  instead  of  the  black  corslet  of 
the  Flemish  sentinel  who  had  been  jalaced  there,  two  white 
forms,  the  appearance  of  which  struck  Wilkin  Flammock 
with  more  dismay  than  he  had  shown  during  any  of  the 
doubtful  events  of  the  preceding  day's  fight. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  betake  yourself  to  your  tools  ;  es 
spucht — there  are  hobgoblins  here  \" 

The  good  father  had  not  learned,  as  a  priest,  to  defy  the 
spiritual  host,  whom,  as  a  soldier,  he  had  dreaded  more  than 
any  mortal  enemy ;  but  he  began  to  recite,  with  chattering 
teeth,  the  exorcism  of  the  church,  "  Conjouro  vos  omnes, 
spiritus  maligni,  magni  atque  parvi,"  when  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  tlie  voice  of  Eveline,  who  called  out,  '"  Is  it  you. 
Father  Aldrovand  ?  " 

Much  lightened  at  heart  by  finding  they  had  no  ghost  to 
deal  with,  Wilkin  Flammock  and  the  priest  advanced  hastily 
to  the  platform,  where  they  found  the  lady  with  her  faithful 
Kose,  the  former  with  a  half  pike  in  her  hand,  like  a  sentinel 
on  duty. 

"How  is  this,  daughter  ? "  said  the  monk — ''how  came 
you  here,  and  thus  armed  ?  And  where  is  the  sentinel — the 
lazy  Flemish  hound  that  should  have  kept  the  post  ?  " 

"  May  he  not  be  a  lazy  hound,  yet  not  a  Flemish  one, 
father  ? "  said  Eose,  who  was  ever  awakened  by  anything 
which  seemed  a  reflection  upon  her  country  ;  ''methinks  I 
have  heard  of  such  curs  of  English  breed." 

"  Go  to.  Rose,  you  are  too  malapert  for  a  young  maiden," 
said  her  father.  "  Once  more,  where  is  Peterkin  Vorst,  who 
should  have  kept  this  post  ?" 

"  Let  him  not  be  blamed  for  my  fault,"  said  Eveline,  point- 
ing to  a  place  where  the  Flemish  sentinel  lay  in  the  shade  of 
the  battlement  fast  asleep.  "  He  was  overcome  with  toil,  had 
fought  hard  through  the  day,  and  when  I  saw  him  asleep  as 
I  came  hither,  like  a  wandering  spirit  that  cannot  take 
slumber  or  repose,  I  would  not  disturb  the  rest  which  I 
envied.  As  he  had  fought  for  me,  I  miglit,  I  thought,  watch 
an  hour  for  him  ;  so  I  took  his  weapon  with  the  purpose  of 
remaining  here  till  some  one  should  come  to  relieve  him." 

"I  will  relieve  the  schelm,  with  a  vengeance!"  said 
Wilkin  Flammock,  and  saluted  the  slumbering  and  prostrate 
warder  with  two  kicks  which  made  his  corslet  clatter.  The 
man  started  to  his  feet  iu  no  small  alarm,  which  he  would 


THE  BETROTHED  CD 

have  communicated  to  the  next  sentinels  and  to  the  whole 
garrison,  by  crying  out  that  the  Welsh  were  upon  the  walls, 
had  not  the  monk  covered  his  broad  mouth  with  his  hand 
just  as  the  roar  was  issuing  forth.  "  Peace,  and  get  thee 
down  to  the  under  bailey/'  said  he  ;  ''thou  deservest  death, 
by  all  the  policies  of  war  ;  but,  look  ye,  varlet,  and  see  who 
has  saved  your  worthless  neck,  by  watching  while  you  were 
dreaming  of  swine's  flesh  and  beer-pots." 

The  Fleming,  although  as  yet  but  half  awake,  was  suffi- 
ciently conscious  of  his  situation  to  sneak  off  without  reply, 
after  two  or  three  awkward  congees,  as  well  to  Eveline  as 
to  those  by  whom  his  repose  had  been  so  unceremoniously 
interrupted. 

"  He  deserves  to  be  tied  neck  and  heel,  the  houndsfoot," 
said  Wilkin.  ''But  what  would  you  have,  lady?"  My 
countrymen  cannot  live  without  rest  or  sleep."  So  saying, 
he  gave  a  yawn  so  wide  as  if  he  had  proposed  to  swallow  one 
of  the  turrets  at  an  angle  of  the  platform  on  which  he  stood, 
as  if  it  had  only  garnished  a  Christmas  pasty. 

"True,  good  Wilkin,"  said  Eveline  ;  "and  do  you  there- 
fore take  some  rest,  and  trust  to  my  watchfulness,  at  least 
till  the  guards  are  relieved.  I  cannot  sleep  if  I  would,  and 
I  would  not  if  I  could." 

"  Thanks,  lady,"  said  Flammock  ;  "and  in  truth,  as  this 
is  a  centrical  place,  and  the  rounds  must  pass  in  an  hour  at 
farthest,  I  will  e'en  close  my  eyes  for  such  a  space,  for  the 
lids  feel  as  heavy  as  flood-gates." 

"  0,  father — father  !  "  exclaimed  Eose,  alive  to  her  sire's 
unceremonious  neglect  of  decorum,  "think  where  you  are, 
and  in  whose  presence  \ " 

"  Ay — ay,  good  Flammock,"  said  the  monk,  "  remember 
the  presence  of  a  noble  ISTorman  maiden  is  no  place  for  fold- 
ing of  cloaks  and  donning  of  nightcaps." 

"  Let  him  alone,  father,"  said  Eveline,  who  in  another 
moment  might  have  smiled  at  the  readiness  with  which 
Wilkin  Flammock  folded  himself  in  his  huge  cloak,  extended 
his  substantial  form  on  the  stone  bench,  and  gave  the  most 
decided  tokens  of  profound  repose,  long  ere  the  monk  had 
done  speaking.  "Forms  and  fashions  of  respect,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  are  for  times  of  ease  and  nicety  ;  when  in  danger, 
the  soldier's  bedchamber  is  wherever  he  can  find  leisure  for 
an  hour's  sleep  ;  his  eating-hall,  wherever  he  can  obtain 
food.  Sit  thou  down  by  Rose  and  me,  good  father,  and  tell 
ns  of  some  holy  lesson,  which  may  pass  away  these  hours  of 
weariness  and  calamity." 


70  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  father  obeyed  ;  but,  however  willing  to  afford  con- 
solation, his  ingenuity  and  theological  skill  suggested  noth- 
ing better  than  a  recitation  of  the  penitentiary  psalms,  in 
which  task  he  continued  until  fatigue  became  too  powerful 
for  hira  also,  when  he  committed  the  same  breach  of  de- 
corum for  which  he  had  upbraided  Wilkin  Flammock,  and 
fell  fast  asleep  in  the  midst  of  his  devotions. 


CHAPTER  IX 

**  O  night  of  woe,"  she  said  and  wept, 

"  O  night  foreboding  sorrow  I 
O  night  of  woe,"  she  said  and  wept, 

"  But  more  I  dread  the  morrow  ! " 

Sir  Gilbert  Elliot. 

The  fatigue  which  had  exhausted  Flammock  and  the  monk 
was  nnfelt  by  the  two  anxious  maidens,  who  remained  with 
their  eyes  bent,  now  upon  the  dim  landscape,  now  on  the 
stars  by  which  it  was  lighted,  as  if  they  could  have  read 
there  the  events  which  the  morrow  was  to  bring  forth.  It 
was  a  placid  and  melancholy  scene.  Tree  and  field,  and 
hill  and  plain,  lay  before  them  in  doubtful  light,  while,  at 
greater  distance,  their  eye  could  with  difficulty  trace  one  or 
two  places  where  the  river,  hidden  in  general  by  banks  and 
trees,  spread  its  more  expanded  bosom  to  the  stars  and  the 
pale  crescent.  All  was  still,  excepting  tlie  solemn  rush  of 
the  waters,  and  now  and  then  the  shrill  tinkle  of  a  harp, 
which,  heard  from  more  than  a  mile's  distance  through  the 
midnight  silence,  announced  that  some  of  the  Welshmen 
still  protracted  their  most  beloved  amusement.  The  vild 
notes,  partially  heard,  seemed  like  the  voice  of  some  passing 
spirit ;  and,  connected  as  they  were  with  ideas  of  fierce  and 
unrelenting  hostility,  thrilled  on  Eveline's  ear,  as  if  pro- 
phetic of  war  and  woe,  captivity  and  death.  The  only  other 
sounds  which  disturbed  the  extreme  stillness  of  the  night 
were  the  occasional  step  of  a  sentinel  upon  his  post,  or  the 
hooting  of  the  owls,  which  seemed  to  wail  the  approaching 
downfall  of  the  moonlight  turrets  in  which  they  had  estab- 
lished their  ancient  habitations. 

The  calmness  of  all  around  seemed  to  press  like  a  weight 
on  the  bosom  of  the  unhappy  Eveline,  and  brought  to  her 
mind  a  deeper  sense  of  present  grief,  and  keener  apprehen- 
sion of  future  horrors,  than  had  reigned  there  during  the 
bustle,  blood,  and  confusion  of  the  preceding  day.  She 
rose  up,  she  sat  down,  she  moved  to  and  fro  on  the  plat- 
form, she  remained  fixed  like  a  statue  to  asingle  spot,  as  if 
she  were  trying  by  variety  of  posture  to  divert  her  internal 
sense  of  fear  and  sorrow. 

At  length,  looking  at  the  monk  and  the  Fleming  as  they 
71 


12  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

slept  soundly  under  the  shade  of  the  battlement,  she  could 
no  longer  forbear  breaking  silence.  "Men  are  happy /^  she 
said,  "  my  Beloved  Eose  :  their  anxious  thoughts  are  either 
diverted  by  toilsome  exertion  or  drowned  in  the  insensibility 
which  follows  it.  They  may  encounter  wounds  and  death, 
but  it  is  we  who  feel  in  the  spirit  a  more  keen  anguish 
than  the  body  knows,  and  in  the  gnawing  sense  of  present 
ill  and  fear  of  future  misery  suffer  a  living  death,  more 
cruel  than  that  which  ends  our  woes  at  once." 

"Do  not  be  thus  downcast,  my  noble  lady,"  saia  Rose; 
"  be  rather  what  you  were  yesterday,  caring  for  the  wounded, 
for  the  aged,  for  every  one  but  yourself,  exposing  even  your 
dear  life  among  the  showers  of  the  Welsh  arrows,  when  do- 
ing so  could  give  courage  to  others  ;  while  I — shame  on  me  ! 
— could  but  tremble,  soId,  and  weep,  and  needed  all  the  little 
wit  I  have  to  prevent  my  shouting  with  the  wild  cries  of  the 
Welsh,  or  screaming  and  groaning  with  those  of  our  friends 
who  fell  around  me." 

"  Alas  !  Eose,"  answered  her  mistress,  "you  may  at  pleas- 
ure indulge  your  fears  to  the  verge  of  distraction  itself  ;  you 
have  a  father  to  fight  and  watch  for  you.  Mine — my  kind, 
noble,  and  honored  parent — lies  dead  on  yonder  field,  and 
all  which  remains  for  me  is  to  act  as  may  best  become  his 
memory.  But  this  moment  is  at  least  mine,  to  think  upon 
and  to  mourn  for  him." 

So  saying,  and  overpowered  by  the  long-repressed  burst  of 
filial  sorrow,  she  sunk  down  on  the  banquette  which  ran 
along  the  inside  of  the  embattled  parajjet  of  the  platform, 
and  murmuring  to  herself,  "  He  is  gone  forever  ! "  aban- 
doned herself  to  the  extremity  of  grief.  One  hand  grasped 
unconsciously  the  weapon  which  she  held,  and  served,  at 
the  same  time,  to  prop  her  forehead,  while  the  tears,  by 
which  she  was  now  for  the  first  time  relieved,  flowed  in  tor- 
rents from  her  eyes,  and  her  sobs  seemed  so  convulsive,  that 
Rose  almost  feared  her  heart  was  bursting.  Her  affection 
and  sympathy  dictated  at  once  the  kindest  course  which 
Eveline's  condition  permitted.  Without  attempting  to  con- 
trol the  torrent  of  grief  in  its  full  current,  she  gently  sat 
her  down  beside  the  mourner,  and  possessing  herself  of  the 
hand  which  had  sunk  motionless  by  her  side,  she  alternately 
pressed  it  to  her  lips,  her  bosom,  and  her  brow,  now  cov- 
ered it  with  kisses,  now  bedewed  it  with  tears,  and,  amid 
these  tokens  of  the  most  devoted  and  humble  sympathy, 
waited  a  more  composed  moment  to  offer  her  little  stock  of 
consolation  in  such  deep  silence  and  stillness,  that,  as  the 


THE  BETROTHED  78 

pale  light  fell  upon  the  two  beautiful  young  women,  it 
seemed  rather  to  show  a  group  of  statuary,  the  work  of  some 
eminent  sculptor,  than  beings  whose  eyes  still  wept  and 
whose  hearts  still  throbbed.  At  a  little  distance,  the  gleam- 
ing corslet  of  the  Fleming,  and  the  dark  garments  of  Father 
Aldrovand,  as  they  lay  prostrate  on  the  stone  steps,  might 
represent  the  bodies  of  those  for  whom  the  principal  figures 
were  mourning. 

After  a  deep  agony  of  many  minutes,  it  seemed  that  the 
sorrows  of  Eveline  were  assuming  a  more  composed  charac- 
ter :  her  convulsive  sobs  were  changed  for  long,  k;w%  pro- 
found sighs,  and  the  course  of  her  tears,  though  they  still 
flowed,  was  milder  and  less  violent.  Her  kind  attendant, 
availing  herself  of  these  gentler  symptoms,  tried  softly  to 
win  the  spear  from  her  lady's  grasp.  "  Let  me  be  sentinel 
for  a  while,"  she  said,  "  my  sweet  lady  ;  I  will  at  least 
scream  louder  than  you  if  any  danger  should  approach." 
She  ventured  to  kiss  her  cheek  and  throw  her  arms  around 
Eveline's  neck  while  she  spoke  ;  but  a  mute  caress,  which 
expressed  her  sense  of  the  faithful  girl's  kind  intentions  to 
minister  if  possible  to  her  repose,  was  the  only  answer  re- 
turned. They  remained  for  many  minutes  silent  and  in  the 
same  posture — Eveline  like  an  upright  and  slender  poplar. 
Rose, 'who  encircled  her  lady  in  her  arms,  like  the  wood- 
bine  which  twines  around  it. 

At  length  Rose  suddenly  felt  her  young  mistress  shiver  in 
her  embrace,  and  that  Eveline's  hand  grasped  her  arm  rig- 
idly as  she  whispered,  "  Do  you  hear  nothing  ?  " 

''No,  nothing  but  the  hooting  of  the  owl,"  answered 
Rose,  timorously. 

"  I  heard  a  distant  sound,"  said  Eveline — "  I  thought  I 
heard  it.  Hark,  it  comes  again  !  Look  from  the  battle- 
ments, Rose,  while  I  awaken  the  priest  and  thy  father." 

"  Dearest  lady,"  said  Rose,  ' '  I  dare  not.  What  can  this 
sound  be  that  is  heard  by  one  only  ?  You  are  deceived  by 
the  rush  of  the  river." 

"  I  would  not  alarm  the  castle  unnecessarily,"  said  Eve- 
line, pausing,  "or  even  break  your  father's  needful  slum- 
bers,  by  a  fancy  of  mine But  hark — hark  !  I  hear  it 

again—distinct  amidst  the  intermitting  sound  of  the  rush- 
ing water — a  low,  tremulous  sound,  mingled  with  a  tinkling 
like  smiths  or  armorers  at  work  upon  their  anvils." 

Rose  had  by  this  time  sprung  up  on  the  banquette,  and 
flinging  back  her  rich  tresses  of  fair  hair,  had  applied  her 
hand  behind  her  ear  to  collect  the  distant  sound.     "  I  hear 


74  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

it/'  she  cried,  "  and  it  increases.  Awake  them,  for  Heaven's 
sake,  and  without  a  moment's  delay  ! " 

Eveline  accordingly  stirred  the  sleepers  with  the  reversed 
end  of  the  lance,  and  as  they  started  to  their  feet  in  haste, 
she  whispered,  in  a  hasty  but  cautious  voice,  "  To  arms — 
the  Welsh  are  upon  us  ! " 

"What — where  ?"  said  Wilkin  Flammock — "where  be 
they?" 

"  Listen,  and  you  will  hear  them  arming,"  she  replied. 

"  The  noise  is  but  in  thine  own  fancy,  lady,"  said  the 
Fleming,  whose  organs  were  of  the  same  heavy  character 
with  his  form  and  his  disposition.  "  I  would  I  had  not  gone 
to  sleep  at  all,  since  I  was  to  be  awakened  so  soon." 

"  Nay,  but  listen,  good  Flammock  ;  the  sound  of  armor 
comes  from  the  northeast." 

"  The  Welsh  lie  not  in  that  quarter,  lady,"  said  Wilkin, 
"and,  besides,  they  wear  no  armor." 

"I  hear  it — I  hear  it  !"  said  Father  Aldrovand,  who  had 
been  listening  for  some  time.  "  All  praise  to  St.  Benedict  ! 
Our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  has  been  gracious  to  her 
servants  as  ever  !  It  is  the  tramp  of  horse — it  is  the  clash  of 
armor  ;  the  chivalry  of  the  Marches  are  coming  to  our  relief. 
Kyrie  eleison  !  " 

"  I  hear  something  too,"  said  Flammock — "  something 
like  the  hollow  sound  of  the  great  sea,  when  it  burst  into 
my  neighbor  Klinkerman's  warehouse,  and  rolled  his  pots  and 
pans  against  each  other.  But  it  were  an  evil  mistake,  father, 
to  take  foes  for  friends:  we  were  best  rouse  the  people." 

"  Tush  ! "  said  the  priest,  "  talk  to  me  of  pots  and  kettles  ? 
Was  I  squire  of  the  body  to  Count  Stephen  Mauleverer  for 
twenty  years,  and  do  I  not  know  the  tramp  of  a  war-horse  or 
the  clash  of  a  mail-coat  ?  But  call  the  men  to  the  walls  at 
any  rate,  and  have  me  the  best  drawn  up  in  the  base-court  ; 
we  may  help  them  by  a  sally." 

"  That  will  not  be  rashly  undertaken  with  my  consent," 
murmured  the  Fleming  ;  "but  to  the  wall  if  you  will,  and 
in  good  time.  But  keep  your  Normans  and  English  silent, 
sir  priest,  else  their  unruly  and  noisy  joy  will  awaken  the 
Welsh  camp,  and  prepare  them  for  their  unwelcome  visitors." 

The  monk  laid  his  finger  on  his  lip  in  sign  of  intelligence, 
and  they  parted  in  opposite  directions,  each  to  rouse  the  de- 
fenders of  the  castle,  who  were  soon  heard  drawing  from  all 
quarters  to  their  posts  upon  the  walls,  with  hearts  in  a  very 
different  mood  from  that  in  which  they  had  descended  from 
them.     The  utmost  caution  being  used  to  prevent  noise,  the 


THE  BETROTHED  75 

manning  of  the  walls  was  accomplished  in  silence,  and  the 
garrison  awaited  in  breathless  expectation  the  success  of  the 
forces  who  were  rapidly  advancing  to  their  relief. 

The  character  of  the  sounds,  which  now  loudly  awakened 
the  silence  of  this  eventful  night,  could  no  longer  be  mis- 
taken. They  were  distinguishable  from  the  rushing  of  a 
mighty  river,  or  from  the  muttering  sound  of  distant  thun- 
der, by  the  sharp  and  angry  notes  which  the  clashing  of  the 
rider's  arms  mingled  with  the  deep  bass  of  the  horses'  rapid 
tread.*  From  the  long  continuance  of  the  sounds,  their 
loudness,  and  the  extent  of  horizon  from  which  they  reemed 
to  come,  all  in  the  castle  were  satisfied  that  the  approaching 
relief  consisted  of  several  very  strong  bodies  of  horse.  At 
once  this  mighty  sound  ceased,  as  if  the  earth  on  which  they 
trode  had  either  devoured  the  armed  squadrons  or  had  be- 
come incapable  of  resounding  to  their  tramp.  The  defenders 
of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  concluded  that  their  friends  had 
made  a  sudden  halt,  to  give  their  horses  breath,  examine  the 
leaguer  of  the  enemy,  and  settle  the  order  of  the  attack 
upon  them.     The  pause,  however,  was  but  momentary. 

The  British,  so  alert  at  surprising  their  enemies,  were 
themselves,  on  many  occasions,  liable  to  surprise.  Their 
men  were  undisciplined,  and  sometimes  negligent  of  the 
patient  duties  of  the  sentinel  ;  and,  besides,  their  foragers 
and  flying  parties,  who  scoured  the  country  during  the 
preceding  day,  had  brought  back  tidings  which  had  lulled 
them  into  fatal  security.  Their  camp  had  been  therefore 
carelessly  guarded,  and,  confident  in  the  smallness  of  the 
garrison,  tliey  had  altogether  neglected  the  important  mili- 
tary duty  of  establishing  patrols  and  outposts  at  a  proper 
distance  from  their  main  body.  Thus,  the  cavalry  of  the 
Lords  Marchers,  notwithstanding  the  noise  which  accom- 
panied their  advance,  had  approached  very  near  the  British 
camp  without  exciting  the  least  alarm.  But  while  they 
were  arranging  their  forces  into  separate  columns,  in  order 
to  commence  the  assault,  a  loud  and  increasing  clamor 
among  the  Welsh  announced  that  they  were  at  length  aware 
of  their  danger.  The  shrill  and  discordant  cries  by  which 
they  endeavored  to  assemble  their  men,  each  under  the 
banner  of  his  chief,  resounded  from  their  leaguer.  But 
these  rallying  shouts  were  soon  converted  into  screams,  and 
clamors  of  horror  and  dismay,  when  the  thundering  charge 
of  the  barbed  horses  and  heavily-armed  cavalry  of  the  Anglo- 
Normans  surprised  their  undefended  camp. 
*  See  Rattle  of  Armor.    Note  8. 


76  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

Yet  not  even  under  circumstances  so  adverse  did  the 
descendants  of  the  ancient  Britons  renounce  their  defense, 
or  forfeit  their  old  hereditary  i^rivilege  to  he  called  the 
bravest  of  mankind.  Their  cries  of  detiance  and  resistance 
were  heard  resounding  above  the  groans  of  the  wounded, 
the  shouts  of  the  triumphant  assailants,  and  the  universal 
tumult  of  the  night-battle.  It  was  not  until  the  morning 
light  began  to  peej^  forth  that  the  slaughter  or  dispersion  of 
Gwenwyn's  forces  was  complete,  and  that  the  ''earthquake 
voice  of  victory^'  arose  in  uncontrolled  and  unmingled 
energy  of  exultation. 

Then  the  besieged,  if  they  could  be  still  so  termed,  look- 
ing from  their  towers  over  the  expanded  country  beneath, 
witnessed  nothing  but  one  widespread  scene  of  desultory 
flight  and  unrelaxed  pursuit.  That  the  Welsh  had  been 
permitted  to  encamp  in  fancied  security  upon  the  hither  side 
of  the  river  now  rendered  their  discomfiture  more  dread- 
fully fatal.  The  single  pass  by  which  they  could  cross  to 
the  other  side  was  soon  completely  choked  by  fugitives,  on 
whose  rear  raged  the  swords  of  the  victorious  Normans. 
Many  threw  themselves  into  the  river,  upon  the  precarious 
chance  of  gaining  the  farther  side,  and,  except  a  few  who 
were  uncommonly  strong,  skilful,  and  active,  perished 
among  the  rocks  and  in  the  currents;  others,  more  for- 
tunate, escaped  by  fords,  with  which  they  had  accidentally 
been  made  acquainted  ;  many  dispersed,  or,  in  small  bands, 
fled  in  reckless  despair  towards  the  castle,  as  if  the  fortress, 
which  had  beat  them  off  when  victorious,  could  be  a  place 
of  refuge  to  them  in  their  present  forlorn  condition  ;  while 
others  roamed  wildly  over  the  plain,  seeking  only  escape 
from  immediate  and  instant  danger,  without  knowing  whith- 
er they  ran. 

The  Xormans,  meanwhile,  divided  into  small  parties  fol- 
lowed and  slaughtered  them  at  pleasure  ;  while,  as  a  rally- 
ing point  for  the  victors,  the  banner  of  Hugo  de  Lacy 
streamed  from  a  small  mount,  on  which  Gwenwyn  had  lately 
pitched  his  own,  and  surrounded  by  a  competent  force,  both 
of  infantry  and  horsemen,  which  the  experienced  baron  per- 
mitted on  no  account  to  wander  far  from  it. 

The  rest,  as  we  have  already  said,  followed  the  chase  with 
shouts  of  exultation  and  of  vengeance,  ringing  around  the 
battlements,  which  resounded  with  the  cries,  "  Ha,  St. 
Edward  !  Ha,  St.  Denis  !  Strike — slay — no  quarter  to  the 
Welsh  wolves — think  on  Eaymond  Berenger  ! " 

The  soldiers  on  the  walls  joined  in  these  vengeful  and 


THE  BETROTHED  77 

nctorious  clamors,  and  discharged  several  sheavet  of  arrows 
ipon  such  fugitives  as,  in  their  extremity,  approached  too 
lear  the  castle.  They  would  fain  liave  sallied  to  give  more 
ictive  assistance  in  the  work  of  destruction  ;  but  the  com- 
nunication  being  now  open  with  the  Constable  of  Chester's 
'orces,  Wilkin  Mammock  considered  himself  and  the  garri- 
son to  be  under  the  orders  of  that  renowned  chief,  and  re- 
'used  to  listen  to  the  eager  admonitions  of  Father  Aldrovand, 
vho  would,  notwitlistandiug  his  sacerdotal  character,  have 
villingly  himself  taken  charge  of  the  sally  which  he  pro- 
osed. 

(At  length,  the  scene  of  slaughter  seemed  at  an  end.  The 
etreat  was  blown  on  many  a  bugle,  and  knights  halted  on 
he  plain  to  collect  their  personal  followers,  muster  them 
mder  their  proper  pennon,  and  then  march  them  slowly 
)ack  to  the  great  standard  of  their  leader,  around  which  the 
•  nam  body  were  again  to  be  assembled,  like  the  clouds  which 
!,;ither  around  the  evening  sun — a  fanciful  simile,  which 
night  yet  be  drawn  farther,  in  respect  of  the  level  rays  of 
trong  lurid  light  which  shot  from  those  dark  battalions,  as 
he  beams  were  flung  back  from  their  polished  armor. 

The  plain  was  in  this  manner  soon  cleared  of  the  liorse- 
nen,  and  remained  occupied  only  by  the  dead  bodies  of  the 
laughtered  Welshmen.  The  bands  who  had  followed  the 
rarsuit  to  a  greater  distance  were  also  now  seen  returning, 


mhappy  captives,  to  whom  they  had  given  quarter  when 
heir  thirst  of  blood  was  satiated. 

It  was  then  that,  desirous  to  attract  the  attention  of  his 
iberators,  Wilkin  Flammock  commanded  all  the  banners  of 
he  castle  to  be  displayed,  under  a  general  shout  of  acclama- 
ion  from  those  who  had  fought  under  them.  It  was  an- 
wered  by  a  universal  cry  of  joy  from  De  Lacy's  army,  which 
ung  so  wide  as  might  even  yet  have  startled  such  of  the 
Velsh  fugitives  as,  far  distant  from  this  disastrous  field  of 
light,  might  have  ventured  to  halt  for  a  moment's  repose. 

Presently  after  this  greeting  had  been  exchanged  a  single 
ider  advanced  from  the  Constable's  army  towards  the  castle, 
bowing,  even  at  a  distance,  an  unusual  dexterity  of  horse- 
nanship  and  grace  of  deportment.  He  arrived  at  the  draw- 
)ridge,  which  was  instantly  lowered  to  admit  him,  whilst 
flammock  and  the  monk,  for  the  latter,  as  far  as  he  could, 
'associated  himself  with  the  former  in  all  acts  of  authority, 
lastened  to  receive  the  envoy  of  their  liberator.  They 
ound  him  just  alighted  from  the  raven-colored  horse,  which 


T8  WAVERLET  N0VEL8 

was  slightly  flecked  with  blood  as  well  as  foam,  and  still 
panted   with    the    exertions   of    the    evening    [morning]  ; 
though,  answering  to  the  caressing  hand  of  his  youthful 
rider,  he  arched  his  neck,  shook  his  steel  caparison,  and 
snorted,  to  announce  his  unabated  mettle  and  unwearied 
love  of  combat.     The 'young  man's  eagle  look  bore  the  same 
token  of  unabated  vigor,  mingled  with  the  signs  of  recent 
exertion.     His  helmet  hanging  at  his  saddle-bow  showed  a  ,i 
gallant    counttnance,    colored    highly,    but   not   inflamed,  || 
which  looked  out  from  a  rich  profusion  of  short  chestnut  i 
curls  ;  and  although  his  armor  was  of  a  massive  and  simple 
form,  he  moved  under  it  with  such  elasticity  and  ease,  that 
it  seemed  a  graceful  attire,  not  a  burden  or  incumbrance. 
A  furred  mantle  had  not  sat  on  him  with   more  easy  grace   : 
than  the  heavy  hauberk,  which  complied  with  every  gesture 
of  his  noble  form.     Yet  his  countenance  was  so  juvenile 
that  only  the  down  on  the  upper  li])  announced  decisively 
the  approach  to  manhood.     The  females,  who  thronged  into  : 
the  court  to  see  the  first  envoy  of  their  deliverers,  could  not  . 
forbear  mixing  praises  of   his  beauty  with  blessings  on  his 
valor  ;  and  one  comely  middle-aged  dame,  in  particular,  dis- 
tinguished by  the  tightness  with  which  her  scarlet  hose  sat 
on  a  Avell-shaped  leg  and  ankle,  and  by  the  cleanness  of  her  : 
coif,  pressed  close  iip  to  the  young  squire,  and,  more  for- 
ward than  the  rest,  doubled  the  crimson  hue  of  his  cheek  bjic: 
crying  aloud  that  Our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  haclf:: 
sent  them  news  of  their  redemption  by  an  angel  from  thJ^ 
sanctuary — a    speech   which,    altliough   Father   Aldrovam 
shook  his  head,  was  received  by  her  companions  with  sucl 
general  acclamation  as  greatly  embarrassed  the  young  man' 
modesty. 

**  Peace,  all  of  ye!"  said  Wilkin  Flammock.     '*  Knoi 
you  no  respect,  you  women,  or  have  you  never  seen  a  youn 
gentleman   before,   that  you  hang  on  him   like  flies  on 
honeycomb  ?     Stand  back,  I  say,  and  let  us  hear  in  peac 
what  are  the  commands  of  the  noble  Lord  of  Lacy." 

"  These,"  said  the  young  man,  "  I  can  only  deliver  in  tl: 
presence  of  the  right  noble  demoiselle,  Eveline  Berenger,  ' 
I  may  be  thought  worthy  of  such  honor." 

"  That  thou  art,  noble  sir,"  said  the  same  forward  dami 
who  had  before  expressed  her  admiration  so  energeticallj] 
"  I  will  uphold  thee  worthy  of  her  presence,  and  whatev; 
other  grace  a  lady  can  do  thee." 

"  Now  hold  thy  tongue,  with  a  wanion  !  "  said  the  monlj|||[f~„' 
while  in  the  same  breath  the  Fleming  exclaimed,  "  Bewar 


THE  BETROTHED  TO 

the  cucking-stool,  Dame  Scant-o'-Grace  ! "  while  he  con- 
ducted the  noble  youth  across  the  court. 

*'  Let  my  good  horse  be  cared  for/'  said  the  cavalier,  as 
he  put  the  bridle  into  the  hand  of  a  menial  ;  and  in  doing 
so  got  rid  of  some  part  of  his  female  retinue,  who  began  to 
pat  and  praise  the  steed  as  much  as  they  had  done  the  rider  ; 
and  some,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  their  joy,  hardly  abstained 
from  kissing  the  stirrups  and  horse-furniture. 

But  Dame  Gillian  was  not  so  easily  diverted  from  her  own 
point  as  were  some  of  her  companions.  She  continued  to 
repeat  the  word  "cucking-stool"  till  the  Flemiug  was  out 
of  hearing,  and  then  became  more  specific  in  her  objurga- 
tion. "And  why  cucking-stool,  I  pray,  Sir  Wilkin  Butter- 
firkin  ?  You  are  the  man  would  stop  an  English  mouth 
with  a  Flemish  damask  napkin,  I  trow  !  Marry  gnep,  my 
cousin  the  weaver!  And  why  the  cucking-stool,  I  pray  ? 
because  my  young  lady  is  comely,  and  the  young  squire  is  a 
man  of  mettle,  reverence  to  his  beard  that  is  to  come  yet ! 
Have  we  not  eyes  to  see,  and  have  we  not  a  mouth  and  a 
tongue  ?  " 

"  In  troth.  Dame  Gillian,  they  do  you  wrong  who  doubt 
it,"  said  Eveline's  nurse,  who  stood  by;  "but,  I  prithee, 
keep  it  shut  now,  were  it  but  for  womanhood." 

"  How  now,  mannerly  Mrs.  JMargery  ?"  replied  the  incor- 
rigible Gillian  ;  "  is  your  heart  so  high,  because  you  dandled 
our  young  lady  on  your  knee  fifteen  years  since  ?  Let  me 
tell  you,  the  cat  will  find  its  way  to  the  cream,  though  it 
was  brought  up  on  an  abbess's  lap." 

"  Home,  housewife — home  \"  exclaimed  her  husband,  the 
old  huntsman,  who  was  weary  of  this  public  exhibition  of 
his  domestic  termagant — "  home,  or  I  will  give  you  a  taste 
of  my  dog-leash.  Here  are  both  the  confessor  and  Wilkin 
Flammock  wondering  at  your  impudence." 

"Indeed!"  replied  Gillian;  "and  are  not  two  fools 
enough  for  wonderment,  that  you  must  come  with  youi 
grave  pate  to  make  up  the  number  three  ?  " 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  the  huntsman's  expense, 
under  cover  of  which  he  prudently  withdrew  his  spouse, 
without  attempting  to  continue  the  war  of  tongue,  in  which 
she  had  shown  such  a  decided  superiority. 

This  controversy,  so  light  is  the  change  in  human  spirits, 
especially  among  the  lower  class,  awakened  bursts  of  idle 
mirth  among  beings  who  had  so  lately  been  in  the  jaws  of 
clanger,  if  not  of  absolute  despair. 


CHAPTER  X 

They  bore  him  barefaced  on  his  bier. 

Six  proper  youtlis  and  tall, 
And  many  a  tear  bedew'd  his  grave 

Within  yon  kirkyard  wall. 

Tlie  Friar  of  Orders  Gray, 

While  these  matters  took  place  in  the  castle-yard,  the 
young  squire,  Damian  Lacy,  obtained  the  audience  which  he 
had  requested  of  Eveline  Berenger,  who  received  him  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  castle,  seated  beneath  the  dais,  or  canopy, 
and  waited  upon  by  Eose  and  other  female  attendants,  of 
whom  the  first  alone  was  jiermitted  to  use  a  tabouret  or 
small  stool  in  her  jjresence,  so  strict  were  the  Norman  maidens 
of  quality  in  maintaining  their  claims  to  high  rank  and 
observance. 

The  youth  was  introduced  by  the  confessor  and  Flammock, 
as  the  spiritual  character  of  the  one,  and  the  trust  reposed 
by  her  late  father  in  the  other,  authorized  them  to  be  j)res- 
ent  upon  the  occasion.  Eveline  naturally  blushed  as  she 
advanced  two  steps  to  receive  the  handsome  youthful  envoy  ; 
and  her  bashfulness  seemed  infectious,  for  it  was  with  some 
confusion  that  Damian  went  through  the  ceremony  of  salut- 
ing the  hand  which  she  extended  towards  him  in  token  of 
welcome.     Eveline  was  under  the  necessity  of  speaking  first. 

''We  advance  as  far  as  our  limits  will  permit  us,"  she 
said,  "  to  greet  with  our  thanks  the  messenger  who  brings 
us  tidings  of  safety.  We  speak — unless  we  err — to  the  noble 
Damian  of  Lacy  ?" 

'"'To  the  humblest  of  your  servants,"  answered  Damian, 
falling  with  some  difficulty  into  the  tone  of  courtesy  which 
his  errand  and  character  required,  "  who  approaches  you  on 
behalf  of  his  noble  uncle,  Hugo  de  Lacy,  Constable  of 
Chester." 

"  Will  not  our  noble  deliverer  in  person  honor  with  his 
presence  the  poor  dwelling  which  he  has  saved  ?" 

"My  noble  kinsman,"  answered  Damian,  "  is  now  God's 

soldier,  and  bound  by  a  vow  not  to  come  beneath  a  roof 

until  he  embark  for  the  Holy  Land.     But  by  my  voice  he 

congratulates  you  on  the  defeat  of  your  savage  enemies,  and 

80 


THE  BETROTHED  81 

sends  you  these  tokens  that  the  comrade  and  friend  of  your 
noble  father  hath  not  left  his  lamentable  death  many  hours 
unavenged."  So  saying,  he  drew  forth  and  laid  before 
Eveline  the  gold  bracelets,  the  coronet,  and  the  eudorchawg, 
or  chain  of  linked  gold,  which  had  distinguished  the  rank  of 
the  Welsh  prince. 

"  Gwenwyn  hath  then  fallen  ?  "  said  Eveline,  a  natural 
shudder  combating  with  the  feelings  of  gratified  vengeance, 
as  she  beheld  that  the  trophies  were  specked   with  blood — 


''  the  slayer  of  my  father  is  no  more  ! 
"  Mv  kinsman's 


My  kinsman's  lance  transfixed  the  Briton  as  he  endeav- 
ored to  rally  his  flying  people  ;  he  died  grimly  on  the  weapon 
which  had  passed  more  than  a  fathom  through  his  body,  and 
exerted  his  last  strength  in  a  furious  but  ineffectual  blow 
with  his  mace." 

"  Heaven  is  just,"  said  Eveline  ;  "  may  his  sins  be  for- 
given to  the  man  of  blood,  since  he  hath  fallen  by  a  death 
so  bloody  !  One  question  I  would  ask  you,  noble  sir.  My 
father's  remains "  she  paused,  unable  to  proceed. 

"  An  hour  will  place  them  at  your  disposal,  most  honored 
lady,"  replied  the  squire,  in  the  tone  of  sympathy  which  the 
sorrows  of  so  young  and  so  fair  an  orphan  called  irresistibly 
forth.  ''Such  preparations  as  time  admitted  were  making, 
even  when  I  left  the  host,  to  transport  what  was  mortal  of  the 
noble  Berenger  from  the  field  on  which  we  found  him,  amid 
a  monument  of  slain  which  his  own  sword  had  raised.  My 
kinsman's  vow  will  not  allow  him  to  pass  your  portcullis  ; 
but,  with  your  permission,  I  will  represent  him,  if  such  be 
your  pleasure,  at  these  honored  obsequies,  having  charge 
to  that  effect." 

"  My  brave  and  noble  father,"  said  Eveline,  making  an 
effort  to  restrain  her  tears,  "  will  be  best  mourned  by  the 
noble  and  the  brave."  She  would  have  continued,  but  her 
voice  failed  her,  and  she  was  obliged  to  withdraw  abruptly, 
in  order  to  give  vent  to  her  sorrow,  and  prepare  for  the  fu- 
neral rites  with  such  ceremony  as  circumstances  should  permit. 
Damian  bowed  to  the  departing  mourner  as  reverently  as  he 
would  have  done  to  a  divinity,  and,  taking  his  horse,  returned 
to  his  uncle's  host,  which  had  encamped  hastily  on  the  recent 
field  of  battle. 

The  sun  was  now  high,  and  the  whole  plain  presented  the 
appearance  of  a  bustle  equally  different  from  the  solitude  of 
the  early  morning  and  from  the  roar  and  fury  of  the  subse- 
quent engagement.  The  news  of  Hugo  de  Lacy's  victory 
everywhere  spread  abroad  with  all  the  alacrity  of  triumph, 
6 


82  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  had  induced  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  country, 
who  had  fled  before  the  fury  of  the  Wolf  of  Plinlimmon,  to 
return  to  their  desolate  habitations.  Numbers  also  of  the  loose 
and  profligate  characters  which  abound  in  a  country  subject 
to  the  frequent  changes  of  war,  had  flocked  thither  in  quest 
of  spoil,  or  to  gratify  a  spirit  of  restless  curiosity.  The  Jew 
and  the  Lombard,  despising  danger  where  there  was  a  chance 
of  gain,  might  be  already  seen  bartering  liquors  and  wares 
with  the  victorious  men-at-arms,  for  the  blood-stained  orna- 
ments of  gold  lately  worn  by  the  defeated  British.  Others 
acted  as  brokers  betwixt  the  Welsh  captives  and  their  cap- 
tors ;  and  where  they  could  trust  the  means  and  good  faith 
of  the  former,  sometimes  became  bound  for,  or  even  advanced 
in  ready  money,  the  sums  necessary  for  their  ransom  ;  whilst 
a  more  numerous  class  became  themselves  the  purchasers  of 
those  prisoners  who  had  no  immediate  means  of  settling  with 
their  conquerors. 

That  the  spoil  thus  acquired  might  not  long  encumber  the 
soldier,  or  blunt  his  ardor  for  farther  enterprise,  the  usual 
means  of  dissipating  military  sjDoils  were  already  at  hand. 
Courtesans,  mimes,  jugglers,  minstrels,   and  tale-tellers  of 
every  description  had  accompanied  the   night-march  ;  and, 
secure  in  the  military  reputation  of  the  celebrated  De  Lacy, 
had  rested  fearlessly  at  some  little  distance   until  the  battle  j 
was  fouglit  and  won.     These  now  approached,   in  many  a  : 
joyous  group,  to  congratulate  the  victors.     Close  to  the  par- 
ties which  they  formed  for  the  dance,  the  song,  or  the  tale, 
upon  the  yet  bloody  field,  the  countrymen,  summoned  in  for  j 
the  purpose,  were  ojiening  large  trenches  for  depositing  the  j 
dead,  leeches  were  seen  tending  the  wounded,  priests   and 
monks  confessing  those  in  extremity,  soldiers  transporting  I 
from  the  fields  the  bodies  of  the   more  honored  among  the  ! 
slain,    peasants   mourning  over    their  trampled  crops   and  \ 
plundered  habitations,  and  widows   and   orphans   searching  i 
for  the  bodies  of  husbands  and  parents  amidst  the  promis- ; 
cuous   carnage  of  two  combats.      Thus    woe  mingled   her ; 
wildest  notes  with  those  of  jubilee  and  bacchanal  triumph, ! 
and  the  plain  of  the  Garde  Douloureuse  formed  a  singular  i 
parallel  to  the  varied   maze  of  human  life,  where  joy  and 
grief  are  so  strangely  mixed,  and  where  the  confines  of  mirth 
and  pleasure  often  border  on  those  of  sorrow  and  of  death. 

About  noon  these  various  noises  were  at  once  silenced, 
and  the  attention  alike  of  those  who  rejoiced  or  who  grieved 
was  arrested  by  the  loud  and  mournful  sounds  of  six  trum- 
pets, which,  uplifting  and  uniting  their  thrilling  tones  in  a 


TEE  BETROTHED  88 

T  wild  and  melancholy  death-note,  apprised  all  that  the  ob- 
sequies of  the  valiant  Raymond  Berenger  were  about  to  com- 
mence. From  a  tent  which  had  been  hastily  pitched  for  the 
immediate  reception  of  the  body,  twelve  black  monks,  the 
inhabitants  of  a  neighboring  convent,  began  to  file  out  in 
pairs,  headed  by  their  abbot,  who  bore  a  large  cross,  and 
thundered  forth  the  sublime  notes  of  the  Catholic  Afiserere 
me,  Domine.  Then  came  a  chosen  body  of  men-at-arms, 
trailing  their  lances,  with  their  points  reversed  and  pointed 
to  the  earth  ;  and  after  them  the  body  of  the  valiant  Beren- 
ger, wrapped  in  his  own  knightly  banner,  which,  regained 
from  the  liandsof  the  Welsh,  now  served  its  noble  owner  in- 
stead of  a  funeral  pall.  The  most  gallant  knights  of  the  Con- 
stable's household  (for,  like  other  great  nobles  of  that  period, 
he  had  formed  it  upon  a  scale  which  approached  to  that  of 

i;ji ;  royalty)  walked  as  mourners   and  supporters  of  the  corpse, 
I!  which  was  borne  upon  lances  ;  and  the  Constable  of  Chester 

»!;  ''  himself,  alone  and  fully  armed,  excepting  the  head,  followed 
as  chief  mourner,  A  chosen  body  of  squires,  men-at-arms, 
and  pages  of  noble  descent  brought  up  the  rear  of  the  pro- 

.,;  cession  ;  while  their  nakers  and  trumpets  echoed  back,  from 
time  to  time,  the  melancholy  song  of  the  monks,  by  replying 
in  a  note  as  lugubrious  as  their  own. 

The  course  of   pleasure  was  arrested,  and  even  that  of 

sorrow  was  for  a  moment  turned  from  her  own  griefs,  to 

.    witness  the  last  honors  bestowed  on  him  who  had  been  in 

^.     life  the  father  and  guardian  of  his  people. 

|"flj      The  mournful  procession  traversed  slowly  the  plain  which 

(IjIi  had  been  within  a  few  hours  the  scene  of  such  varied  events  ; 

,1    and,  pausing  before  the  outer  gate  of  the  barricades  of  the 
castle,  invited,  by  a  prolonged  and  solemn  flourish,  the  fort- 
ress to  receive  the  remains  of  its  late  gallant  defender.     The 
melancholy  summons  was  answered  by   the  warden's  horn, 
_^.    the  drawbridge  sunk,  the  portcullis  rose,  and  Father  Aldro- 

11^,:  I  vand  appeared  in  the  middle  of  the  gateway,  arrayed  in  his 

]jj,  j  sacerdotal  habit,  whilst  a  little  space  behind  him  stood  the 
I  j  orphaned  damsel,  in  such  weeds  of  mourning  as  time  ad- 

,^y  I  mitted,  supported  by  her  attendant  Rose,  and  followed  by 

'jjj    the  females  of  the  household. 

■jll  I      The  Constable  of  Chester  paused  upon  the  threshold  of 

^,,,]i  \  the  outer  gate,  and,  pointing  to  the  cross  signed  in  white 

;    cloth  upon  his  left  shoulder,  with  a  lowly  reverence  resigned 

to  his  nephew,  Damian,  the  task  of  attending  the  remains 

ji.  I  of  Raymond  Berenger  to  the  chapel  within  the  castle.     The 

■  il  soldiers  of  Hugo  de  Lacy,  most  of  whom  were  bound  by  the 


84  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

same  vow  with  himself,  also  halted  v/ithoat  the  castle  gate, 
and  remained  under  arms,  while  the  death-peal  of  the 
chapel  bell  announced  from  within  the  progress  of  the  pro- 
cession. 

It  winded  on  through  those  narrow  entrances  which  were 
skilfully  contrived  to  interrupt  the  progress  of  an  enemy, 
even  should  he  succeed  in  forcing  the  outer  gate,  and 
arrived  at  length  in  the  great  courtyard,  where  most  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  fortress,  and  those  who,  under  recent 
circumstances,  had  taken  refuge  there,  were  drawn  up,  in 
order  to  look,  for  the  last  time,  on  their  departed  lord. 
Among  these  were  mingled  a  few  of  the  motley  crowd  from 
without,  whom  curiosity,  or  the  expectation  of  a  dole,  had 
brought  to  the  castle  gate,  and  who,  by  one  argument  or 
another,  had  obtained  from  the  warders  permission  to  enter 
the  interior. 

The  body  was  here  set  down  before  the  door  of  the  chapel, 
the  ancient  Gothic  front  of  which  formed  one  side  of  the 
courtyard,  until  certain  prayers  were  recited  by  the  priests, 
in  which  the  crowd  around  were  supposed  to  join  with 
becoming  reverence. 

It  was  during  this  interval  that  a  man,  whose  peaked 
beard,  embroidered  girdle,  and  high-crowned  hat  of  gray 
felt  gave  him  the  air  of  a  Lombard  merchant,  addressed 
Margery,  the  nurse  of  Eveline,  in  a  whispering  tone,  and 
with  a  foreign  accent.  "lam  a  traveling  mercliant,  good 
sister,  and  am  come  hither  in  quest  of  gain  ;  can  you  tell 
me  Avhether  I  can  have  any  custom  in  this  castle  ?" 

"  You  are  come  at  an  b\\\  time,  sir  stranger  :  you  may 
yourself  see  that  this  is  a  place  for  mourning,  and  not  for 
merchandise.'" 

"  Yet  mourning  times  have  their  own  commerce,"  said 
the  stranger,  approaching  still  closer  to  the  side  of  Margery, 
and  lowering  his  voice  to  a  tone  yet  more  confidential.  "  I 
have  sable  scarfs  of  Persian  silk  ;  black  bugles,  in  which  a 
princess  might  mourn  for  a  deceased  monarch  ;  Cyprus,  such 
as  the  East  hath  seldom  sent  forth  ;  black  cloth  for  mourn- 
ing hangings — all  that  may  express  sorrow  and  reverence  in. 
fashion  and  attire  ;  and  I  know  how  to  be  grateful  to  those 
who  help  me  to  custom.  Come,  bethink  you,  good  dame, 
such  things  must  be  had  ;  I  will  sell  as  good  ware  and  as 
cheap  as  another  ;  and  a  kirtle  to  yourself,  or  at  youi 
pleasure,  a  purse  with  five  florins,  shall  be  the  meed  of  youi 
kindness." 

*'  I  prithee  peace,  friend,"  said  Margery,  "and  choose  i 


THE  BETROTHED 


better  time  for  vaiuiting  your  wares  ;  you  neglect  both 
place  and  season,  and  if  you  be  farther  importunate,  I  must 
speak  to  those  who  will  show  you  the  outward  side  of  the 
castle  gate.  I  marvel  the  warders  would  admit  peddlers 
upon  a  day  such  as  this  :  they  would  drive  a  gainful  bar- 
gaiu  by  the  bedside  of  their  mother,  were  she  dying,  I 
trow/'     So  saying,  she  turned  scornfully  from  him. 

While  thus  angrily  rejected  on  the  one  side,  the  merchant 
felt  his  cloak  receive  an  intelligent  twitch  upon  the  other, 
and,  looking  around  upon  the  signal,  he  saw  a  dame,  whose 
black  kerchief  was  affectedly  disposed,  so  as  to  give  an  ap- 
pearance of  solemnity  to  a  set  of  light  laughing  features, 
which  must  have  been  captivating  when  young,  since  they 
retained  so  many  good  points  when  at  least  forty  years  had 
passed  over  them.     She  winked  to  the  mercliaut,  touching 
at  the  same  time  her  under  lip  with  her  forefinger,  to  an- 
nounce the  propriety  of  silence  and  secrecy ;    then  gliding 
■    from  the  crowd,   retreated  to  a  small  recess  formed  by  a 
projecting  buttress  of  the  chapel,  as  if  to  avoid  the  pressure 
-  likely  to  take  place  at  the  moment  when  the  bier  should  be 
ilifted.     The  merchant  failed  not  to  follow  her  example,  and 
;iM  [was  soon  by  her  side, when  she  did  not  give  him  the  trouble  of 
iWjiopening  his  affairs,  but  commenced  the  conversation  herself. 
m\     "  1  have  heard  what  you  said  to  our  Dame   Margery — 
';  Mannerly  Margery,  as  I  call  her — heard  as  much,  at  least, 
as  led  me  to  guess  the  rest,   for  I  have  got  an  eye  in  my 
. :-  head,  I  promise  you." 

i  "A  pair  of  them,  my  pretty  dame,  and  as  bright  as  drops 
of  dew  in  a  May  morning." 

"  Oh,  you  say  so,  because  I  have  been  weeping,"  said  the 

scarlet-hosed  Gillian,  for  it  was  even  herself  who  spoke  ; 

a  \"  and  to  be  sure,  I  have  good  cause,  for  our  lord  was  always 

0i  jmy  very  good  lord,  and  would  sometimes  chuck  me  under 

■■!  ^the  chin,  and  call  me  buxom  Gillian  of  Croydon  ;  not  that 

the  good  gentleman  was  ever  uncivil,  for  he  would  thrust  a 

silver  twopennies  into  my  hand  at  the  same  time.     Oh  !  the 

friend  that  I  have  lost !     And  I  have   had   anger   on   this 

account  too:   I  have  seen  old  Raoul  as  sour  as  vinegar,  and 

■  fit  for  no  place  but  the  kennel  for  a  whole  day  about   it ; 

but,  as  I  said  to  him,  it  was  not  for  the  like  of  me  to  be 

,„  li  affronting  our  master,  and  a  great  baron,   about   a   chuck 

TOiii fonder  the  chin,  or  a  kiss,  or  such  like." 

"No  wonder  you    are   so   sorry   for   so   kind   a   master, 
dame,"  said  the  merchant. 
"  No  wonder  indeed,"  replied  the  dame,  with  a  sigh  j 


mosei 


86  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

"  and  then  what  is  to  become  of  us  ?  It  is  like  my  young 
mistress  will  go  to  her  aunt ;  or  she  will  marry  one  of  these 
Lacys  that  they  talk  so  much  of ;  or,  at  any  rate,  she  will 
leave  the  castle  ;  and  it's  like  old  Raoul  and  I  will  be  turned 
to  grass  with  the  lord's  old  chargers.  The  Lord  knows, 
they  may  as  well  hang  him  up  with  the  old  hounds,  for  he 
is  both  footless  and  faugless,  and  fit  for  nothing  on  earth 
that  I  know  of." 

"  Your  young  mistress  is  that  lady  in  the  mourning 
mantle,"  said  the  merchant,  "who  so  nearly  sunk  down 
upon  the  body  just  now  ?" 

"In  good  troth  is  she,  sir,  and  much  cause  she  has  to 
sink  dow)i.  I  am  sure  she  will  be  to  seek  for  such  another 
father." 

"  I  see  you  are  a  most  discerning  woman,  gossip  Gillian," 
answered  the  merchant ;  "  and  yonder  youth  that  sui^ported 
her  is  her  bridegroom  ?  " 

"  Much  need  she  has  for  some  one  to  support  her,"  said 
Gillian  ;  '  *  and  so  have  I  for  that  matter,  for  what  can  poor 
old  rusty  Raoul  do  ?  " 

.  "  But  as  to  your  young  lady's  marriage?"  said  the  mer- 
chant. 

"No  one  knows  more,  than  that  such  a  thing  was  in 
treaty  between  our  late  lord  and  the  great  Constable  of 
Chester,  that  came  to-day  but  just  in  time  to  prevent  the 
"Welsh  from  cutting  all  our  throats,  and  doing  the  Lore 
knoweth  what  mischief  besides.  But  there  is  a  marriagf 
talked  of,  that  is  certain  ;  and  most  folk  think  it  must  b( 
for  this  smooth-cheeked  boy,  Damian,  as  they  call  him  ;  foi 
though  the  Constable  has  gotten  a  beard,  which  his  nephev 
hath  not,  it  is  something  too  grizzled  for  a  bridegroom' 
chin.  Besides,  he  goes  to  the  Holy  Wars — fittest  place  fo 
all  elderly  warriors — I  wish  he  would  take  Raoul  with  him 
But  what  is  all  this  to  what  you  were  saying  about  you 
mourning  wares  eveu  now  ?  It  is  a  sad  truth,  that  my  poo 
lord  is  gone.  But  what  then.  Well-a-day,  you  know  th 
good  old  saw — 

Cloth  must  we  wear. 
Eat  beef  and  drink  beer, 
Though  the  dead  go  to  bier.    ' 

And  for  your  merchandising,  I  am  as  like  to  help  you  wit 
my  good  word  as  Mannerly  Margery,  provided  you  bid  fa 
for  it ;  since,  if  the  lady  loves  me  not  so  much,  I  can  tur 
the  steward  round  my  finger." 


THE  BETROTHED  87 

**Take  this  in  part  of  our  bargain,  pretty  Mrs.  Gillian," 
said  the  merchant  ;  "  and  when  my  wains  come  up,  I  will 
consider  you  amply,  if  I  get  good  sale  by  your  favorable  re- 
port. But  how  shall  I  get  into  the  castle  again  ?  for  I  would 
wish  to  consult  you,  being  a  sensible  woman,  before  I  come 
in  with  my  luggage." 

"  Why,"  answered  the  complaisant  dame,  *'if  our  English  be 
on  guard,  you  have  only  to  ask  for  Gillian,  and  they  will  open 
tlie  wicket  to  any  single  man  at  once — for  we  English  stick 
all  together,  were  it  but  to  spite  the  Normans  ;  but  if  a  Nor- 
man be  on  duty,  you  must  ask  for  old  Eaoul,  and  say  you 
come  to  speak  of  dogs  and  hawks  for  sale,  and  I  warrant  you 
come  to  speech  of  me  that  way.  If  the  sentinel  be  a  Flem- 
ing, you  have  but  to  say  you  are  a  merchant,  and  he  will  let 
you  in  for  the  love  of  trade." 

The  merchant  repeated  his  thankful  acknowledgment, 
glided  from  her  side,  and  mixed  among  tlie  spectators,  leav- 
ing her  to  congratulate  herself  on  liaving  gained  a  brace  of 
florins  by  the  indulgence  of  her  natural  talkative  humor  ; 
for  which,  on  other  occasions,  she  had  sometimes  dearly 
paid. 

The  ceasing  of  the  heavy  toll  of  the  castle  bell  now  gave 
intimation  that  the  noble  Eaymond  Berenger  had  been  laid 
in  the  vault  with  his  fathers.  That  part  of  the  funeral 
attendants  who  had  come  from  the  host  of  De  Lacy  now  pro- 
ceeded to  the  castle  hall,  where  they  partook,  but  with  tem- 
perance, of  some  refreshments,  which  were  offered  as  a  death- 
meal  ;  and  presently  after  left  the  castle,  headed  by  young 
Damian,  in  the  same  slow  and  melancholy  form  in  which 
they  had  entered.  The  monks  remained  w'ithin  the  castle 
to  sing  repeated  services  for  the  soul  of  the  deceased,  and 
for  those  of  his  faithful  men-at-arms  who  had  fallen  around 
him,  and  who  had  been  so  much  mangled  during,  and  after, 
the  contest  with  the  Welsh  that  it  was  scarce  possible  to 
know  one  individual  from  another  ;  otherwise  the  body  of 
Dennis  Morolt  would  have  obtained,  as  his  faith  well  de- 
:  served,  the  honors  of  a  separate  funeral.* 

*  See  Cruelties  of  the  Welsh.    Jf  ote  9. 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  funeral  baked  meats 
Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  table. 

Hamlet. 

The  religious  rites  which  followed  the  funeral  of  Eaymond 
Berenger  endured  without  interruption  for  theperiod"^  of  six- 
days,  during  which  alms  were  distributed  to  the  poor,  and 
relief  administered,  at  the  expense  of  the  Lady  Eveline,  to 
all  those  who  had  suffered  by  the  late  inroad.  Death-meals, 
as  they  were  termed,  were  also  S23read  in  honor  of  the  de- 
ceased ;  but  the  lady  herself,  and  most  of  her  attendants, 
observed  a  stern  course  of  vigil,  discipline,  and  fasts,  which 
appeared  to  the  Normans  a  more  decorous  manner  of  testi- 
fying their  respect  for  the  dead  than  the  Saxon  and  Flemish 
custom  of  banqueting  and  drinking  inordinately  upon  such 
occasions. 

Meanwhile,  the  Constable  de  Lacy  retained  a  large  body 
of  his  men  encamped  under  the  walls  of  the  Garde  Do- 
lourense,  for  protection  against  some  new  irruption  of  the 
Welsh,  while  with  the  rest  he  took  advantage  of  his  victory 
and  struck  terror  into  the  British  by  many  well-conducted 
forays,  marked  with  ravages  scarcely  less  hurtful  than  their 
own.  Among  the  enemy,  the  evils  of  discord  were  added 
to  those  of  defeat  and  invasion  ;  for  two  distant  relations  of 
Gwenwyn  contended  for  the  throne  he  had  lately  occupied 
and  on  this,  as  on  many  other  occasions,  the  Britons  suffered 
as  much  from  internal  dissension  as  from  the  sword  of  the 
Normans.  A  worse  politician  and  a  less  celebrated  soldier 
than  the  sagacious  and  successful  De  Lacy  could  not  have 
failed,  under  such  circumstances,  to  negotiate  as  he  did  an 
advantageous  peace,  which,  while  it  deprived  Powys  of  a  part 
of  its  frontier,  and  the  command  of  some  important  passes, 
in  which  it  was  the  Constable's  purpose  to  build  castlesy 
rendered  the  Garde  Doloureuse  more  secure  than  formerly 
from  any  sudden  attack  on  the  part  of  their  fiery  and  rest-i 
less  neighbors.  De  Lacy's  care  also  went  to  re-establishing 
those  settlers  who  had  fled  from  their  possessions,  and  puti 
ting  the  whole  lordship,  which  now  descended  upon  an  un* 

I 


THE  BETROTHED  89 

protected  female,  into  a  state  of  defeuse  as  pei'fect  as  its 
situation  on  a  hostile  frontier  could  possibly  permit. 

Whilst  thus  anxiously  provident  in  the  affairs  of  the  orphan 
of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  De  Lacy,  during  the  space  we  have 
mentioned,  sought  not  to  disturb  her  filial  grief  by  any  per- 
sonal intercourse.  His  nephew,  indeed,  was  despatched  by 
times  every  morning  to  lay  before  her  his  uncle's  devoirs,  in 
the  high-flown  language  of  the  day,  and  acquaint  her  with 
che  steps  whicli  he  had  taken  in  her  affairs.  As  a  meed  due 
to  his  relative's  high  services,  Damian  was  always  admitted 
to  see  Eveline  on  such  occasions,  and  returned  charged  with 
her  grateful  thanks,  and  her  implicit  acquiescence  in  what- 
ever the  Constable  proposed  for  her  consideration. 

But  when  the  days  of  rigid  mourning  were  elapsed,  the 
young  De  Lacy  stated,  on  the  part  of  his  kinsman,  that  his 
treaty  with  the  AVelsh  being  concluded,  and  all  things  in  the 
district  arranged  as  well  as  circumstances  would  permit,  the 
Constable  of  Chester  now  proposed  to  return  into  his  own 
territory,  in  order  to  resume  his  instant  preparations  for  the 
Holy  Land,  which  the  duty  of  chastising  her  enemies  had 
for  some  days  interrupted. 

"And  will  not  the  noble  Constable,  before  he  departs  from 
this  place,"  said  Eveline,  with  a  burst  of  gratitude  which 
the  occasion  well  merited,  "  receive  the  personal  thanks  of 
her  that  was  ready  to  perish  when  he  so  valiantly  came  to 
herald?" 

"  It  was  even  on  that  point  that  I  was  commissioned  to 
speak,"  replied  Damian  ;  "but  my  noble  kinsman  feels  dif- 
fident to  propose  to  you  that  which  he  most  earnestly  desires 
— the  privilege  of  speaking  to  your  own  ears  certain  matters 
of  high  import,  and  Avith  which  he  judges  it  fit  to  entrust  no 
third  party." 

"Surely,"  said  the  maiden,  blushing,  "there  can  be 
,  ,  naught  beyond  the  bounds  of  maidenhood  in  my  seeing  the 
ij*j  noble  Constable  whenever  such  is  his  pleasure." 
ijj  "But  his  vow,"  replied  Damian,  "binds  my  kinsman  not 
p.jf  j  to  come  beneath  a  roof  until  he  sets  sail  for  Palestine  ;  and 
.;fi  j  in  order  to  meet  him,  you  must  grace  him  so  far  as  to  visit 
[l(ii(  his  pavilion — a  condescension  which,  as  a  knight  and  Nor- 
J|  man  noble,  he  can  scarcely  ask  of  a  damsel  of  high  degree." 
'0  \  "  And  is  that  all  ?"  said  Eveline,  who,  educated  in  a  re- 
^jj:  j-mote  situation,  was  a  stranger  to  some  of  the  nice  points  of 
^.  \  etiquette  which  the  damsels  of  the  time  observed  in  keeping 
'.-  ,  their  state  towards  the  other  sex.  "  Shall  I  not,"  she  said, 
"  go  to  render  my  thanks  to  my  deliverer,  since  he  cannot 


90  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

come  hither  to  receive  them  ?  Tell  the  noble  Hngo  de  Lacy 
that,  next  to  my  gratitude  to  Heaven,  it  is  due  to  him  and 
to  his  brave  companions  in  arms.  I  will  come  to  his  tent  as 
to  a  holy  shrine  ;  and,  could  such  homage  please  him,  I 
would  come  barefooted,  were  the  roads  strewed  with  flints 
and  with  thorns." 

"  My  uncle  will  be  equally  honored  and  delighted  with 
your  resolve,"  said  Damian  ;  "  but  it  will  be  his  study  to  save 
you  all  unnecessary  trouble,  and  with  that  view  a  pavilion 
shall  be  instantly  planted  before  your  castle  gate,  which,  if 
it  please  you  to  grace  it  with  your  j)resence,  may  be  the  place 
for  the  desired  interview." 

Eveline  readily  acquiesced  in  what  was  proposed,  as  the 
expedient  agreeable  to  the  Constable  and  recommended  by 
Damian  ;  but,  in  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  she  saw  no 
good  reason  why,  under  the  guardianship  of  the  latter,  she 
should  not  instantly,  and  without  farther  form,  have  trav- 
ersed the  little  familiar  plain  on  which,  when  a  child,  she 
used  to  chase  butterflies  and  gather  king's-cups,  and  where 
of  later  years  she  was  wont  to  exercise  her  palfrey  on  this 
well-known  plain,  being  the  only  space,  and  that  of  small 
extent,  which  separated  her  from  the  camp  of  the  Constable 

The  youthful  emissary,  with  whose  presence  she  had  now 
become  familiar,  retired  to  acquaint  his  kinsman  and  lord 
with  the  success  of  his  commission  ;  and  Eveline  experienced 
the  first  sensation  of  anxiety  upon  her  own  account  which 
had  agitated  her  bosom  since  the  defeat  and  death  of 
Gwenwyn  gave  her  permission  to  dedicate  her  thouglits  ex 
clusively  to  grief  for  the  loss  which  she  had  sustained  in  the 
person  of  her  noble  father.  But  now,  when  that  grief 
though  not  satiated,  was  blunted  by  solitary  indulgence  ; 
now  that  she  was  to  appear  before  the  person  of  whose  fame 
she  had  heard  so  much,  of  whose  powerful  protection  she 
had  received  such  recent  proofs,  her  mind  insensibly  turned 
upon  the  nature  and  consequences  of  that  important  inter- 
view. She  had  seen  Hugo  de  Lacy,  indeed,  at  the  great 
tournament  at  Chester,  where  his  valor  and  skill  were  thai 
theme  of  every  tongue,  and  she  had  received  the  homage 
which  he  rendered  her  beauty  when  he  assigned  to  her  the 
prize  with  all  the  gay  flutterings  of  youthful  vanity  ;  but  of 
his  person  and  figure  she  had  no  distinct  idea,  exceptingi 
that  he  was  a  middle-sized  man.  dressed  in  peculiarly  rich! 
armor,  and  that  the  countenance  wliich  looked  out  fromi 
under  the  sliade  of  his  raised  visor  seemed  to  heiMuvenile 
estimate  very  nearly  as  old  as  that  of  her  father.     This  per 


THE  BETROTHED  91 

son,  of  whom  she  had  such  slight  recollection,  had  been  the 
chosen  instrument  employed  by  her  tutelar  protectress  in 
rescuing  her  from  captivity,  and  in  avenging  the  loss  of  a 
father,  and  she  was  bound  by  her  vow  to  consider  him  as  the 
arbiter  of  her  fate,  if  indeed  he  should  deem  it  worth  his 
while  to  become  so.  She  wearied  her  memory  with  vain 
*■'  efforts  to  recollect  so  much  of  his  features  as  might  give  her 
some  means  of  guessing  at  his  disposition,  and  her  judgment 
toiled  in  conjecturing  what  line  of  conduct  he  was  likely  to 
pursue  towards  her. 

The  great  baron  himself  seemed  to  attach  to  their  meeting 

a  degree  of  consequence,  which  was  intimated  by  the  formal 

preparations  which  he  made  for  it.     Eveline  had  imagined 

:     that  he  might  have  ridden  to  the  gate  of  the  castle  in  five 

■  minutes,  and  that,  if  a  pavilion  were  actually  necessary  to 
the  decorum  of  their  interview,  a  tent  could  have  been 
transferred  from  his  leaguer  to  the  castle  gate,  and  pitched 
there  in  ten  minutes  more.  But  it  was  plain  that  the  Con- 
stable considered  much  more  form  and  ceremony  as  essential 
to  their  meeting  ;  for,  in  about  half  an  hour  after  Damian 
de  Lacy  had  left  the  castle,  not  fewer  than  twenty  soldiers 
and  artificers,  under  the  direction  of  a  pursuivant,  whose 
tabard  was  decorated  with  the  armorial  bearings  of  the  house 
of  Lacy,  were  employed  in  erecting  before  tlie  gate  of  the 
Garde  Doloureuse  one  of  those  splendid  pavilions  which 
were  employed  at  tournaments  and  other  occasions  of  public 
state.     It  was  of  purple  silk,  valanced  with  gold  embroidery, 

■  having  the  cords  of  the  same  rich  materials.  The  doorway 
'^■'   was  formed  by  six  lances,  the  staves  of  which  were  plated 

•  with  silver,  and  the  blades  composed   of  the  same  precious 

■  metal.  These  were  pitched  into  the  ground  by  couples,  and 
crossed  at  the  top,  so  as  to  form  a  sort  of  succession  of 
arches,  Avhich  were  covered  by  drapery  of  sea-green  silk, 
forming  a  pleasing  contrast  with  the  purple  and  gold. 

i^"  i  The  interior  of  the  tent  was  declared  by  Dame  Gillian  and 
'f''j  others,  whose  curiosity  induced  them  to  visit  it,  to  be  of  a 
f^'M  splendor  agreeing  with  the  outside.  There  were  Oriental 
'''*  i  carpets,  and  there  were  tapestries  of  Ghent  and  Bruges 
if ';  mingled  in  gay  profusion,  while  the   top  of  the  pavilion, 

*  i  covered  with  sky-blue  silk,  was  arranged  so  as  to  resemble 
I'*  I  the  firmament,  and  richly  studded  with  a  sun,  moon,  and 
■"•   stars,  composed  of  solid  silver.     This  gorgeous  pavilion  had 

been  made  for  the  use  of  the  celebrated  William  of  Ypres, 
'  who  acquired  such  great  wealth  as  general  of  the  mercena- 
i"'''  ■  ries  of  King  Stephen,  and  was  by  him  created  Earl  of  Albe- 


92  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

marie  ;  but  the  chance  of  war  had  assigned  it  to  De  Lacy,  , 
after  one  of  the  dreadful  engagements  so  many  of  which  i 
occurred  during  the  civil  wars  betwixt  Stephen  and  the 
Empress  Maude,  or  Matilda.  The  Constable  had  never  be- 
fore been  known  to  use  it ;  for,  although  wealthy  and  power- 
ful, Hugo  de  Lacy  was,  on  most  occasions,  plain  and  un- 
ostentatious ;  which,  to  those  who  knew  him,  made '  his 
present  conduct  seem  the  more  remarkable.  At  the  hour  of 
noon  he  arrived,  nobly  mounted,  at  the  gate  of  the  castle, 
and  drawing  up  a  small  body  of  servants,  pages,  and  equer- 
ries, who  attended  him  in  their  richest  liveries,  placed  him- 
self at  their  head,  and  directed  his  nephew  to  intimate  to 
the  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  that  the  humblest  of  her 
servants  awaited  the  honor  of  her  presence  at  the  castle 
gate. 

Among  the  spectators  who  witnessed  his  arrival,  there 
were  many  who  thought  that  some  part  of  the  state  and  J 
splendor  attached  to  his  pavilion  and  his  retinue  had  been 
better  applied  to  set  forth  the  person  of  the  Constable  him- 
self, as  his  attire  was  simple  even  to  meanness,  and  his  per- 
son by  no  means  of  such  distinguished  bearing  as  might 
altogether  dispense  with  the  advantages  of  dress  and  orna- 
ment. The  opinion  became  yet  more  prevalent  when  he 
descended  from  horseback,  until  which  time  his  masterly 
management  of  the  noble  animal  he  bestrode  gave  a  dignity 
to  his  person  and  figure  which  he  lost  upon  dismounting 
from  his  steel  saddle.  In  height,  the  celebrated  Constable 
scarce  attained  the  middle  size,  and  his  limbs,  though 
strongiy  built  and  well  knit,  were  deficient  in  grace  and  I 
ease  of  movement.  His  legs  were  slightly  curved  outwards, 
which  gave  liim  advantage  as  a  horseman,  but  showed  un- 
favorably when  he  was  upon  foot.  He  halted,  though  very 
slightly,  in  consequence  of  one  of  his  legs  having  been 
broken  by  the  fall  of  a  charger,  and  inartificially  set  by  an 
inexperienced  surgeon.  This,  also,  was  a  blemish  in  his 
deportment ;  and  though  his  broad  shoulders,  sinewy  arms, 
and  expanded  chest  betokened  the  strength  which  he  often 
displayed,  it  was  strength  of  a  clumsy  and  ungraceful  char- 
acter. His  language  and  gestures  were  those  of  one  seldom 
used  to  converse  with  equals,  more  seldom  still  with  supe- 
riors— short,  abrupt,  and  decisive,  almost  to  the  verge  of 
sternness.  In  the  judgment  of  those  who  were  habitually 
acquainted  with  the  Constable,  there  was  both  dignity  and 
kindness  in  his  keen  eye  and  expanded  brow ;  but  such  as 
saw  him  for  the  first  time  judged  less  favorably,  and  pre- 


TEE  BETROTHED  93 

tended  to  discover  a  harsh  and  passionate  expression, 
although  they  allowed  his  countenance  to  have,  on  the 
whole,  a  bold  and  martial  character.  His  age  was  in  reality 
not  more  than  five-and-forty,  but  the  fatigues  of  war  and  of 
climate  had  added  in  appearance  ten  years  to  that  period  of 
time.  By  far  the  jjlainest  dressed  man  of  his  train,  he  wore 
only  a  short  Norman  mantle  over  the  close  dress  of  shamoy 
leather,  which,  almost  always  covered  by  his  armor,  was  in 
some  places  slightly  soiled  by  its  pressure.  A  brown  hat,  in 
which  he  wore  a  sprig  of  rosemary  in  memory  of  his  vow, 
served  for  his  head-gear  ;  his  good  sword  and  dagger  hung 
at  a  belt  made  of  seal-skin. 

Thus  accoutered,  and  at  the  head  of  a  glittering  and  gilded 
band  of  retainers,  who  watched  his  slightest  glance,  the  Con- 
stable of  Chester  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  Lady  Eveline 
Berenger  at  the  gate  of  her  castle  of  Garde  Dolou reuse. 

The  trumpets  from  within  announced  her  presence,  the 
bridge  fell,  and,  led  by  Damian  de  Lacy  in  his  gayest  habit, 
and  followed  by  her  train  of  females  and  menial  or  vassal 
attendants,  she  came  forth  in  her  loveliness  from  under  the 
massive  and  antique  portal  of  her  paternal  fortress.  She 
was  dressed  without  ornaments  of  any  khid,  and  in  deep 
mourning  weeds,  as  best  befitted  lier  recent  loss  ;  forming, 
in  this  respect,  a  strong  contrast  with  the  rich  attire  of  her 
conductor,  whose  costly  dress  gleamed  with  jewels  and  em- 
broidery, while  their  age  and  personal  beauty  made  them  in 
every  other  respect  the  fair  counterpart  of  each  other — a 
circumstance  which  probably  gave  rise  to  the  delighted  mur- 
mur and  buzz  which  passed  through  the  bystanders  on  their 
appearance,  and  which  only  respect  for  the  deep  mourning 
of  Eveline  prevented  from  breaking  out  into  shouts  of  ap- 
plause. 

The  instant  that  the  fair  foot  of  Eveline  had  made  a  step 
beyond  the  palisades  which  formed  the  outward  barrier  of 
the  castle,  the  Constable  de  Lacy  came  forward  to  meet  her, 
and,  bending  his  right  knee  to  the  earth,  craved  pardon  for 
the  discourtesy  which  his  vow  had  imposed  on  him,  while 
he  expressed  his  sense  of  the  honor  with  which  she  now 
graced  him  as  one  for  which  his  life,  devoted  to  her  service, 
would  be  an  inadequate  acknowledgment. 

The  action  and  speech,  though  both  in  consistence  with 
the  romantic  gallantry  of  the  times,  embarrassed  Eveline, 
and  the  rather  that  this  homage  was  so  publicly  rendered. 
She  entreated  the  Constable  to  stand  up,  and  not  to  add  to 
the  confusion  of  one  who  was  already  sufficiently  at  a  loss 


94  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

how  to  acquit  herself  of  the  heavy  debt  of  gratitude  which 
she  owed  him.  The  Constable  arose  accordingly,  after  salut- 
ing her  hand,  which  she  extended  to  him,  and  prayed  her, 
since  she  was  so  far  condescending,  to  deign  to  enter  the 
poor  hut  he  had  prepared  for  her  shelter,  and  to  grant  him 
the  honor  of  the  audience  he  had  solicited.  Eveline,  with- 
out further  answer  than  a  bow,  yielded  him  her  hand,  and, 
desiring  the  rest  of  her  train  to  remain  where  they  were, 
commanded  the  attendance  of  Itose  Flammock. 

"  Lady,"  said  the  Constable,  "  the  matters  of  which  I  am 
compelled  thus  hastily  to  speak  are  of  a  nature  the  most 
private." 

"  This  maiden,"  replied  Eveline,  ''  is  my  bower-woman, 
and  acquainted  with  my  most  inward  thoughts  ;  I  beseech 
you  to  permit  her  presence  at  our  conference." 

"It  were  better  otherwise,"  said  Hugo  de  Lacy,  with 
some  embarrassment  ;  "  but  your  pleasure  shall  be  obeyed." 

He  led  the  Lady  Eveline  into  the  tent,  and  entreated  her 
to  be  seated  on  a  large  pile  of  cushions,  covered  with  rich 
Venetian  silk.  Rose  placed  herself  behind  her  mistress,  half 
kneeling  upon  the  same  cushions,  and  watched  the  motions 
of  the  all-accomplished  soldier  and  statesman,  whom  the  voice 
of  fame  lauded  so  loudly,  enjoying  his  embarrassment  as  a 
triumph  of  her  sex,  and  scarcely  of  opinion  that  his  shamoy 
doublet  and  square  form  accorded  with  the  splendor  of  the 
scene,  or  the  almost  angelic  beauty  of  Eveline,  the  other 
actor  therein. 

"  Lady,"  said  the  Constable,  after  some  hesitation,  "  I 
would  willingly  say  what  it  is  my  lot  to  tell  you  in  such 
terras  as  ladies  love  to  listen  to,  and  which  surely  your  ex- 
cellent beauty  more  especially  deserves  ;  but  I  have  been  too 
long  trained  in  camps  and  councils  to  express  my  meaning 
otherwise  than  simply  and  plainly." 

"  I  shall  the  more  easily  understand  you,  my  lord,"  said 
Eveline,  trembling,  though  she  scarce  knew  why. 

"  My  story,  then,  must  be  a  blunt  one.  Something  there 
passed  between  your  honorable  father  and  myself,  touching 
a  union  of  our  houses."  He  paused,  as  if  he  wished  or  ex- 
pected Eveline  to  say  something,  but,  as  she  was  silent,  he 
proceeded.  "  I  would  to  God  that,  as  he  was  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  treaty,  it  had  pleased  Heaven  he  should  have 
conducted  and  concluded  it  with  his  usual  wisdom  ;  but 
what  remedy  ?  he  has  gone  the  path  which  we  must  all  tread." 

"  Your  lordship,"  said  Eveline,  "  has  nobly  avenged  the 
death  of  your  noble  friend." 


THE  BETROTHED  95 

'*  I  have  but  done  my  devoir,  lady,  as  a  good  l^night  in 
defense  of  an  endangered  maiden,  a  Lord  Marcher  in  pro- 
tection of  the  frontier,  and  a  friend  in  avenging  his  friend. 
But  to  the  point.  Our  long  and  noble  line  draws  near  to  a 
close.  Of  my  remote  kinsman,  Kandal  Lacy,  I  will  not 
speak  ;  for  in  him  I  see  nothing  that  is  good  or  hopeful,  nor 
have  we  been  at  one  for  many  years.  My  nephew,  Damian, 
gives  hopeful  promise  to  be  a  worthy  branch  of  our  ancient 
tree ;  but  he  is  scarce  twenty  years  old,  and  hath  a  long 
career  of  adventure  and  peril  to  encounter  ere  he  can  hon- 
orably propose  to  himself  the  duties  of  domestic  privacy  or 
matrimonial  engagements.  His  mother  also  is  English, 
some  abatement  perhaps  in  the  escutcheon  of  his  arms  ;  yet, 
had  ten  years  more  passed  over  him  with  the  honors  of 
chivalry,  I  should  have  proposed  Damian  de  Lacy  for  the 
happiness  to  which  I  at  present  myself  aspire." 

''  You — you,  my  lord  !  it  is  impossible  !  "  said  Eveline, 
endeavoring  at  tlie  same  time  to  suppress  all  that  could  be 
offensive  in  the  surprise  which  she  could  not  help  exhibit- 
ing. 

"  I  do  not  wonder,"  replied  the  Constable,  calmly,  for, 
the  ice  now  being  broken,  he  resumed  the  natural  steadi- 
ness of  his  manner  and  character — "  that  you  express  sur- 
prise at  this  daring  proposal.  I  have  not  perhaps  the  form 
that  pleases  a  lady's  eye,  and  I  have  forgotten — that  is,  if 
ever  I  knew  them — the  terms  and  phrases  which  please  a 
lady's  ear  ;  but,  noble  Eveline,  the  lady  of  Hugo  de  Lacy  will 
be  one  of  the  foremost  among  the  matronage  of  England," 

''  It  will  the  better  become  the  individual  to  whom  so 
high  a  dignity  is  offered,"  said  Eveline,  "  to  consider  how 
far  she  is  capable  of  discharging  its  duties," 

"  Of  that  I  fear  nothing,"  said  De  Lacy.  *'  She  who 
hath  been  so  excellent  a  daughter  cannot  be  less  estimable 
in  every  other  relation  in  life." 

"  I  do  not  find  that  confidence  in  myself,  my  lord,"  re- 
plied the  embarrassed  maiden,  "  with  which  you  are  so  will- 
ing to  load  me.  And  I — forgive  me — must  crave  time  for 
other  inquiries  as  well  as  those  which  respect  myself," 

"  Your  father,  noble  lady,  had  this  union  warmly  at 
heart.  This  scroll,  signed  with  his  own  hand,  will  show  it." 
He  bent  his  knee  as  he  gave  the  paper.  "  The  wife  of  De 
Lacy  will  have,  as  the  daughter  of  Raymond  Berenger 
merits,  the  rank  of  a  princess  ;  his  widow,  the  dowry  of  a 
queen." 

"  Mock  me  not  with  your  knee,  my  lord,  while  you  plead 


96  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  me  the  paternal  commands,  which,  joined  to  other  cir- 
cumstances  "    she  paused,  and  sighed   deeply — "  leave 

me,  perhaps,  but  little  room  for  free-will  I  " 

Emboldened  by  this  answer,  De  Lacy,  who  had  hitherto 
remained  on  his  knee,  rose  gently,  and  assuming  a  seat  be- 
side the  Lady  Eveline,  continued  to  press  his  suit — not, 
indeed,  in  the  language  of  passion,  but  of  a  plain-spoken 
man,  eagerly  urging  a  proposal  on  which  his  happiness 
depended.  The  vision  of  the  miraculous  image  was,  it 
may  be  supposed,  uppermost  in  the  mind  of  Eveline,  wdio, 
tied  down  by  the  solemn  vow  she  had  made  on  that  occasion, 
felt  herself  constrained  to  return  evasive  answ^ers,  where  she 
might  perhaps  have  given  a  direct  negative,  had  her  own 
wishes  alone  been  to  decide  her  reply. 

"  You  cannot,"  she  said,  "  expect  from  me,  my  lord,  in 
this  my  so  recent  orphan  state,  that  I  should  come  to  a 
speedy  determination  upon  an  affair  of  such  deep  import- 
ance. Give  me  leisure  of  your  nobleness  for  consideration 
with  myself — for  consultation  with  my  friends." 

"  Alas  !  fair  Eveline,"  said  the  baron,  "  do  not  be  offended 
at  my  urgency.  I  cannot  long  delay  setting  forward  on  a 
distant  and  perilous  expedition  ;  and  the  short  time  left  zne 
for  soliciting  your  favor  must  be  an  apology  for  my  im- 
portunity." 

"  And  is  it  in  these  circumstances,  noble  De  Lacy,  that 
you  would  encumber  yourself  with  family  ties  ?"  asked  the 
maiden,  timidly. 

"I  am  God's  soldier,"  said  the  Constable,  "and  He  in 
wdiose  cause  I  fight  in  Palestine  will  defend  my  Avife  in 
England." 

"■  Hear  then  my  present  answer,  my  Lord,"  said  Eveline 
Berenger,  rising  from  her  seat.  "  To-morrow  I  proceed  to 
the  Benedictine  nunnery  at  Gloucester,  where  resides  my 
honored  father's  sister,  who  is  abbess  of  that  reverend  house. 
To  her  guidance  I  will  commit  myself  in  this  matter." 

"A  fair  and  maidenly  resolution,"  answered  De  Lacy, 
who  seemed,  on  his  part,  rither  glad  that  the  conference 
was  abridged,  "  and,  as  I  trust,  not  altogether  unfavorable 
to  the  suit  of  your  humble  suppliant,  since  the  good  lady 
abbess  hath  been  long  my  honored  friend.''  He  then  turned 
to  Rose,  who  w^as  about  to  attend  her  lady.  '•  Pretty 
maiden,"  he  said,  offering  a  chain  of  gold,  "  let  this  car- 
canet  encircle  thy  neck  and  buy  thy  good-will." 

"  My  good-will  cannot  be  purchased,  my  lord,"  saidRose^ 
putting  back  the  gift  which  he  proffered. 


THE  BEIBOIEEB  97 

"Your  fair  word  then/'  said  the  Constable,  again  pressing 
it  upon  her. 

"  Fair  words  are  easily  bought,"  said  Eose,  still  rejecting 
the  chain,  "  but  they  are  seldom  worth  the  purchase- 
money." 

"  Do  you  scorn  my  proffer,  damsel  ?"  said  De  Lacy  ;  **it 
has  graced  the  neck  of  a  Norman  count." 

"  Give  it  to  a  Norman  countess,  then,  my  lord,"  said  the 
damsel.  "  I  am  plain  Rose  Flammock,  the  weaver's  daugh- 
ter. I  keep  my  good  word  to  go  with  my  good-will,  and  a 
latten  chain  will  become  me  as  well  as  beaten  gold." 

"  Peace,  Rose,"  said  her  lady  ;  "  you  are  over  malapert  to 
talk  thus  to  the  Lord  Constable.  And  you,  my  lord,"  she 
continued,  "■  permit  me  now  to  depart,  since  you  are  pos- 
sessed of  my  answer  to  your  present  proposal.  I  regret  it 
had  not  been  of  some  less  delicate  nature,  that,  by  granting 
it  at  once,  and  without  delay,  I  might  have  shown  my  sense 
of  your  services." 

The  lady  was  handed  forth  by  the  Constable  of  Chester 
with  the  same  ceremony  which  had  been  observed  at  their 
entrance,  and  she  returned  to  her  own  castle,  sad  and  anx- 
ious in  mind  for  the  event  of  this  important  coxiference. 
She  gathered  closely  around  her  the  great  mourning-veil, 
that  the  alteration  of  her  countenance  might  not  be  ob- 
served ;  and,  without  pausing  to  speak  even  to  Father 
Aldrovand,  she  instantly  withdrew  to  the  privacy  of  her 
own  bower. 
7 


CHAPTER  XII 

Now  all  ye  ladies  of  fair  Scotland, 
And  ladies  of  England,  that  happy  would  prove, 

Marry  never  for  houses,  nor  marry  for  land, 
Nor  marry  for  nothing  but  only  love. 

Family  Quarrels. 

When  the  Lady  Eveline  had  retired  into  her  own  private 
chamber,  Rose  Fhimniock  followed  her  unbidden,  and  prof- 
fered her  assistance  in  removing  the  large  veil  which  she  had 
worn  while  she  was  abroad  ;  but  the  lady  refused  her  per- 
mission, saying,  "You  are  forward  with  service,  maiden, 
when  it  is  not  required  of  you." 

"  You  are  displeased  with  me,  lady  ! "  said  Rose. 

"And  if  I  am,  I  have  cause,"  replied  Eveline.  **You 
know  my  difficulties,  you  know  what  my  duty  demands  ;  yet, 
instead  of  aiding  me  to  make  the  sacrifice,  you  render  it 
more  difficult." 

"  Would  I  had  influence  to  guide  your  path  I"  said  Rose  ; 
**you  should  find  it  a  smooth  one — ay,  an  honest  and 
straight  one  to  boot." 

"How  mean  you,  maiden  !"  said  Eveline. 

*'  I  would  have  you,"  answered  Rose,  "  recall  the  encour- 
agement— the  consent,  I  may  almost  call  it — you  have 
yielded  to  this  proud  baron.  He  is  too  great  to  be  loved 
himself,  too  haughty  to  love  you  as  you  deserve.  If  you 
wed  him,  you  wed  gilded  misery,  and,  it  may  be,  dishonor  as 
well  as  discontent." 

"Remember,  damsel,"  answered  Eveline  Berenger,  "his 
services  towards  us." 

"  His  services  ! "  answered  Rose.  "  He  ventured  his  life 
for  us,  indeed,  but  so  did  every  soldier  in  his  host.  And  am 
I  bound  to  wed  any  ruffling  blade  among  them,  because  he 
fought  when  the  trumpet  sounded  ?  I  wonder  what  is  the 
meaning  of  their  devoir,  as  they  call  it,  when  it  shames 
them  not  to  claim  the  highest  reward  woman  can  be- 
stow, merely  for  discharging  the  duty  of  a  gentleman  by  a 
distressed  creature.  A  gentleman,  said  I  ?  The  coarsest 
boor  in  Flanders  would  hardly  expect  thanks  for  doing  the 
duty  of  a  man  by  women  in  such  a  case," 


THE  BETROTHED  99 

"But  my  father's  wishes  ?"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  They  had  reference,  without  douht,  to  the  inclination  of 
your  father's  daughter/'  answered  the  attendant.  "  I  will 
not  do  my  late  noble  lord — may  God  assoilzie  him  ! — the  in- 
justice to  suppose  he  would  have  urged  aught  in  this  manner 
which  squared  not  with  yoar  free  choice." 

''  Then  my  vow — my  fatal  vow,  as  I  had  wellnigh  called 
it,"  said  Eveline.  "  May  Heaven  forgive  me  my  ingratitude 
to  my  patroness  ! " 

"  Even  this  shakes  me  not,"  said  Rose.  "  I  -will  never 
believe  our  Lady  of  Mercy  would  exact  such  a  penalty  for 
her  protection  as  to  desire  me  to  wed  the  man  I  could  not 
love.  She  smiled,  you  say,  upon  your  prayer.  Go,  lay  at 
her  feet  these  difficulties  which  oppress  you,  and  sec  if  she 
will  not  smile  again.  Or  seek  a  dispensation  from  your  vow 
— seek  it  at  the  expense  of  half  of  your  estate — seek  it  at  the 
expense  of  your  whole  property.  Go  a  pilgrimage  barefooted 
to  Rome — do  anything  but  give  your  hand  where  you  cannot; 
give  your  heart." 

"  You  speak  warmly,  Rose,"  said  Eveline,  still  sighing  as 
she  spoke. 

"  Alas  !  my  sweet  lady,  I  have  cause.  Have  I  not  seen  a 
household  where  love  was  not — where,  although  there  was 
worth  and  good-will,  and  enough  of  the  means  of  life,  all  was 
embittered  by  regrets,  which  were  not  only  vain,  but  crim- 
inal ?" 

"Yet,  methinks,Rose,  a  sense  of  what  is  due  to  ourselves 
and  others  may,  if  listened  to,  guide  and  comfort  us  under 
such  feelings  even  as  thou  hast  described." 

"  It  will  save  us  from  sin,  lady,  but  not  from  sorrow,"  an- 
swered Rose  ;  "  and  wherefore  should  we,  with  our  eyes 
open,  rush  into  circumstances  where  duty  must  war  with 
inclination  !  Why  row  against  wind  and  tide,  when  you 
may  as  easily  take  advantage  of  tlie  breeze  ?" 

"  Because  the  voyage  of  my  life  lies  where  winds  and  cur- 
rents oppose  me,"  answered  Eveline.    ''It  is  my  fate.  Rose." 

"  Not  unless  you  make  it  such  by  choice,"  answered  Rose. 

"  0,  could  you  but  have  seen  the  pale  cheek,  sunken  eye,  and 
dejected  bearing  of  my  poor  mother!    I  have  said  too  much." 

*' It  was  then  your  mother,"  said  her  young  lady,  "of 
whose  unhappy  wedlock  you  have  spoken  ?  " 

"  It  was — it  was,"  said  Rose,  bursting  into  tears.  ''  Ihave 
exposed  my  own  shame  to  save  you  from  sorrow.  Unhappy 
she  was,  though  most  guiltless — so  unhappy,  that  the  breach 
of  the  dyke,  and  the  inundation  in  which  she  perished,  were, 


100  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

but  for  my  saKe,  to  her  welcome  as  night  to  the  weary 
laborer.  She  had  a  heart  like  yours,  formed  to  love  and  to 
be  loved  ;  and  it  would  be  doing  honor  to  yonder  proud 
baron  to  say  he  had  such  worth  as  my  father's.  Yet  was 
she  most  unhappy.  0  !  my  sweet  lady,  be  warned,  and 
break  off  this  ill-omened  match  ! " 

Eveline  returned  the  pressure  with  which  the  affectionate 
girl,  as  she  clung  to  her  hand,  enforced  her  well-meant  ad- 
vice, and  then  muttered,  with  a  profound  sigh,  "  Eose,  it  is 
too  late.'* 

"  Never — never,"  said  Rose,  looking  eagerly  round  the 
room.  "  Where  are  those  writing-materials  ?  Let  me  bring 
Father  Aldrovand,  and  instruct  him  for  your  pleasure  ;  or 
stay,  the  good  father  hatli  himself  an  eye  on  the  splendors 
of  the  world  which  he  thinks  he  has  abandoned — he  Avill  be 
no  safe  secretary.  I  will  go  myself  to  the  Lord  Constable  ; 
ine  his  rank  cannot  dazzle,  or  his  wealth  bribe,  or  his  power 
overawe.  I  will  tell  him  he  doth  no  knightly  part  towards 
you,  to  press  his  contract  with  your  father  in  such  an  hour 
of  helpless  sorrow  ;  no  pious  part,  in  delaying  the  execution 
of  liis  vows  for  the  purpose  of  marrying  or  giving  in  mar- 
riage ;  no  honest  part,  to  press  himself  on  a  maiden  whose 
heart  has  not  decided  in  his  favor  ;  no  wise  part  to  marry 
one  whom  he  must  presently  abandon  either  to  solitude  or 
to  the  dangers  of  a  profligate  court." 

"  You  have  not  courage  for  such  an  embassy.  Rose,"  said 
her  mistress,  sadly  smiling  through  her  tears  at  her  youth- 
ful attendant's  zeal. 

"  Not  courage  for  it !  and  wherefore  not  ?  Try  me,"  an- 
swered the  Flemish  maiden,  in  return.  "  I  am  neither 
Saracen  or  Welshman  :  his  lance  and  sword  scare  me  not. 
I  follow  not  his  banner  :  his  voice  of  command  concerns  me 
not.  1  could,  with  your  leave,  boldly  tell  him  he  is  a  selfish 
man,  veiling  with  fair  and  honorable  pretext  his  pursuit  of 
fibjects  which  concern  his  own  pride  and  gratification,  and 
founding  high  claims  on  having  rendered  the  services  which 
common  humanity  demanded.  And  all  for  what  ?  Forsooth, 
the  great  De  Lacy  must  have  an  heir  to  his  noble  house,  and 
his  fair  nephew  is  not  good  enough  to  be  his  representative, 
because  his  mother  was  of  Anglo-Saxon  strain,  and  the  real 
heir  must  be  pure  unmixed  Norman  ;  and  for  this  Lady 
Evelina  Berenger,  in  the  first  bloom  of  youth,  must  be  wed- 
ded to  a  man  who  might  be  her  father,  and  who,  after  leaving 
her  unprotected  for  years,  will  return  in  such  guise  as  might 
beseem  her  grandfather  ! " 


THE  BETRO'^HnD  101 

'*  Since  he  is  thus  scrupulous  concerning  purity  of  line- 
age/' said  Eveline,  ''perhaps  he  may  call  to  mind — what 
80  good  a  herald  as  he  is  cannot  fail  to  know — that  I  am  of 
Saxon  strain  by  my  father's  mother," 

*' Oh,"  replied  Rose,  "he  will  forgive  that  blot  in  the 
heiress  of  the  Garde  Dolou reuse/' 

"  Fie,  Rose/'  answered  her  mistress,  "  thou  dost  him 
wrong  in  taxing  him  with  avarice/' 

"  Perhaps  so/'  answered  Rose  ;  "  but  he  is  undeniably 
ambitious  ;  and  avarice,  I  have  heard,  is  ambition's  bastard 
brother,  though  ambition  be  sometimes  ashamed  of  the  rela- 
tionship/' 

"  You  speak  too  boldly,  damsel,"  said  Eveline  ;  *'and,  while 
I  acknowledge  your  affection,  it  becomes  me  to  check  your 
mode  of  expression/' 

"Nay,  take  that  tone,  and  I  have  done,"  said  Rose.  *'To 
Eveline,  whom  I  love,  and  who  loves  me,  I  can  speak  freely  ; 
but  to  the  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  the  prond  Norman 
damsel — which  when  you  choose  to  be  you  can  be — I  can 
courtesy  as  low  as  my  station  demands,  and  speak  as  little 
truth  as  she  cares  to  hear/' 

"  Thou  art  a  wild  but  a  kind  girl,"  said  Eveline,  "  no  one 
who  did  not  know  thee  would  think  that  soft  and  childish 
exterior  covered  such  a  soul  of  fire.  Thy  mother  must  in- 
deed have  been  the  being  of  feeling  and  passion  you  paint 
her  ;  for  thy  father — nay,  nay,  never  arm  in  his  defense  un- 
til he  be  attacked — I  only  meant  to  say,  that  his  solid  sense 
and  sound  judgment  are  his  most  distinguished  qualities/' 

"  And  I  would  you  would  avail  yourself  of  them,  lady," 
said  Rose. 

"  In  fitting  things  I  will ;  but  he  were  rather  an  unmeet 
counselor  in  that  which  we  now  treat  of,"  said  Eveline. 

"You  mistake  him,"  answered  Rose  Elammock,  "  and 
underrate  his  value.  Sound  judgment  is  like  to  the  grad- 
uated measuring-wand,  which,  though  usually  applied  only 
to  coarser  cloths,  will  give  with  equal  truth  the  dimensions 
of  Indian  silk  or  of  cloth  of  gold." 

"Well — well,  this  affair  presses  not  instantly  at  least," 
said  the  young  lady.  "  Leave  me  now.  Rose,  and  send  Gil- 
lian, the  tirewoman,  hither  ;  I  have  directions  to  give  about 
the  packing  and  removal  of  my  wardrobe." 

**  That  Gillian  the  tirewoman  hath  been  a  mighty  favorite 
of  late/'  said  Rose  ;  "  time  was  when  it  was  otherwise." 

"  I  like  her  manners  as  little  as  thou  dost,"  said  Eveline  ; 
"  but  she  is  old  Raoul's  wife  :  she  was  a  sort  of  half-favorite 


102  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

with  ray  dear  father,  who,  like  other  men,  was  perhaps  taken 
by  that  very  freedom  which  we  think  unseeml}^  in  persons  of 
our  sex  ;  and  then  there  is  no  otlier  woman  in  the  castle  that 
hath  such  skill  in  cmpacketing  clothes  without  the  risk  of 
their  being  injured." 

*'  That  last  reason  alone,"  said  Eose,  smiling,  "is,  I  ad- 
mit, an  irresistible  pretension  to  favor,  and  Dame  Gillian 
shall  presently  attend  you.  But  take  my  advice,  lady  :  keep 
her  to  her  bales  and  her  mails,  and  let  her  not  prate  to  you 
on  what  concerns  her  not." 

So  saying,  Eose  left  the  apartment,  and  her  young  lady 
looked  after  her  in  silence,  then  murmured  to  herself — 
"  Eose  loves  me  truly  ;  but  she  would  willingly  be  more  of 
the  mistress  than  the  maiden  ;  and  then  she  is  somewhat 
jealous  of  every  other  person  that  approaches  me.  It  is 
strange  that  I  have  not  seen  Damian  de  Lacy  since  my  inter- 
view with  the  Constable.  He  anticipates,  I  suppose,  the 
chance  of  his  finding  in  me  a  severe  aunt !" 

But  the  domestics,  who  crowded  for  orders  with  reference 
to  her  removal  early  on  the  morrow,  began  now  to  divert  the 
current  of  their  lady's  thoughts  from  the  consideration  of 
her  own  particular  situation,  which,  as  the  prospect  pre- 
sented nothing  pleasant,  with  the  elastic  spirit  of  youth,  she 
willingly  postponed  till  further  leisure. 


CHAPTER  Xm 

Too  mucli  rest  is  rust, 

There's  ever  cheer  in  changing ; 
We  tyne  by  too  much  trust, 

So  we'll  be  up  and  ranging. 

Old  Song. 

JEarly  on  the  subsequent  morning,  a  gallant  company,  sad- 
dened indeed  by  the  deep  mourning  which  their  principals 
wore,  left  the  well-defended  Castle  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse, 
which  had  been  so  lately  the  scene  of  such  remarkable 
events. 

The  sun  was  just  beginning  to  exhale  the  heavy  dews 
which  had  fallen  during  the  night,  and  to  disperse  the  thin 
gray  mist  which  eddied  around  towers  and  battlements,  when 
Wilkin  Flammock,  with  six  cross-bowmen  on  horseback,  and 
as  many  spearmen  on  foot,  sallied  forth  from  under  the 
Gothic  gateway,  and  crossed  the  sounding  drawbridge.  After 
this  advanced  guard  came  four  household  servants  well 
mounted,  and  after  them  as  many  inferior  female  attendants, 
all  in  mourning.  Then  rode  forth  the  young  Lady  Eveline 
herself,  occupying  the  center  of  the  little  procession,  and 
her  long  black  robes  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  the  color 
of  her  milk-white  palfrey.  Beside  her,  on  a  Spanish  jennet, 
the  gift  of  her  affectionate  father — who  had  procured  it  at  a 
high  rate,  and  who  would  have  given  half  his  substance  to 
gratify  his  daughter — sat  the  girlish  form  of  Eose  Flam- 
mock,  who  had  so  much  of  juvenile  shyness  in  her  manner, 
so  much  of  feeling  and  of  judgment  in  her  thoughts  and 
actions.  Dame  Margery  followed,  mixed  in  the  party  es- 
corted by  Father  Aldrovand,  whose  company  she  chiefly 
frequented  ;  for  Margery  affected*  a  little  the  character  of 
the  devotee,  and  her  influence  in  the  family,  as  having  been 
Eveline's  nurse,  was  so  great  as  to  render  her  no  improper 
companion  for  the  chaplain,  when  her  lady  did  not  require 
her  attendance  on  her  own  person.  Then  came  old  Eaonl 
the  huntsman,  his  wife,  and  two  or  three  other  officers  of 
Raymond  Berenger's  household  ;  the  steward,  with  his  golden 
chain,  velvet  cassock,  and  white  wand,  bringing  up  the  rear, 
which  was  closed  by  a  small  band  of  archers  and  four  men- 
103 


104  '         WAVERLET  N0VSL8 

at-arms.  The  guards,  and  indeed  the  greater  part  of  the 
attendants,  were  only  designed  to  give  the  necessary  degree 
of  honor  to  the  young  lady's  movements,  by  accompanymg 
her  a  short  space  from  the  castle,  where  they  were  met  by 
the  Constable  of  Chester,  who,  with  a  retinue  of  thu'ty 
lances,  proposed  himself  to  escort  Eveline  as  far  as  Glouces- 
ter, the  place  of  her  destination.  Under  his  protection  no 
danger  was  to  be  apprehended,  even  if  the  severe  defeat  so 
lately  sustained  bv  the  Welsh  had  not  of  itself  been  likely  to 
prevent  any  attempt,  on  the  part  of  those  hostile  moun- 
taineers, to  disturb  the  safety  of  the  marches  for  some  time 

to  come.  -,,   J  t.^ 

In  pursuance  of  this  arrangement,  which  permitted  the 
armed  part  of  Eveline's  retinue  to  return  for  the  protection 
of  the  castle,  and  the  restoration  of  order  in  the  district 
around,  the  Constable  awaited  her  at  the  fatal  bridge,  at  the 
head  of  the  gallant  band  of  selected  horsemen  whom  he  had 
ordered  to  attend  upon  him.  The  parties  halted,  as  if  to 
salute  each  other  ;  but  the  Constable,  observing  that  Eveline 
drew  her  veil  more  closely  around  her,  and  recollecting  the 
loss  she  had  so  lately  sustained  on  that  luckless  spot,  had  the 
judgment  to  confine  his  greeting  to  a  mute  reverence,  so 
low1:hat  the  lofty  plume  which  he  wore  (for  he  was  now  in 
complete  armor)  minded  with  the  flowing  mane  of  his  gal- 
lant horse.  Wilkin  Flammock  next  halted,  to  ask  the  lady 
if  slie  had  any  farther  commands. 

"  None,  good  Wilkin,"  said  Eveline  ;  "but  to  be,  as  ever, 
true  and  watchful."  ,       .  -,    -,^,  i 

"The  properties  of  a  good  mastiff,"  said  l^lammock. 
"  Some  rude  sagacity,  and  a  stout  hand  instead  of  a  sharp 
case  of  teeth,  are  all  that  I  can  claim  to  be  added  to  them. 
I  will  do  my  best.  Fare  thee  well,  Roschen  !  Thou  art 
going  among  strangers  ;  forget  not  the  qualities  which  made 
thee  loved  at  home.     The  saints  bless  thee— farewell !  "    ^ 

The  steward  next  approached  to  take  his   leave,  but  in 
doino-  so,  had  nearly  met  with  a  fatal   accident.       It  had 
been^the  pleasure  of  Raoul,  who  was  in  his   own   disposi- 
tion cross-orained,  and  in  person  rheumatic,  to  accommo- 
date   himself    with    an    old    Arab   horse,  which    had    been  M 
kept    for    the   sake    of    the   breed,  as  lean,  and  almost  as  m 
lame,  as  himself,  and  with  a    temper   as   vicious    as    that  ' 
of  a  fiend.       Betwixt  the  rider  and  the  horse  was  a  con- 
stant misunderstanding,  testified  on  Raoul's  part  by  oaths, 
rough  checks  with  the  curb,  and  severe  digging  with  the 
epurs,  which  Mahound  (so  pagauishly  was  the  horse  named) 


**The  Constable  awaited  her  at  the  fatal  bridge." 


THE  BETROTHED  105 

answered  by  pluncjing,  bounding,  and  endeavoring  by  all  ex- 
pedients to  unseat  his  rider,  as  well  as  striking  and  lashing  out 
furiously  at  whatever  else  approached  him.  It  was  thought 
by  many  of  the  household  that  Raoul  preferred  this  vicious, 
cross-tempered  animal  upon  all  occasions  when  he  traveled 
in  company  with  his  wife,  in  order  to  take  advantage  by  the 
chance  that,  amongst  the  various  kicks,  plunges,  gambades, 
lashings  out,  and  other  eccentricities  of  Mahound,  his  heela 
might  come  in  contact  with  Dame  Gillian's  ribs.  And  now, 
when  as  the  important  steward  spurred  up  his  palfrey  to  kiss 
his  young  lady's  hand,  and  to  take  his  leave,  it  seemed  to  the 
bystanders  as  if  Raoul  so  managed  his  bridle  and  spur,  that 
Mahound  jerked  out  his  hoofs  at  the  same  moment,  one  of 
which  coming  in  contact  with  the  steward's  thigh,  would 
have  splintered  it  like  a  rotten  reed,  had  tlie  parties  been  a 
couple  of  inches  nearer  to  each  other.  As  it  was,  the  stew- 
ard sustained  considerable  damage  ;  and  they  that  observed 
the  grin  upon  Raoul's  vinegar  countenance  entertained  little 
doubt  that  Mahound's  heels  then  and  there  avenged  certain 
nods,  winks,  and  wreathed  smiles  which  had  passed  betwixt 
the  gold-chained  functionary  and  the  coquettish  tirewoman 
since  the  party  left  the  castle. 

This  incident  abridged  the  painful  solemnity  of  parting 
betwixt  the  Lady  Eveline  and  her  dependants,  and  lessened 
at  the  same  time  the  formality  of  her  meeting  with  the  Con- 
stable, and,  as  it  were,  resigning  herself  to  his  protection. 

Hugo  de  Lacy,  having  commanded  six  of  his  men-at-arms 
to  proceed  as  an  advanced  guard,  remained  himself  to  see  the 
steward  properly  deposited  on  a  litter,  and  then,  with  the 
rest  of  his  followers,  marched  in  military  fashion  about  one 
hundred  yards  in  the  rear  of  Lady  Eveline  and  her  retinue, 
judiciously  forbearing  to  present  himself  to  her  society  while 
she  was  engaged  in  the  orisons  which  the  place  where  they 
met  naturally  suggested,  and  waiting  patiently  until  the 
elasticity  of  youthful  temper  should  require  some  diversion 
of  the  gloomy  thoughts  which  the  scene  inspired. 

Guided  by  this  policy,  the  Constable  did  not  approach  the 
ladies  until  the  advance  of  the  morning  rendered  it  politeness 
to  remind  them  that  a  pleasant  spot  for  breaking  their  fast 
occurred  in  the  neighborhood,  where  he  had  ventured  to 
make  some  preparations  for  rest  and  refreshment.  Imme- 
diately after  the  Lady  Eveline  had  intimated  her  acceptance 
of  this  courtesy,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  spot  he  alluded 
to,  marked  by  an  ancient  oak,  which,  spreading  its  broad 
branches  far  and  wide,  reminded   the   traveler  of   that  ol 


106  WA VERLET  NOVEL S 

Mamre,  under  which  celestial  beings  accepted  the  hospitality 
of  the  patriarch.  Across  two  of  tliese  huge  protecting  arms 
was  tiung  a  piece  of  rose-colored  sarsnet,  as  a  canopy  to  keep 
off  the  morning  beams,  which  were  already  rising  high. 
Cushions  of  silk,  interchanged  with  others  covered  with  the 
furs  of  animals  of  the  chase,  were  arranged  round  a  repast 
whicli  a  Norman  cook  had  done  his  utmost  to  distinguish, 
by  the  sui^erior  delicacy  of  his  art,  from  the  gross  meals  of 
the  Saxons,  and  the  penurious  simplicity  of  the  Welsh  tables. 
A.  fountain  which  bubbled  from  under  a  large  mossy  stone  at 
some  distance,  refreshed  the  air  with  its  sound,^  and  the 
taste  with  its  liquid  crystal  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  it 
form.ed  a  cistern  for  cooling  two  or  three  flasks  of  Gascon 
wine  and  hippocras,  which  were  at  that  time  the  necessary 
accompaniments  of  the  morning  meal. 

When  Eveline,  with  Rose,  the  confessor  and  at  some  farther 
distance  her  faithful  nurse,  was  seated  at  this  sylvan  banquet, 
the  leaves  rustling  to  a  gentle  breeze,  the  water  bubbling  in 
the  background,  the  birds  twittering  around,  while  the  half- 
heard  sounds  of  conversation  and  laughter  at  a  distance  an- 
nounced that  their  guard  was  in  the  vicinity,  she  could  not 
avoid  making  the  Constable  some  natural  compliment  on  his 
happy  selection  of  a  place  of  repose.  "   • 

"You  do  me  more  than  justice,"  replied  the  baron  :  ''  the 
spot  was  selected  by  my  nephew,  who  hath  a  fancy  like  a 
minstrel.     Myself  am  but  slow  in  imagining  such  devices.'" 

Rose  looked  full  at  her  mistress,  as  if  she  endeavored  to 
look  into  her  very  inmost  soul  ;  but  Eveline  answered  with 
the  utmost  simplicity — "  And  wherefore  hath  not  the  noble 
Damian  waited  to  join  us  at  the  entertainment  which  he 
hath  directed  ?" 

''He  preferred  riding  onward,"  said  the  baron,  "with 
some  light  horsemen  ;  for,  notwithstanding  there  are  now  no 
Welsh  knaves  stirring,  yet  the  marches  are  never  free  from 
robbers  and  outlaws  ;  and  though  there  is  nothing  to  fear 
for  a  band  like  ours,  yet  you  should  not  be  alarmed  even  by 
the  approach  of  danger." 

''I  have  indeed  seen  but  too  much  of  it  lately,"  said 
Eveline  ;  and  relapsed  into  the  melancholy  mood  from  whicli 
the  novelty  of  the  scene  had  for  a  moment  awakened  her. 

Meanwhile,  the  Constable,  removing,  with  the  assistance 
of  his  squire,  his  mailed  hood  and  his  steel  crest,  as  well  as 
his  gauntlets,  remained  in  his  flexible  coat  of  mail,  composed 
entirely  of  rings  of  steel  curiously  interwoven,  his  hands  bare, 
and  his  brows  covered  with  a  velvet  bonnet  of  a  peculiar 


TBE  BETROTHED  l(fl 

fashion,  appropriated  to  the  use  of  knights,  and  called  a 
mortier,  which  permitted  him  both  to  converse  and  to  eat 
more  easily  than  when  he  wore  the  full  defensive  armor.  His 
discourse  was  plain,  sensible,  and  manly  ;  and,  turning  upon 
the  state  of  the  country,  and  the  precautions  to  be  observed 
for  governing  and  defending  so  disorderly  a  frontier,  it  be- 
came gradually  interesting  to  Eveline,  one  of  whose  warmest 
wishes  was  to  be  the  protectress  of  her  father's  vassals.  De 
Lacy,  on  his  part,  seemed  much  pleased  ;  for,  young  as  Eve- 
line was,  her  questions  showed  intelligence,  and  her  mode  of 
answering  both  apprehension  and  docility.  In  short,  famil- 
iarity was  so  far  established  betwixt  them  that,  in  the  next 
stage  of  their  journey,  the  Constable  seemed  to  think  his  ap- 
propriate place  was  at  the  Lady  Eveline's  bridle-rein  ;  and  al- 
though she  certainly  did  not  countenance  his  attendance,  yet 
neither  did  she  seem  willing  to  discourage  it.  Himself  no 
ardent  lover,  although  captivated  both  with  the  beauty  and 
the  amiable  qualities  of  the  fair  orphan,  De  Lacy  was  satisfied 
with  being  endured  as  a  companion,  and  made  no  efforts  to 
improve  the  opportunity  which  this  familiarity  afforded  him, 
by  recurring  to  any  of  the  topics  of  the  preceding  day. 

A  halt  was  made  at  noon  in  a  small  village,  where  the 
same  purveyor  had  made  preparations  for  their  accommoda- 
tion, and  particularly  for  that  of  the  Lady  Eveline  ;  but, 
something  to  her  surprise,  he  himself  remained  invisible. 
The  conversation  of  the  Constable  of  Chester  was,  doubtless, 
in  the  highest  degree  instructive  ;  but  at  Eveline's  years  a 
maiden  might  be  excused  for  wishing  some  addition  to  the 
society  in  the  person  of  a  younger  and  less  serious  attendant ; 
and  when  she  recollected  the  regularity  with  which  Damian 
Lacy  had  hitherto  made  his  respects  to  her,  she  rather  won- 
dered at  his  continued  absence.  But  her  reflection  went  no 
deeper  than  the  passing  thought  of  one  who  was  not  quite 
so  much  delighted  with  her  present  company  as  not  to  be- 
lieve it  capable  of  an  agreeable  addition.  She  was  lending  a 
patient  ear  to  the  account  which  the  Constable  gave  her  of 
the  descent  and  pedigree  of  a  gallant  knight  of  the  distin- 
guished family  of  Herbert,  at  whose  castle  he  purposed  to 
repose  dui-ing  the  night,  when  one  of  the  retinue  announced 
a  messenger  from  the  Lady  of  Baldringham. 

"  My  honored  father's  aunt,"  said  Eveline,  arising  to 
testify  that  respect  for  age  and  relationship  which  the  man- 
ners of  the  time  required. 

''I  knew  not,"  said  the  Constable,  "  that  my  gallant  friend 
had  such  a  relative." 


108  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL8 

"  She  was  my  grandmother's  sister,"  answered  Eveline, 
"  a  noble  Saxon  lady  ;  but  she  disliked  the  match  formed 
with  a  Norman  house,  and  never  saw  her  sister  after  the 
period  of  her  marriage." 

She  broke  off,  as  the  messenger,  who  had  the  appearance 
of  tlie  steward  of  a  person  of  consequence,  entered  their 
presence,  and,  bending  his  knee  reverently,  delivered  a 
letter,  which,  being  examined  by  Father  Aldrovand,  was 
found  to  contain  the  following  invitation,  expressed,  not  in 
French,  then  the  general  language  of  communication 
amongst  the  gentry,  but  in  the  old  Saxon  language,  modified 
as  it  now  was  by  some  intermixture  of  French  : — 

"  If  the  grand-daughter  of  Aelfreid  of  Baldringham  hath 
so  much  of  the  old  Saxon  strain  as  to  desire  to  see  an  ancient 
relation,  who  still  dwells  in  the  house  of  her  forefathers  and 
lives  after  their  manner,  she  is  thus  invited  to  repose  for  the 
night  in  the  dwelling  of  Ermengarde  of  Baldringham." 

"Your  pleasure  will  be,  doubtless,  to  decline  the  present, 
hospitality  ?"  said  the  Constable  de  Lacy.  "  The  noble 
Herbert  expects  us,  and  has  made  great  preparation." 

"  Your  presence,  my  lord,"  said  Eveline,  "will  more  than 
console  him  for  my  absence.  It  is  fitting  and  proper  that  I 
should  meet  my  aunt's  advances  to  reconciliation,  since  she 
has  condescended  to  make  them." 

De  Lacy's  brow  was  slightly  clouded,  for  seldom  liad  he 
met  with  anything  approaching  to  contradiction  of  his 
pleasure.  "I  pray  you  to  reflect.  Lady  Eveline,"  he  said, 
"  that  your  aunt's  house  is  probably  defenseless,  or  at  least 
very  imperfectly  guarded.  Would  it  not  be  your  pleasure 
that  I  should  continue  my  dutiful  attendance  ?" 

"  Of  that,  my  lord,  mine  aunt  can,  in  her  own  house,  be 
the  sole  judge  ;  and  methinks,  as  she  has  not  deemed  it 
necessary  to  request  the  honor  of  your  lordship's  company, 
it  were  unbecoming  in  me  to  permit  you  to  take  the  trouble 
of  attendance  :  you  have  already  had  but  too  much  on  my 
account." 

"  But  for  the  sake  of  your  own  safety,  madam,"  said  De 
Lacy,  unwilling  to  leave  his  charge. 

"  My  safety,  my  lord,  cannot  be  endangered  in  the  house 
of  so  near  a  relative  ;  whatever  precautions  she  may  take  on 
her  own  behalf  will  doubtless  be  amply  sufficient  for  mine." 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  found  so,"  said  De  Lacy  ;  "  and  I  will 
at  lest  add  to  them  the  security  of  a  patrol  around  the  castle 


THE  BETROTHED  109 

during  your  abode  in  it/'  He  stopped,  and  then  proceeded 
with  some  hesitation  to  express  his  hope  that  Eveline,  now 
about  to  visit  a  kinswoman  whose  prejudices  against  the 
Norman  race  were  generally  known,  would  be  on  her  guard 
against  what  she  might  hear  upon  that  subject. 

Eveline  answered  with  dignity,  that  the  daughter  of  Ray- 
mond Berenger  was  unlikely  to  listen  to  any  opinions  which 
would  alfect  the  dignity  of  that  good  knight's  nation  and 
descent  ;  and  with  this  assurance  the  Constable,  finding  it 
impossible  to  obtain  any  which  had  more  special  reference 
to  himself  and  his  suit,  was  compelled  to  remain  satisfied, 
ile  recollected  also  that  the  castle  of  Herbert  was  within 
iwo  miles  of  the  habitation  of  the  Lady  of  Baldringham,  and 
that  his  separation  from  Eveline  was  but  for  one  night  ;  yet 
a  sense  of  the  difference  betwixt  their  years,  and  perhaps  of 
his  own  deficiency  in  those  lighter  qualifications  by  Avhich 
the  female  heart  is  supposed  to  be  most  frequently  won, 
rendered  even  this  temporary  absence  matter  of  anxious 
thought  and  apprehension  ;  so  that,  during  their  afternoon 
journey,  he  rode  in  silence  by  Eveline's  side,  rather  meditat- 
ing what  might  chance  to-morrow  than  endeavoring  to  avail 
himself  of  present  opportunity.  In  this  unsocial  manner 
they  traveled  on  until  the  point  was  reached  where  they 
were  to  separate  for  the  evening. 

This  was  an  elevated  spot,  from  which  they  could  see,  on 
the  right  hand,  the  castle  of  Amelot  [William]  Herbert, 
rising  high  upon  an  eminence,  with  all  its  Gothic  j^innacles 
and  turrets  ;  and  on  the  left,  low-embowered  amongst  oaken 
woods,  the  rude  and  lonely  dwelling  in  which  the  Lady  of 
Baldringham  still  maintained  the  customs  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  and  looked  with  contempt  and  hatred  on  all  in- 
novations that  had  been  introduced  since  the  battle  of 
Hastings. 

Here  the  Constable  De  Lacy,  having  charged  a  part  of  his 
men  to  attend  the  Lady  Eveline  to  the  house  of  her  relation, 
and  to  keep  watch  around  it  with  the  utmost  vigilance,  but 
at  such  a  distance  as  might  not  give  offense  or  inconvenience 
to  the  family,  kissed  her  hand,  and  took  a  reluctant  leave. 
Eveline  proceeded  onwards  by  a  path  so  little  trodden  as  to 
show  the  solitary  condition  of  the  mansion  to  which  it  led. 
Large  kine,  of  an  uncommon  and  valuable  breed,  were  feed- 
ing in  the  rich  pastures  around  ;  and  now  and  then  fallow 
deer,  which  appeared  to  have  lost  the  shyness  of  their  nature, 
tripped  across  the  glades  of  the  woodland,  or  stood  and  lay 
in  small  groups   under    some   great   oak.     The   transient 


^jQ  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

v,;oK  cnnli  fl  scene  of  rural  quiet  was  calculated  to 

S  »d    otore'sSrous  f eeling\,  when  a  sudde.^Ujrn 

t       ifn un°-it  once  in  front  of  the  mansion-house,  of  which 

iT'l?  1  seen  nothing  since  she  first  beheld  it  from  the  point 

1      p  .henaJted  with  the  Constable,  and  which  she  had 

""        itn  one  leasl  for  regarding  with  some  apprehension. 

'''%t       nnS   for  it  could  Sot  be  termed  a  castle,  was  only 

Ihe  house   tor  it  cou  ^^^-^      ^^-^^^  doors  and 

two  stones  hgh     ow  and  J  ^^,^^^   ^^^^-^^^  -^  ,,,,,^x\y 

""nrM^voT  the  walls  were  mantled  with  various  creeping 
called  Saxon,  the  wans  we  undisturbed;    grass 

P^'^'nnto    he  very  ttesl  oW,  at  which  hung  a  buffalo's 
grew  up  to  t  le  veiy   i  massive  door  of  black 

horn    suspendedby  ab.^ssc   an^^^  A^^^       ^^^^  ^^^.^^^  ^^^^ 

?rtctTf'a^St^aIepuL"r:and  not  a  soul  appeared  to 

"""^^^^rZ'::?^^^^''  --^  the  officious  Dame 
ailhan     "I  would  tun/bridle  yet;   for  this  old  dungeon 

Eveline  imposed^silen^^^^^        I^ose  which  confessed  some- 
the  Confessor  .         cursino-  the  rude  instrument 

was  sending  ite  t"™"^-*^  ?„t„aernT  tc£  ,,,  wa^s'carvcc 
front,  as  extensive  as  *'"'  «/  ^  ""^ne,  and  garnished  oi 
over  wit\»"'^™™'%,°' j;'T/riets  from  efcl.  of  whicl 
the  top  w.tli.a  l»ng.'™f,^,°^;"„„  saint,  whose  barharou 

lady  to  Eveline  now  sepped  ^^^^\^J^  „,,  ; 
assist  her  from  lierpamey,  o  ^^ 

Sised^^Ut^X'^rrs/luKpper  end  of  which  she  w. 


TEE  BETROTHED  Ul 

at  length  permitted  to  dismoimt.  Two  matrons  of  advanced 
years,  and  four  young  women  of  gentle  birth,  educated  by 
the  bounty  of  Ermengarde,  attended  with  revei-ence  the 
arrival  of  her  kinswoman.  Eveline  would  have  inquired  of 
them  for  her  grand-aunt,  but  the  matrons  with  much  respect 
laid  their  fingers  on  their  mouths,  as  if  to  enjoin  her  silence 
— a  gesture  which,  united  to  the  singularity  of  her  reception 
in  other  respects,  still  further  excited  her  curiosity  to  see 
her  venerable  relative. 

It  was  soon  gratified  ;  for  through  a  pair  of  folding-doors, 
which  opened  not  far  from  the  platform  on  which  she  stood, 
she  was  ushered  into  the  large  low  apartment  hung  with 
arras  ;  at  the  upper  end  of  which,  under  a  species  of  canopy, 
was  seated  the  ancient  Lady  of  Baldringham.  Fourscore 
years  had  not  quenched  the  brightness  of  her  eyes,  or  bent 
an  inch  of  her  stately  height ;  her  gray  hair  was  still  so  pro- 
fuse as  to  form  a  tier,  combined  as  it  was  with  a  chaplet  of 
ivy  leaves  ;  her  long  dark-colored  gown  fell  in  ample  folds, 
and  the  broidered  girdle,  which  gathered  it  around  lier,  was 
fastened  by  a  buckle  of  gold,  studded  with  precious  stones, 
which  were  worth  an  earl's  ransom  ;  her  features,  which  had 
once  been  beautiful,  or  rather  majestic,  bore  still,  though 
faded  and  wrinkled,  an  air  of  melancholy  and  stern  grandeur, 
that  assorted  well  with  her  garb  and  deportment.  She  had 
a  staff  of  ebony  in  her  hand  ;  at  her  feet  rested  a  large  aged 
wolf-dog,  who  pricked  his  ears  and  bristled  up  his  neck  as 
the  step  of  a  stranger,  a  sound  so  seldom  heard  in  those  halls, 
approached  the  chair  in  which  his  aged  mistress  sat  motion- 
less. 

'*  Peace,  Thryme,"  said  the  venerable  dame  ;  "  and  thou, 
daughter  of  the  house  of  Baldringham,  approach,  and  fear 
not  their  ancient  servant." 

The  hound  sunk  down  to  his  couchant  posture  when  she 
spoke,  and,  excepting  the  red  glare  of  his  eyes,  might  have 
seemed  a  hieroglyphical  emblem,  lying  at  the  feet  of  some 
ancient  priestess  of  Woden  or  Freya  ;  so  strongly  did  the  ap- 
pearance of  Ermengarde,  with  her  rod  and  her  chaplet, 
correspond  with  the  ideas  of  the  days  of  paganism.  Yet  he 
who  had  thus  deemed  of  her  would  have  done  therein  much 
injustice  to  a  venerable  Christian  matron,  who  had  given 
many  a  hide  of  land  to  holy  church,  in  honor  of  God  and  St. 
Dunstan. 

Ermengarde's  reception  of  Eveline  was  of  the  same  anti- 
quated and  formal  cast  with  her  mansion  and  her  exterior. 
She  did  not  at  first  arise  from  her  seat  when  the  noble  maiden 


(12  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

approached  her,  nor  did  she  even  admit  her  to  the  salnte 
uhich  she  advanced  to  offer;  but  hiying  her  hand  on  Eveline's 
arm,  stopped  her  as  she  advanced,  and  perused  her  counte- 
nance with  an  earnest  and  unsparing  eye  of  minute  observa- 
tion. 

"  Berwine,"  she  said  to  the  most  favored  of  the  two  attend- 
ants, "our  niece  hath  tlie  skin  and  eyes  of  the  Saxon  hue  ; 
but  the  hue  of  her  eyebrows  and  hair  is  from  the  foreigner 
and  alien.  Thou  art,  nevertheless,  Avelcome  to  my  house, 
maiden,"  she  added,  addressing  Eveline,  "  especially  if  thou 
canst  bear  to  hear  that  thou  art  not  absolutely  a  perfect  crea- 
ture, as  doubtless  these  flatterers  around  thee  have  taught 
thee  to  believe.'' 

So  saying,  she  at  length  arose,  and  sahited  her  niece  with 
a  kiss  on  the  forehead.  She  released  her  not,  however,  from 
her  grasp,  but  proceeded  to  give  the  attention  to  her  gar- 
ments which  she  had  hitherto  bestowed  upon  her  features. 

''St.  Dunstan  keep  us  from  vanity  !"  she  said  ;  "  and  so 
this  is  the  new  guise,  and  modest  maidens  wear  such  tunics 
as  these,  showing  the  shape  of  their  persons  as  plain  as  if — 
St.  Mary  defend  us  ! — they  were  altogether  without  gar- 
ments !  And  see,  Berwine,  these  gauds  on  the  neck,  and 
that  neck  itself  uncovered  as  low  as  the  shoulder — these  be 
the  guises  which  strangers  have  brought  into  merry  England! 
and  this  pouch,  like  a  player's  placket,  hath  but  little  to  do 
with  housewifery,  I  Avot ;  and  tliat  dagger,  too,  like  a  glee- 
man's  wife,  that  rides  a-mumming  in  masculine  apparel ; 
dost  thou  ever  go  to  the  wars,  maiden,  that  thou  wearest 
steel  at  thy  girdle  ?" 

Eveline,  equally  surprised  and  disobliged  by  the  depreciat- 
ing catalogue  of  her  apparel,  replied  to  the  last  question  with 
some  spirit.  "  The  mode  may  have  altered,  madam  ;  but  I 
only  wear  such  garments  as  are  now  worn  by  those  of  my  age 
and  condition.  For  the  poniard,  may  it  please  you,  it  is  not 
many  days  since  I  regarded  it  as  the  last  resource  betwixt 
me  and  dishonor." 

"  The  maiden  speaks  well  and  boldly,  Berwine,"  said  Dame, 
Ermengarde  ;  "  and  in  truth,  pass  we  but  over  some  of  these 
vain  fripperies,  is  attired  in  a  comely  fashion.  Thy  father, 
I  hear,  fell  knight-like  in  the  field  of  battle." 

*'  He  did  so,"  answered  Eveline,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears 
at  the  recollection  of  her  recent  loss. 

"I  never  saw  him,"  continued  Dame  Ermengarde;  "he 
carried  the  old  Norman  scorn  towards  the  Saxon  stock.. 
vrhom  they  wed  but  for  what  they  can  make  by  them,  ai 


the  bramble  clings  to  the  elm  ;  nay,  never  seek  to  vindicate 
him/'  she  continued,  observing  that  Eveline  was  about  to 
speak;,  "  I  have  known  the  Norman  spirit  for  many  a  year 
ere  thou  wert  born." 

At  this  moment  the  steward  appeared  in  the  chamber,  and, 
after  a  long  gennflection,  asked  his  lady's  pleasure  concern- 
ing the  guard  of  Norman  soldiers  who  remained  without  the 
mansion. 

"Norman  soldiers  so  near  the  house  of  Baldringhara  ! " 
said  the  old  lady,  fiercely.  '*  Who  brings  them  hither,  and 
for  what  purpose  ?" 

"  They  came,  as  I  think,"  said  the  sewer,  "  to  wait  on  and 
guard  this  gracious  young  lady." 

"  What,  my  daughter,"  said  Ermengarde,  in  a  tone  of 
melancholy  reproach,  "darest  thou  not  trust  thyself  un- 
guarded for  one  night  in  the  castle  of  thy  forefathers  ?  " 

"  God  forbid  else!"  said  Eveline.  "But  these  men  are 
not  mine,  nor  under  my  authority.  They  are  part  of  the 
train  of  the  Constable  De  Lacy,  who  left  them  to  watch 
around  the  castle,  thinking  there  might  be  danger  from 
robbers." 

"  Robbers,"  said  Ermengarde,  "  have  never  harmed  the 
^j[':  house  of  Baldringham  since  a  Norman  robber  stole  from  it 
I  its  best  treasure  in  the  person  of  thy  grandmother.  And 
!  so,  poor  bird,  thou  art  already  captive — unhappy  flutterer  ! 
I  But  it  is  thy  lot,  and  wherefore  should  I  wonder  or  repine  ? 
i  When  was  there  fair  maiden  with  a  wealthy  dower,  but  she 
t  was  ere  maturity  destined  to  be  the  slave  of  some  of  those 
I  petty  kings,  who  allow  us  to  call  nothing  ours  that  their 
;  passions  can  covet  ?  Well,  I  cannot  aid  thee  :  I  am  but  a 
.  poor  and  neglected  woman,  feeble  both  from  sex  and  age. 
i  And  to  which  of  these  De  Lacys  art  thou  the  destined  house- 
I  hold  drudge  ?  " 

I      A  question  so  asked,  and  by  one  whose  prejudices  were  of 
j  such  a  determined   character,  was  not  likely  to  draw  from 
Eveline  any  confession  of  the  real  circumstances  in  which  she 
,   ./as  placed,  since  it  was  but  too  plain   her  Saxon  relation 
;  could  have  afforded  her  neither  sound  counsel  nor  useful  as- 
:  sistance.     She  replied  therefore  briefly,  that  as  the  Lacys, 
and  the  Normans  in  general,  were  unwelcome  to  her  kins- 
woman, she  would  entreat  of  the  commander  of  the  patrol 
to  withdraw  it  from  the  neighborhood  of  Baldringham. 
J       "Not  so,  my  niece,"  said   the  old  lady;  "  as  we  cannot 
;  escape  the  Norman  neighborhood,  or  get  beyond  the  souna 
'.  of  their  curfew,  it  signifies  not  whether  they  be  near  our 
o 


114  WAVBRLEF  NOVELS 

walls  or  more  far  off,  so  that  they  enter  them  not.  And, 
Berwine,  bid  Huudwolf  drench  the  Normans  with  liquor 
and  gorge  them  with  food — food  of  the  best  and  liquor  of 
the  strongest.  Let  them  not  say  the  old  Saxon  hag  is 
churlish  of  her  hospitality.  Broach  a  piece  of  wine,  for  I 
warrant  their  gentle  stomachs  brook  no  ale." 

Berwine,  her  huge  bunch  of  keys  jangling  at  her  girdle, 
withdrew  to  give  the  necessary  directions,  and  presently 
returned. 

Meanwhile  Ermengarde  proceeded  to  question  her  niece 
more  closely.  ''Is  it  that  thou  wilt  not,  or  canst  not,  tell 
me  to  which  of  the  De  Lacys  thou  art  to  be  bondswoman  ? 
To  the  overweening  Constable,  who,  sheathed  in  impenetra- 
ble armor,  and  mounted  on  a  swift  and  strong  horse  asin\ul- 
nerable  as  himself,  takes  pride  that  he  rides  down  and  stabs 
at  his  ease,  and  with  perfect  safety,  the  naked  Welshmen  ? 
Or  is  it  to  his  nephew,  the  beardless  Damian  ?  Or  must  thy 
possession  go  to  mend  a  breach  in  the  fortunes  of  that  other 
cousin,  Eandal  Lacy,  the  decayed  reveler,  who,  they  say, 
can  no  longer  ruffle  it  among  the  debauched  crusaders  for 
want  of  means  ?  " 

"  My  honored  aunt,"  replied  Eveline,  naturally  displeased 
with  this  discourse,  "  to  none  of  the  Lacys,  and  I  trust  to 
none  other,  Saxon  or  Xorman,  will  your  kinswoman  become 
a  household  drudge.  There  was,  before  the  death  of  my 
honored  father,  some  treaty  betwixt  him  and  the  Constable*, 
on  which  account  I  cannot  at  present  decline  his  attendance  ; 
but  what  may  be  the  issue  of  it,  fate  must  determine." 

**  But  I  can  show  thee,  niece,how  the  balance  of  fate  in- 
clines," said  Ermengarde,  in  a  low  and  mysterious  voice. 
"Those  united  Avith  us  by  blood  have,  in  some  sort,  the 
privilege  of  looking  forward  beyond  the  points  of  present 
time,  and  seeing  in  their  very  bud  the  thorns  or  flowers 
which  are  one  day  to  encircle  their  head." 

"For  my  own  sake,  noble  kinswoman," answered  Eveline, 
"  I  would  decline  such  foreknowledge,  even  were  it  possible 
to  acquire  it  without  transgressing  the  rules  of  the  church. 
Could  I  have  foreseen  what  has  befallen  me  within  these  last 
unhappy  days,  I  had  lost  the  enjoyment  of  every  happy  mo- 
ment before  that  time." 

"  Nevertheless,  daughter,"  said  the  Lady  of  Baldring- 
ham,  "thou,  like  others  of  thy  race,  must  within  this  house 
conform  to  the  rule  of  passing  one  night  within  the  cham- 
ber of  the  Red-Finger.  Berwine,  see  that  it  be  preparec? 
for  my  niece's  reception/* 


THE  BETROTHED  115 

"I — I — have  heard  speak  of  tliat  chamber,  gracious 
aunt,"  said  Eveline,  timidly,  "and  if  it  may  consist  with 
your  good  pleasure,  I  would  not  now  choose  to  pass  the 
night  there.  My  health  has  suffered  by  my  late  perils  and 
fatigues,  and  with  your  good-will  I  will  delay  to  another 
time  the  usage,  which  I  have  heard  is  peculiar  to  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  house  of  Buldringham." 

"And  which,  notwithstanding,  you  would  willingly 
avoid,"  said  the  old  Saxon  lady,  bending  her  brows  angrily. 
"Has  not  such  disobedience  cost  your  house  enough  al- 
ready?" 

"Indeed,  honored  and  gracious  lady,"  said  Berwine,  un- 
able to  forbear  interference,  though  well  knowing  the  ob- 
stinacy of  her  patroness,  "  that  chamber  is  in  disrepair,  and 
cannot  easily  on  a  sudden  be  made  fit  for  the  Lady  Eveline  : 
and  the  noble  damsel  looks  so  pale,  and  hath  lately  suffered 
so  much,  that,  might  I  have  the  permission  to  advise,  this 
were  better  delayed." 

"  Thou  art  a  fool,  Berwine,"  said  the  old  lady,  sternly ; 
**thinivest  thou  I  will  bring  anger  and  misfortune  on  my 
house,  by  suffering  this  girl  to  leave  it  without  rendering 
the  usual  homage  to  the  Red-Finger  ?  Go  to,  let  the  room 
be  made  ready  :  small  preparation  may  serve,  if  she  cherish 
not  the  Korman  nicety  about  bed  and  lodging.  Do  not 
reply,  but  do  as  I  command  thee.  And  you,  Eveline,  are 
you  so  far  degenerated  from  the  brave  spirit  of  your  ances- 
try, that  you  dare  not  pass  a  few  hours  in  an  ancient  apart- 
ment ?  " 

"  You  are  my  hostess,  gracious  madam,"  said  Eveline, 
'*  and  must  assign  my  apartment  where  you  judge  proper  ; 
my  courage  is  such  as  innocence  and  some  pride  of  blood 
and  birth  have  given  me.  It  has  been,  of  late,  severely 
tried  ;  but,  since  such  is  your  pleasure,  and  the  custom  of 
your  house,  my  heart  is  yet  strong  enough  to  encounter 
what  you  propose  to  subject  me  to." 

She  paused  here  in  displeasure  ;  for  she  resented,  in  some 
measure,  her  aunt's  conduct,  as  unkind  and  inhospitable. 
And  yet,  when  she  reflected  upon  the  foundation  of  the 
legend  of  the  chamber  to  which  she  was  consigned,  she 
could  not  but  regard  the  Lady  of  Baldringham  as  having 
considerable  reason  for  her  conduct,  according  to  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  family,  and  the  belief  of  the  times,  in  which 
Eveline  herself  was  devout. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Sometimes,  methinks,  I  hear  the  groans  of  ghosts. 
Then  hollow  sounds  and  lamentable  screams, 
Then,  like  a  dying  echo  from  afar, 
My  mother's  voice,  that  cries,  "  Wed  not,  Almeyda; 
Forewarned,  Almeyda,  marriage  is  thy  crime." 

Don  Sebastian. 

The  evening  at  Baldringham  would  have  seemed  of  por- 
tentous and  unendurable  length,  had  it  not  been  that  appre- 
hended danger  makes  time  pass  quickly  betwixt  us  and  the 
dreaded  hour,  and  that,  if  Eveline  felt  little  interested  or 
amused  by  the  conversation  of  her  aunt  and  Berwine,  which 
turned  upon  the  long  deduction  of  their  ancestors  from  the 
warlike  Horsa,  and  the  feats  of  Saxon  champions,  and  the 
miracles  of  Saxon  monks,  she  was  still  better  pleased  to 
listen  to  these  legends  than  to  anticipate  her  retreat  to  the 
destined  and  dreaded  apartment  where  she  Avas  to  pass  the 
night.  There  lacked  not,  however,  such  amusement  as  the 
house  of  Baldringham  could  afford,  to  pass  away  the  even- 
ing. Blessed  by  a  grave  old  Saxon  monk,  the  chaplain  of 
the  house,  a  sumptuous  entertainment,  which  might  have 
sufficed  twenty  hungry  men,  was  served  up  before  Ermen- 
garde  and  her  niece,  whose  sole  assistants,  besides  the  rev- 
erend man,  were  Berwine  and  Rose  Flammock.  Eveline 
was  the  less  inclined  to  do  justice  to  this  excess  of  hospital- 
ity, that  the  dishes  were  all  of  the  gross  and  substantial 
nature  which  the  Saxons  admired,  but  which  contrasted  dis- 
advantageously  with  the  refined  and  delicate  cookery  of  the 
Normans,  as  did  the  moderate  cup  of  light  and  high-flavored 
Gascon  wine,  tempered  with  more  than  half  its  quantity  of 
the  purest  water,  with  the  mighty  ale,  the  high-spiced  pig- 
ment and  hippocras,  and  the  other  potent  liquors,  which, 
one  after  another,  were  in  vain  proffered  for  her  acceptance 
by  the  steward  Hundwolf,  in  honor  of  the  hospitality  of 
Baldringham. 

Neither  were  the  stated  amusements  of  the  evening  more 

congenial  to  Eveline's  taste  than  the  profusion  of  her  aunt's 

solid  refection.     When  the  boards  and  tresses  on  which  the 

viands  had  been  served  were  withdrawn  from  the  apartment, 

1X6 


I 


THE  BETROTHED  117 

the  menials,  under  direction  of  tlie  steward,  proceeded  to 
liglit  several  long  waxen  torches,  one  of  which  was  gradu- 
ated for  the  purpose  of  marking  the  passing  time,  and  di- 
viding it  into  portions.  These  were  announced  by  means 
of  brazen  balls,  suspended  by  threads  from  the  ^orch,  the 
spaces  betwixt  them  being  calculated  to  occupy  a  certain 
time  in  burning;  so  that,  when  the  flame  reached  the 
thread,  and  the  balls  fell,  each  in  succession,  into  a  brazen 
basin  placed  for  its  reception,  the  office  of  a  modern  clock 
was  in  some  degree  discharged.  By  this  light  the  party  was 
arranged  for  the  evening. 

The  ancient  Ermengarde's  lofty  and  ample  chair  was  re- 
moved, according  to  ancient  custom,  from  the  middle  of  the 
apartment  to  the  warmest  side  of  a  large  grate,  filled  with 
charcoal,  and  her  guest  was  placed  on  her  right,  as  the  seat  of 
honor.  Berwine  then  arranged  in  due  order  the  females  of 
the  household,  and,  having  seen  that  each  was  engaged  with 
her  own  proper  task,  sat  herself  down  to  ply  the  spindle  and 
distaff.  The  men,  in  a  more  remote  circle,  betook  them- 
selves to  the  repairing  of  their  implements  of  husbandry,  or 
new  furbishing  weapons  of  the  chase,  under  the  direction  of 
the  steward,  Hundwolf.  For  tlie  amusement  of  the  family 
thus  assembled,  an  old  gleeman  sung  to  a  harp,  which  had 
but  four  strings,  a  long  and  apparently  interminable  legend 
upon  some  religious  subject,  which  was  rendered  almost 
unintelligible  to  Eveline  by  the  extreme  and  complicated 
affectation  of  the  poet,  who,  in  order  to  indulge  in  the  allit- 
eration which  was  accounted  one  great  ornament  of  Saxon 
poetry,  had  sacrificed  sense  to  sound,  and  used  words  in  the 
most  forced  and  remote  sense,  provided  they  could  be  com- 
pelled into  his  service.  There  was  also  all  the  obscurity 
arising  from  elision,  and  from  the  most  extravagant  and 
hyperbolical  epithets. 

Eveline,  though  well  acquainted  with  the  Saxon  language, 
soon  left  off  listening  to  the  singer,  to  reflect  for  a  moment 
on  the  gay  fahliaux  and  imaginative  lais  of  the  Norman 
minstrels,  and  then  to  anticipate,  with  anxious  apprehension, 
what  nature  of  visitation  she  might  be  exposed  to  in  the 
mysterious  chamber  in  which  she  was  doomed  to  pass  the 
night. 

The  hour  of  parting  at  length  approached.  At  half  an 
hour  before  midnight,  a  period  ascertained  by  the  consump- 
tion of  the  huge  waxen  torch,  the  ball  w^hich  was  secured  to 
it  fell  clanging  into  the  brazen  basin  placed  beneath,  and 
announced  to  all  the  hour  of  rest.     The  old  gleeman  paused 


118  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

in  his  song  iustantaueonsl}^  and  in  the  middle  of  a  stanza, 
and  the  household  were  all  on  foot  at  the  signal,  some  r(;ir- 
ing  to  their  own  apartments,  others  lighting  torches  or 
bearing  lamps  to  conduct  the  visitors  to  their  places  of  repose. 
Among  these  last  was  a  bevy  of  bower-women,  to  whom  the 
duty  was  assigned  of  conveying  the  Lady  Eveline  to  her 
chaniber  for  the  night.  Her  aunt  took  a  solemn  leave  of 
her,  crossed  her  forehead,  kissed  it,  and  whispered  in  her 
ear,  "  Be  courageous,  and  be  fortunate." 

"  May  not  my  bower-maiden.  Rose  Flammock,  or  my  tire- 
woman. Dame  Gillian,  Raoul's  wife,  remain  in  the  apart- 
ment with  me  for  this  night  ?"  said  Eveline. 

''Flammock — Raoul  I"  repeated  Ermengarde,  angrily: 
**  is  thy  household  thus  made  up?  The  Flemings  are  tlie 
cold  palsy  to  Britain,  the  Xormans  the  burning  fever  I" 

''And  the  poor  Welsh  will  add,"  said  Rose,  whose  resent- 
ment began  to  surpass  her  awe  for  the  ancient  Saxon  dame, 
"  that  the  Anglo-Saxons  were  the  original  disea-se,  and 
resemble  a  wasting  pestilence." 

"Thou  art  too  bold,  sweetheart,"  said  the  Lady  Ermen- 
garde, looking  at  the  Flemish  maiden  from  under  her  dark 
brows  ;  "  and  yet  there  is  wit  in  thy  words.  Saxon,  Dane, 
and  Norman  have  rolled  like  successive  billows  over  the 
land,  each  having  strength  to  subdue  what  they  lacked 
wisdom  to  keep.     When  shall  it  be  otlierwise  ?" 

"  When  Saxon,  and  Briton,  and  Norman,  and  Fleming," 
answered  Rose,  boldly,  "  shall  learn  to  call  themselves  by 
one  name,  and  think  themselves  alike  children  of  the  land 
they  are  born  in." 

"  Ha  ! "  exclaimed  the  Lady  of  Baldringham,  in  the  tone 
of  one  half  surprised,  half  pleased.  Then  turning  to  her 
relation,  she  said,  "  There  are  words  and  wit  in  this  maiden  ; 
see  that  she  use,  but  do  not  abuse,  them." 

"  She  is  as  kind  and  faithful  as  she  is  prompt  and  ready- 
witted,"  said  Eveline.  "I  pray  you,  dearest  aunt,  let  me 
use  her  company  for  this  night." 

"It  may  not  "be  :  it  were  dangerous  to  both.  Alone  you 
must  learn  your  destiny,  as  have  all  the  females  of  our  race, 
excepting  your  grandmother  ;  and  what  have  been  the  con- 
sequences of  her  neglecting  the  rules  of  our  house  ?  Lo ! 
her  descendant  stands  before  me  an  orphan,  in  the  very 
bloom  of  youth." 

"  I  wilfgo  then,"  said  Eveline,  with  a  sigh  of  resignation  ; 
"  and  it  shall  never  be  said  I  incurred  future  woe  to  shun 
present  terror." 


THE  BETROTHED  119 

'*^Your  attendants,"  said  the  Lady  Ermengarde,  '' may 
occupy  the  anteroom,  and  be  almost  within  your  call.  Ber- 
wine  will  show  you  the  apartment ;  I  cannot,  for  we,  thou 
knowest,  who  have  once  entered  it,  return  not  thither  again. 
Farewell,  my  child,  and  may  Heaven  bless  thee  ! " 

With  more  of  human  emotion  and  sympathy  than  she  had 
yet  shown,  the  lady  again  saluted  Eveline,  and  signed  to  her 
to  follow  Berwine,  who,  attended  by  two  damsels  bearing 
torches,  waited  to  conduct  her  to  the  dreaded  apartment. 

Their  torches  glared  along  the  rudely-built  walls  and  dark 
arched  roofs  of  one  or  two  long  winding  passages  ;  these  by 
their  light  enabled  them  to  descend  the  steps  of  a  winding 
stair,  whose  inequality  and  ruggedness  showed  its  antiquity  ; 
and  finally  led  into  a  tolerably  large  chamber  on  the  lower 
story  of  the  edifice,  to  which  some  old  hangings,  a  lively 
fire  on  the  hearth,  the  moonbeams  stealing  through  a  latticed 
window,  and  the  boughs  of  a  myrtle  plant  which  grew 
around  the  casement,  gave  no  uncomfortable  appearance. 

"  This,"  said  Berwine,  is  the  resting-place  of  your  attend- 
ants," and  she  pointed  to  the  couches  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  Rose  and  Dame  Gillian  ;  "  we,"  she  added,  "pro- 
ceed farther." 

She  then  took  a  torch  from  the  attendant  maidens,  both 
of  whom  seemed  to  shrink  back  with  fear,  which  was  readily 
caught  by  Dame  Gillian,  although  she  was  not  probably 
aware  of  the  cause.  But  Rose  Flammock,  unbidden,  fol- 
lowed her  mistress  withont  hesitation,  as  Berwine  conducted 
her  through  a  small  wicket  at  the  upper  end  of  the  apart- 
ment, clenched  with  many  an  iron  nail,  into  a  second  but 
smaller  anteroom  or  wardrobe,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a 
similar  door.  This  wardrobe  had  also  its  casements  mantled 
with  evergreens,  and,  like  the  former,  it  was  faintly  enlight- 
ened by  the  moonbeam. 

Berwine  paused  here,  and,  pointing  to  Rose,  demanded  of 
Eveline,  "Why  does  she  follow  ?" 

-'  To  share  my  mistress's  danger,  be  it  what  it  may,"  an- 
swered Rose,  with  her  characteristic  readiness  of  speech  and 
resolution.  "Speak,"  she  said,  "  my  dearest  lady,"  grasp- 
ing Eveline's  hand,  while  she  addressed  her  ;  "  you  will  not 
drive  your  Rose  from  you  ?  If  I  am  less  high-minded  than 
one  of  your  boasted  race,  I  am  bold  and  quick-witted  in  all 
honest  service.  You  tremble  like  the  aspen  !  Do  not  go 
into  this  apartment  ;  do  not  be  gulled  by  all  this  pomp  and 
mystery  of  terrible  preparation  ;  bid  defiance  to  this  anti- 
quated, and,  I  think,  half-pagan,  superstition.*' 


120  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

"  The  Lady  Eveline  must  go,  minion/'  replied  Berwine, 
sternly  ;  "  and  she  must  go  without  any  malapert  adviser  or 
companion." 

"  Must  go — must  go  !  "  repeated  Eose.  "  Is  this  language 
to  a  free  and  noble  maiden  ?  Sweet  lady,  give  me  once  but 
the  least  hint  that  you  wish  it,  and  their  '  must  go'  shall  be 
put  to  the  trial.  I  will  call  from  the  casement  on  the  Nor- 
man cavaliers,  and  tell  them  we  have  fallen  into  a  den  of 
witches  instead  of  a  house  of  hospitality." 

"  Silence,  madwoman  !"  said  Berwine,  her  voice  quiver- 
ing with  anger  and  fear  ;  "  you  know  not  who  dwells  in  the 
next  chamber  ! " 

"  I  will  call  those  who  will  soon  see  to  that,"  said  Rose, 
flying  to  the  casement,  when  Eveline,  seizing  her  arm  in  her 
turn,  compelled  her  to  stop. 

"  I  thank  thy  kindness.  Rose,"  she  said,  ''but  it  cannot 
help  me  in  this  matter.  She  who  enters  yonder  door  must 
do  so  alone." 

"  Then  I  will  enter  it  in  your  stead,  my  dearest  lady," 
said  Rose.  "  You  are  pale — you  are  cold — you  will  die  of 
terror  if  you  go  on.  There  may  be  as  much  of  trick  as  of 
supernatural  agency  in  this  matter  :  me  they  shall  not  de- 
ceive, or,  if  some  stern  spirit  craves  a  victim,  better  Rose 
than  her  lady." 

"Forbear — forbear,"  said  Eveline,  rousing  up  her  own 
spirit ;  "you  make  me  ashamed  of  myself.  This  is  an  an- 
cient ordeal,  which  regards  the  females  descended  from  the 
house  of  Baldringham  as  far  as  in  the  third  degree,  and 
them  only.  I  did  not  indeed  expect,  in  my  present  circum- 
stances, to  have  been  called  upon  to  undergo  it ;  but,  since 
the  hour  summons  me,  I  will  meet  it  as  freely  as  any  of  my 
ancestors." 

So  saying,  she  took  the  torch  from  the  hand  of  Berwine, 
and  wishing  good-night  to  her  and  Rose,  gently  disengaged 
herself  from  tlie  hold  of  the  latter,  and  advanced  into  the 
mysterious  chamber.  Rose  pressed  after  her  so  far  as  to  see 
that  it  was  an  apartment  of  moderate  dimensions,  resembling 
that  through  which  they  had  last  passed,  and  lighted  by  the 
moonbeams,  which  came  through  a  window  lying  on  the 
same  range  with  those  of  the  anterooms.  More  she  could 
not  see,  for  Eveline  turned  on  tlie  threshold,  and,  kissing 
her  at  the  same  time,  thrust  her  gently  back  into  tlie  smaller 
apartment  which  she  had  just  left,  shut  the  door  of  com- 
munication, and  barred  and  bolted  it,  as  if  in  security  against 
her  well-raeant  intrusion. 


THE  BETROTHED  121 

Berwme  now  exhorted  Rose,  as  she  vahied  her  life,  to  re- 
tire into  the  first  ante-room,  where  the  beds  were  prepared, 
and  betake  herself,  if  not  to  rest,  at  least  to  silence  and  de- 
votion ;  but  the  faithful  Flemish  girl  stoutly  refused  her 
entreaties  and  resisted  her  commands. 

"  Talk  not  to  me  of  danger,"  she  said  ;  ''  here  I  remain, 
that  1  may  be  at  least  within  hearing  of  my  mistress's  dan- 
ger ;  and  woe  betide  those  who  shall  offer  her  injury .'  Take 
notice,  that  twenty  Norman  spears  surround  this  inhospitable 
dwelling,  prompt  to  avenge  whatsoever  injury  shall  be  of- 
fered to  the  daughter  of  Raymond  Berenger." 

"  Reserve  your  threats  for  those  who  are  mortal,"  said 
Berwine,  in  a  low  but  piercing  whisper;  "the  owner  of 
yonder  chamber  fears  them  not.  Farewell — thy  danger  be 
on  thine  own  head  I" 

She  departed,  leaving  Rose  strangely  agitated  by  what  had 
passed,  and  somewhat  appalled  at  her  last  words.  "  These 
Saxons,"  said  the  maiden,  within  herself,  ''are  but  half  con- 
verted after  all,  and  hold  many  of  their  old  hellish  rites  in 
the  worship  of  elementary  spirits.  Their  very  saints  are 
unlike  to  the  saints  of  any  Christian  country,  and  have,  as 
it  were,  a  look  of  something  savage  and  fiendish  ;  their  very 
names  sound  pagan  and  diabolical.  It  is  fearful  being  aloiie 
here  ;  and  all  is  silent  as  death  in  the  apartment  into  which 
my  lady  has  been  thus  strangely  compelled.  Shall  I  call  up 
Gillian  ?  But  no  ;  she  has  neither  sense,  nor  courage,  nor 
principle,  to  aid  me  on  such  an  occasion  :  better  alone  than 
have  a  false  friend  for  company.  I  will  see  if  the  Normans 
are  on  their  post,  since  it  is  to  them  I  must  trust  if  a  mo- 
ment of  need  should  arrive." 

Thus  reflecting,  Rose  Flammock  went  to  the  window  of 
the  little  apartment,  in  order  to  satisfy  herself  of  the  vigi- 
lance of  the  sentinels,  and  to  ascertain  the  exact  situation  of 
the  corps  de  garde.  The  moon  was  at  full,  and  enabled  her 
to  see  with  accuracy  the  nature  of  the  ground  without.  In 
the  first  place,  she  was  rather  disappointed  to  find  that,  in- 
stead of  being  so  near  the  earth  as  she  supposed,  the  range 
of  windows,  which  gave  light  as  well  to  the  two  ante-rooms 
as  to  the  mysterious  chamber  itself,  looked  down  upon  an 
ancient  moat,  by  which  they  were  divided  from  the  level 
ground  on  the  farther  side.  The  defense  which  this  fosse 
afforded  seemed  to  have  been  long  neglected,  and  the  bottom, 
entirely  dry,  was  choked  in  many  places  with  bushes  and 
low  trees,  which  rose  up  against  the  wall  of  the  castle,  and 
by  means  of  which  it  seemed  to  Rose  the  windows  might  be 


122  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS. 

easily  scaled  and  the  mansion  entered.  From  tlie  level  plain 
beyond,  the  space  adjoining  to  the  castle  was  in  a  consider- 
able degree  clear,  and  the  moonbeams  slumbered  on  its  close 
and  beautiful  turf,  mixed  with  long  shadows  of  the  towers 
and  trees.  Beyond  this  esplanade  lay  the  forest  ground,  with 
a  few  gigantic  oaks  scattered  individually  along  the  skirt  of 
its  dark  and  ample  domain,  like  champions  who  take  their 
ground  of  defiance  in  front  of  a  line  of  arrayed  battle. 

The  calm  beauty  and  repose  of  a  scene  so  lovely,  the  still- 
ness of  all  around,  and  the  more  matured  reflections  which 
the  whole  suggested,  quieted,  in  some  measure,  the  ap- 
prehensions which  the  events  of  the  evening  had  inspired. 
"  After  all,"  she  reflected,  "  why  should  I  be  so  anxious  on 
account  of  the  Lady  Eveline  ?  There  is  among  the  proud 
Normans  and  the  dogged  Saxons  scarce  a  single  family  of 
note  but  must  needs  be  held  distinguished  from  others  by 
some  superstitious  observance  peculiar  to  their  race,  as  if 
they  thought  it  scorn  to  go  to  Heaven  like  a  poor  simple 
Fleming  such  as  I  am.  Could  I  but  see  a  Norman  sentinel, 
1  would  hold  myself  satisfied  of  my  mistress's  security.  And 
yonder  one  stalks  along  the  gloom,  wrapt  in  his  long  white 
mantle,  and  the  moon  tipping  the  point  of  his  lance  with 
silver.     What  ho,  sir  cavalier  !  " 

The  Norman  turned  his  steps,  and  approached  the  ditch 
as  she  spoke.  "What  is  your  pleasure,  damsel?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"  The  window  next  to  mine  is  that  of  the  Lady  Eveline 
Berenger,  whom  you  are  appointed  to  guard.  Please  to  give 
heedful  watch  upon  this  side  of  the  castle." 

"  Doubt  it  not,  lady,"  answered  the  cavalier  ;  and,  en- 
veloping himself  in  his  long  chappe,  or  military  watch-cloak, 
he  withdrew  to  a  large  oak-tree  at  some  distance,  and  stood 
there  with  folded  arms,  and  leaning  on  his  lance,  more  like  a 
trophy  of  armor  than  a  living  warrior. 

Embolded  by  the  consciousness  that  in  case  of  need  succor 
was  close  at  hand,  Eose  drew  back  into  her  little  cham- 
ber, and  having  ascertained,  by  listening,  that  there  was 
no  noise  or  stirring  in  that  of  Eveline,  she  began  to 
make  some  preparations  for  her  own  repose.  For  this  pur- 
pose she  went  into  the  outward  ante-room,  where  Dame 
Gillian,  whose  fears  had  given  way  to  thesoporiferous  effects 
of  a  copious  draught  of  lithe-alos  (mild  ale,  of  the  first 
strength  and  quality),  slept  as  sound  a  sleep  as  that  generous 
Saxon  beverage  could  procure. 

Muttering  an  indignant  censure  on  her  sloth  and  indiffer- 


THE  BETROTHED  123 

enoe.  Rose  caught,  from  the  empty  couch  which  had  been 
destined  for  her  own  use,  the  upper  covering,  and  dragging 
it  with  her  into  the  inner  ante-room,  disposed  it  so  as,  with 
the  assistance  of  the  rushes  which  strewed  that  apartment, 
to  form  a  sort  of  couch,  upon  wliich,  half  seated,  half  re- 
clined, she  resolved  to  pass  the  night  in  as  close  attendance 
npon  lier  mistress  as  circumstances  permitted. 

Thus  seated,  her  eye  on  the  pale  planet  which  sailed  in 
'nil  glory  through  the  blue  sky  of  midnight,  she  proposed  to 
lerself  that  sleep  should  not  visit  her  eyelids  till  th^i  dawn 
)f  morning  should  assure  her  of  Eveline's  safety. 

Her  thoughts,  meanwhile,  rested  on  the  boundless  and 
shadowy  world  beyond  the  grave,  and  on  the  great,  and 
perhaps  yet  undecided,  question,  whether  the  separation  of 
its  inhabitants  from  those  of  this  temporal  sphere  is  absolute 
and  decided,  or  whether,  influenced  by  motives  which  we 
cannot  appreciate,  they  continue  to  hold  shadowy  communi- 
cation with  those  yet  existing  in  eartlily  reality  of  flesh  and 
blood  ?  To  have  denied  this  would,  in  the  age  of  crusades 
and  of  miracles,  have  incurred  the  guilt  of  heresy  ;  but 
Rose's  firm  good  sense  led  her  to  doubt  at  least  the  frequency 
of  supernatural  interference,  and  she  comforted  herself  with 
an  opinion,  contradicted,  however,  by  her  own  involuntary 
starts  and  shudderings  at  every  leaf  which  moved,  that,  in 
submitting  to  the  performance  of  the  rite  imposed  on  her, 
Eveline  incurred  no  real  danger,  and  only  sacrificed  to  an 
obsolete  family  superstition. 

As  this  conviction  strengthened  on  Rose's  mind,  her  pur- 
pose of  vigilance  began  to  decline  ;  her  thoughts  wandered 
to  objects  towards  which  they  were  not  directed,  like  sheep 
which  stray  beyond  the  charge  of  their  shepherd  ;  her  eyes 
no  longer  brought  back  to  her  a  distinct  apprehension  of  the 
broad,  round,  silvery  orb  on  which  they  continued  to  gaze. 
At  length  they  closed,  and  seated  on  the  folded  mantle,  her 
back  resting  against  the  wall  of  the  apartment,  and  her 
white  arms  folded  on  her  bosom.  Rose  Flammock  fell  fast 
asleep. 

Tier  repose  was  fearfully  broken  by  a  shrill  and  piercing 
shriek  from  the  apartment  where  her  lady  reposed.  To 
start  up  and  fly  to  the  door  was  the  work  of  a  moment  for 
"the  generous  girl,  who  never  permitted  fear  to  struggle  with 
love  or  duty.  The  door  was  secured  with  both  bar  and  bolt  ; 
and  another  fainter  scream,  or  rather  groan,  seemed  to  say, 
aid  must  be  instant,  or  in  vain.  Rose  next  rushed  to  the 
window,  and  screamed  rather  than  called  to  the  Norman 


124  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

Boldier,  who,  distinguished  by  the  white  folds  of  his  watch- 
cloak,  still  retained  his  position  under  the  old  oak-tree. 

At  the  cry  of  "Help-help  !  the  Lady  Eveline  is  murdered  ! " 
the  seeming  statue,  starting  at  once  into  active  exertion,  sped 
with  the  swiftness  of  a  race-horse  to  the  brink  of  the  moat, 
and  was  about  to  cross  it,  opposite  to  the  spot  where  Eose 
stood  at  the  open  casement,  urging  him  to  speed  by  voice 
and  gesture. 

"Not  here — not  here! ''she  exclaimed  with  breathless 
precipitation,  as  she  saw  him  make  towards  her — "the  win- 
dow to  the  right — scale  it,  for  God's  sake,  and  undo  the  door 
of  communication." 

The  soldier  seemed  to  comprehend  her ;  he  dashed  into 
the  moat  without  hesitation,  securing  himself  by  catching  at 
the  boughs  of  trees  as  he  descended.  In  one  moment  he 
vanished  among  the  underwood  ;  and  in  another,  availing 
himself  of  the  branches  of  a  dwarf  oak,  Eose  saw  him  upon 
her  right,  and  close  to  the  window  of  the  fatal  apartment. 
One  fear  remained — the  casement  might  be  secured  against 
entrance  from  without ;  but  no  !  at  the  thrust  of  the  Korman 
it  yielded,  and,  its  clasps  or  fastenings  being  worn  with  time, 
fell  inward  with  a  crash  which  even  Dame  Gillian's  slum- 
bers were  unable  to  resist. 

Echoing  scream  upon  scream,  in  the  usual  fashion  of 
fools  and  cowards,  she  entered  the  cabinet  from  the  ante- 
room, just  as  the  door  of  Eveline's  chamber  opened,  and  the 
soldier  appeared,  bearing  in  his  arms  the  half-undressed  and 
lifeless  form  of  the  Norman  maiden  herself.  Without 
speaking  a  word,  he  placed  her  in  Rose's  arms,  and,  with  the 
same  precipitation  with  which  he  had  entered,  threw  him- 
self out  of  the  opened  window  from  which  Eose  had  sum- 
moned him. 

Gillian,  half  distracted  with  fear  and  wonder,  heaped 
exclamations  on  questions,  and  mingled  questions  with  cries 
for  help,  till  Eose  sternly  rebuked  her  in  a  tone  which  seemed 
to  recall  her  scattered  senses.  She  became  then  composed 
enough  to  fetch  a  lamp  which  remained  lighted  in  the  room 
she  had  left,  and  to  render  herself  at  least  partly  useful  in 
suggesting  and  applying  the  usual  modes  for  recalling  the 
suspended  sense.  In  this  they  at  length  succeeded,  for 
Eveline  fetched  a  fuller  sigh,  and  opened  her  eyes  ;  but  pres- 
ently shut  them  again,  and  letting  her  head  drop  on  Eose's 
bosom,  fell  into  a  strong  shuddering  fit  ;  while  her  faithful 
damsel,  chafing  her  hands  and  her  temples  alternately  with 
affectionate  assiduity,  and  mingling  caresses  with  these  efforts. 


THE  BETROTHED  125 

exclaimed  aloud,  "  She  lives  !  She  is  recovering.  Praised 
be  God  ! " 

"  Praised  be  God  \"  was  echoed  in  a  solemn  tone  from  the 
window  of  the  apartment  ;  and  turning  towards  it  in  terror. 
Rose  beheld  the  armed  and  plumed  head  of  the  soldier  who 
had  come  so  opportunely  to  their  assistance,  and  who,  sup- 
ported by  his  arm,  had  raised  himself  so  high  as  to  be  able  to 
look  into  the  interior  of  the  cabinet. 

Rose  immediately  ran  towards  him.  "  Go — go,  good 
friend,"  she  said  ;  "  the  lady  recovers — your  rewrrd  shall 
await  you  another  time.  Go — begone  !  Yet  stay — keep  on 
your  post,  and  I  will  call  you  if  there  is  farther  need. 
Begone — be  faithful  and  be  secret." 

The  soldier  obeyed  without  answering  a  word,  and  she 
presently  saw  him  descend  into  the  moat.  Rose  then  re- 
turned back  to  her  mistress,  whom  she  found  supported  by 
Gillian,  moaning  feebly,  and  muttering  hurried  and  unintel- 
ligible ejaculations,  all  intimating  that  she  labored  under  a 
violent  shock  sustained  from  some  alarming  cause. 

Dame  Gillian  had  no  sooner  recovered  some  degree  of  self- 
possession  than  her  curiosity  became  active  in  proportion. 
"  What  means  all  this  ?"  she  said  to  Rose — "  what  has  been 
doing  among  you  ?" 

''  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Rose. 

"  If  you  do  not,"  said  Gillian,  "  who  should  ?  Shall  I 
call  the  other  women  and  raise  the  house  ?  " 

*' Xot  for  your  life,"  said  Rose,  "till  my  lady  is  able  to 
give  her  own  orders  ;  and  for  this  apartment,  so  help  me 
Heaven,  as  I  will  do  my  best  to  discover  the  secrets  it  con- 
tains !     Support  my  mistress  the  whilst." 

So  saying,  she  took  the  lamp  in  her  hand,  and,  crossing 
her  brow,  stepped  boldly  across  the  mysterious  threshold, 
and,  holding  up  the  light,  surveyed  the  apartment. 

It  was  merely  an  old  vaulted  chamber  of  very  moderate 
dimensions.  In  one  corner  was  an  image  of  the  Virgin, 
rudely  cut,  and  placed  above  a  Saxon  font  of  curious  work- 
manship. There  were  two  seats,  and  a  couch  covered  with 
coarse  tapestry,  on  which  it  seemed  that  Eveline  had  been 
reposing.  The  fragments  of  the  shattered  casement  lay  on 
the  floor  ;  but  that  opening  had  been  only  made  when  the 
soldier  forced  it  in,  and  she  saw  no  other  access  by  which  a 
stranger  could  have  entered  an  apartment  the  ordinary 
access  to  which  was  barred  and  bolted. 

Rose  felt  the  influence  of  those  terrors  which  she  had 
hitherto  surmounted  ;  she  cast  her  mantle  hastily  around  her 


126  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

head,  as  if  to  shroud  her  sight  from  some  hlighting  vision, 
and  tripping  back  to  the  cabinet  with  more  speed  and  a  less 
firm  step  than  when  she  left  it,  she  directed  Gillian  to  lend 
her  assistance  in  conveying  Eveline  to  the  next  room  ;  and 
having  done  so,  carefully  secured  the  door  of  communica- 
tion, as  if  to  put  a  barrier  betwixt  them  and  the  suspected 
danger. 

The  Lady  Eveline  was  now  so  far  recovered  that  she 
could  sit  up,  and  was  trying  to  speak,  though  but  faintly. 
"  Rose,"  she  said  at  length,  '^  I  have  seen  her — my  doom  is 
sealed." 

Rose  immediately  recollected  the  imprudence  of  suffering 
Gillian  to  hear  what  her  mistress  might  say  at  such  an  awful 
moment,  and  hastily  adopting  the  proj^osal  she  had  before 
declined,  desired  her  to  go  and  call  other  two  maidens  of 
their  mistress's  household. 

"And  where  am  I  to  find  them  in  this  house,"  said  Dame 
Gillian,  "  where  strange  men  run  about  one  chamber  at 
midnight,  and  devils,  for  aught  I  know,  frequent  the  rest 
of  the  habitation  ?  " 

" Find  them  where  you  can,"  said  Rose,  sharply  ;  "but 
begone  presently." 

Gillian  withdrew  lingeringly,  and  muttering  at  the  same 
time  something  which  could  not  distinctly  be  understood. 
No  sooner  was  she  gone  than  Rose,  giving  way  to  the  enthu- 
siastic affection  which  she  felt  for  her  mistress,  implored  her, 
in  the  most  tender  terms,  to  "  Open  her  eyes  (for  she  had 
again  closed  them),  and  speak  to  Rose,  her  own  Rose,  who 
was  ready,  if  necessary,  to  die  by  her  mistress's  side." 

"  To-morrow — to-morrow.  Rose,''  murmured  Eveline  ,  "I 
cannot  speak  at  present." 

"  Only  disburden  your  mind  with  one  word  :  tell  what 
has  thus  alarmed  you — what  danger  you  apprehend." 

"I  have  seen  her,"  answered  Eveline — "  I  have  seen  the 
tenant  of  yonder  chamber — the  vision  fatal  to  my  race  ! 
Urge  me  no  more  ;  to-morrow  you  shall  know  all."  * 

As  Gillian  entered  with  two  of  the  maidens  of  her  mis- 
tress's household,  they  removed  the  Lady  Eveline,  by  Rose's 
directions,  into  a  chamber  at  some  distance,  which  the  lat- 
ter had  occupied,  and  placed  her  in  one  of  their  beds,  where 
Rose,  dismissing  the  others  (Gillian  excepted)  to  seek  repose 
where  they  could  find  it,  continued  to  Avatch  her  mistress. 
For   some  time  she  continued  very  much  disturbed,  but, 

*  See  Bahr-geiat.    Note  10. 


THE  BETROTHED  127 

gradually,  fatigue,  and  the  influence  of  some  narcotic  which 
Gillian  had  sense  enough  to  recommend  and  prepare,  seemed 
to  compose  her  spirits.  She  fell  into  a  deep  slumber,  from 
which  she  did  not  awaken  until  the  sun  was  high  oyer  the 
distant  hills. 


CHAPTER  XV 

I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see. 

Which  beckons  me  away  ; 
I  hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear. 

Which  says  I  must  not  stay. 

IMallet. 

When  Eveline  first  opened  her  eyes,  it  seemed  to  be 
without  any  recollection  of  what  had  passed  on  the  night 
preceding.  Slie  looked  round  the  apartment,  which  was 
coarsely  and  scantily  furnished,  as  one  destined  for  the  use 
of  domestics  and  menials,  and  said  to  Eose,  with  a  smile, 
''  Our  good  kinswoman  maintains  the  ancient  Saxon  hos- 
pitality at  a  homely  rate,  so  far  as  lodging  is  concerned.  I 
could  Lave  willingly  parted  with  last  night's  pi'ofuse  supper, 
to  have  obtained  a  bed  of  a  softer  texture.  Methinks  my 
limbs  feel  as  if  I  had  been  under  all  the  flails  of  a  franklin's 
barnyard." 

"1  am  glad  to  see  you  so  pleasant,  madam,"  answered 
Eose,  discreetly  avoiding  any  reference  to  the  events  of  the 
night  before. 

Dame  Gillian  was  not  so  scrupulous.  ''  Your  ladyship 
last  night  lay  down  on  a  better  bed  than  this,"  she  said, 
''unless  I  am  much  mistaken;  and  Eose  Flammock  and 
yourself  know  best  why  you  left  it." 

If  a  look  could  have  killed.  Dame  Gillian  would  have 
been  in  deadly  peril  from  that  which  Eose  shot  at  her,  by 
"way  of  rebuke  for  this  ill-advised  communication.  It  had 
instantly  the  effect  which  was  to  be  apprehended,  for  Lady 
Eveline  seemed  at  first  surprised  and  confused,  then,  as 
recollections  of  the  past  arranged  themselves  in  her  memory, 
she  folded  her  hands,  looked  on  the  ground,  and  wept  bit- 
terly, with  much  agitation. 

Eose  entreated  her  to  be  comforted,  and  offered  to  fetch 
the  old  Saxon  chaplain  of  the  house  to  administer  spiritual 
consolation,  if  her  grief  rejected  temporal  comfort. 

"  Xo,  call  him  not,"  said  Eveline,  raising  her  head  and 

drying  her  eyes;   *' I  have  had  enough  of  Saxon  kindness. 

What  a  fool  was  I  to  expect,  in  that  hard  and   unfeeling 

woman,  any  commiseration  for  my  youth — my  late  suffer 

128 


THE  BETROTHED  129 

ings — my  orphan  condition  !  I  will  not  permit  her  a  poor 
triumph  over  the  Norman  blood  of  Berenger,  by  letting  her 
see  how  much  I  have  suffered  under  her  inhuman  infliction. 
But  first,  Rose,  answer  me  truly,  was  any  intimate  of  Bald- 
ringham  witness  to  my  distress  last  night  ?" 

Eose  assured  her  that  she  had  been  tended  exclusively  by 
her  own  retinue,  herself  and  Gillian,  Blanche  and  Ternotte. 

She  seemed  to  receive  satisfaction  from  this  assurance. 
-'  Hear  me,  both  of  you,"  she  said,  "  and  observe  my  words, 
as  you  love  and  as  you  fear  me.  Let  no  syllable  be  breathed 
from  your  lips  of  what  has  happened  this  night.  Carry  the 
same  charge  to  my  maidens.  Lend  me  thine  instant  aid, 
Gillian,  and  thine,  my  dearest  Rose,  to  change  these  dis- 
ordered garments  and  arrange  this  disheveled  hair.  It  was 
a  poor  vengeance  she  souglit,  and  all  because  of  my  country. 
I  am  resolved  she  shall  not  see  the  slightest  trace  of  the 
sufferings  she  has  inflicted." 

As  she  spoke  thus,  her  eyes  flashed  with  indignation, 
which  seemed  to  dry  up  the  tears  that  had  before  filled  them. 
Rose  saw  the  change  of  her  manner  with  a  mixture  of  pleas- 
ure and  concern,  being  aware  that  her  mistress's  predomi- 
nant failing  was  incident  to  her,  as  a  spoiled  child,  who, 
accustomed  to  be  treated  with  kindness,  deference,  and 
indulgence  by  all  around  her,  was  apt  to  resent  warmly 
whatever  resembled  neglect  or  contradiction. 

"  God  knows,"  said  the  faithful  bower-maiden,  "  I  would 
hold  my  hand  out  to  catch  drops  of  molton  lead,  rather  than 
endure  your  tears  ;  and  yet,  my  sweet  mistress,  I  would 
rather  at  present  see  you  grieved  than  angry.  This  ancient 
lady  hath,  it  would  seem,  but  acted  according  to  some  old 
superstitious  rite  of  her  family,  which  is  in  part  yours.  _  Her 
name  is  respectable,  both  from  her  conduct  and  possessions  ; 
and,  hard-pressed  as  you  are  by  the  Normans,  with  whom 
your  kinswoman,  the  prioress,  is  sure  to  take  part,  1  was  in 
hope  you  might  have  had  some  shelter  and  countenance 
from  the  Lady  of  Baldringham." 

"  Never,  Rose — never,"  answered  Eveline  ;  ''  you  know 
not — you  cannot  guess  what  she  has  made  me  suffer,  expos- 
ing me  to  witchcraft  and  fiends.  Thyself  said  it,  and  said  it 
truly — the  Saxons  are  still  half  pagans,  void  of  Christianity, 
as  of  nature  and  kindliness." 

''Ay,  but,"  replied  Rose,  "  I  spoke  then  to  dissuade  you 
from  a  danger  ;  now  that  the  danger  is  passed  and  over,  I 
may  judge  of  it  otherwise." 

"Speak  not  for  them.  Rose,"  replied  Eveline,  angrily  ; 
9 


130  WAVEBLET  NOVELS 

'*  no  innocent  victim  was  ever  offered  np  at  the  altar  of  a 
fiend  with  more  indifference  than  my  father's  kinswoman 
delivered  up  me — me  an  orphan,  bereaved  of  my  natural  and 
powerful  support.  I  hate  her  cruelty — I  hate  her  house — I 
hate  the  thought  of  all  that  has  happened  here — of  all,  Rose, 
except  thy  matchless  faith  and  fearless  attachment.  Go. 
bid  our  train  saddle  directly  ;  I  will  be  gone  instantly.  I 
will  not  attire  myself,"  she  added,  rejecting  the  assistance 
she  had  at  first  required — "  I  will  have  no  ceremony — tarry 
for  no  leave-taking." 

In  the  hurried  and  agitated  manner  of  her  mistress.  Rose 
recognized  with  anxiety  another  mood  of  the  same  irritable 
and  excited  temperament  which  had  before  discharged  itself 
in  tears  and  fits.  But  perceiving,  at  the  same  time,  that 
remonstrance  Avas  in  vain,  she  gave  the  necessary  orders  for 
collecting  their  company,  saddling,  and  preparing  for  de- 
parture ;  hoping  that,  as  her  mistress  removed  to  a  farther 
distance  from  the  scene  where  her  mind  had  received  so 
severe  a  shock,  her  equanimity  might,  by  degrees,  he  re- 
stored. 

Dame  Gillian,  accordingly,  was  busied  with  arranging  the 
packages  of  her  lady,  and  all  the  rest  of  Lady  Eveline's 
retinue  in  preparing  for  instant  departure,  when,  preceded 
by  her  steward,  who  acted  also  as  a  sort  of  gentleman-usher, 
leaning  upon  her  confidential  BerAvine,  and  followed  by  two 
or  three  more  of  the  most  distinguished  of  her  household, 
Avith  looks  of  displeasure  on  her  ancient  yet  lofty  brow,  the 
Lady  Ermengarde  entered  the  appartment. 

Eveline,  witli  a  trembling  and  hurried  hand,  a  burning 
cheek,  and  other  signs  of  agitation,  was  herself  busied  about 
the  arrangement  of  some  baggage,  when  her  relation  made 
her  appearance.  At  once,  to  Rose's  great  surprise,  she 
exerted  a  strong  command  over  herself,  and,  repressing 
every  external  appearance  of  disorder,  she  advanced  to  meet 
her  relation,  with  a  calm  and  haughty  stateliness  equal  to 
her  own. 

"  I  come  to  give  you  good-morning,  our  niece,"  said 
Ermengarde,  haughtily  indeed,  yet  with  more  deference 
than  she  seemed  at  first  to  have  intended,  so  much  did  the 
bearing  of  Eveline  impose  respect  upon  her.  "  I  find  that 
you  have  been  jjleased  to  shift  that  chamber  which  was 
assigned  you,  in  conformity  with  the  ancient  custom  of 
this  household,  and  betake  yourself  to  the  apartment  of  a 
menial." 

"Are  you  surprised  at  that,  lady  ?"  demanded  Eveline  in 


THE  BETROTHED  131 

her  turn  ;  "  or  are  you  disappointed  that  you  find  me  not  a 
corpse,  within  the  limits  of  the  chamber  which  your  hospi- 
tality and  affection  allotted  to  me  ?" 

"  Your  sleep,  then,  has  been  broken  ?"  said  Ermengarde, 
looking  fixedly  at  the  Lady  Eveline  as  she  spoke. 

"^  If  I  complain  not,  madam,  the  evil  must  be  deemed  of 
little  consequence.  What  has  happened  is  over  and  past, 
and  it  is  not  my  intention  to  trouble  you  with  the  recital." 

"  She  of  the  ruddy  finger,"  replied  Ermengarde,  trium- 
phantly,  "loves  not  the  blood  of  the  stranger." 

"  She  had  less  reason,  while  she  walked  the  earth,  to  love 
that  of  the  Saxon,"  said  Eveline,  "  unless  her  legend  speaks 
false  in  that  matter  ;  and  unless,  as  I  well  suspect,  your 
house  is  haunted,  not  by  the  soul  of  the  dead  who  suffered 
within  its  walls,  but  by  evil  spirits,  such  as  the  descendants 
of  Ilengist  and  Horsa  are  said  still  in  secret  to  worship." 

"  You  are  pleasant,  maiden,"  replied  the  old  lady,  scorn- 
fully, "  or,  if  your  words  are  meant  in  earnest,  the  shaft  of 
your  censure  has  glanced  aside.  A  house  blessed  by  the 
holy  St.  Dunstan  and  by  the  royal  and  holy  Confessor  is  no 
abode  for  evil  spirits." 

''The  house  of  Baldringham,"  replied  Eveline,  ''is  no 
abode  for  those  who  fear  such  spirits  ;  and  as  I  will,  with  all 
humility,  avow  myself  of  the  number,  I  shall  presently 
leave  it  to  the  custody  of  St.  Dunstan." 

"  Not  till  you  have  broken  your  fast,  I  trust  ? "  said  the 
Lady  of  Baldringham  ;  "you  will  not,  I  hope,  do  my  years 
and  our  relationship  such  foul  disgrace  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  madam,"  replied  the  Lady  Eveline  ;  "those 
who  have  experienced  your  hospitality  at  night  have  little 
occasion  for  breakfast  in  the  morning.  Rose,  are  not  those 
loitering  knaves  assembled  in  the  courtyard,  or  are  they  yet 
on  their  couches,  making  up  for  the  slumber  they  have  lost 
by  midnight  disturbances  ?" 

Rose  announced  that  her  train  was  in  the  court,  and 
mounted  ;  when,  with  a  low  reverence,  Eveline  endeavored 
to  pass  her  relation,  and  leave  the  apartment  without  far- 
ther ceremony.  Ermengarde  at  first  confronted  her  with  a 
grim  and  furious  glance,  which  seemed  to  show  a  soul 
fraught  with  more  rage  than  the  thin  blood  and  rigid 
features  of  extreme  old  age  had  the  power  of  expressing, 
and  raised  her  ebony  staff  as  if  about  even  to  proceed  to 
some  act  of  personal  violence.  But  she  changed  her  pur- 
pose, and  suddenly  made  way  for  Eveline,  who  passed  with- 
out farther  parley ;  and  as  she  descended  the  staircase 


132  fir  A  VEitLEY  NOVELS 

which  conducted  from  the  apartment  to  the  gateway,  she 
heard  the  voice  of  her  aunt  behind  her,  like  that  of  an 
aged  and  offended  sibyl,  denouncing  wrath  and  woe  upon 
her  insolence  and  presumption. 

"Pride,"  she  exclaimed,  '^'goetli  before  destruction,  and 
a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall.  She  who  scorneth  the  house 
of  her  forefathers,  a  stone  from  its  battlements  shall  crush 
her  !  She  who  mocks  the  gray  hairs  of  a  parent,  never  shall 
one  of  her  own  locks  be  silvered  with  age  !  She  who  weds 
Avith  a  man  of  war  and  of  blood,  her  end  shall  neither  be 
peaceful  nor  bloodless  !  " 

Hurrying  to  escape  from  these  and  other  ominous  denun- 
ciations, Eveline  rushed  from  the  house,  mounted  her 
palfrey  with  the  precipitation  of  a  fugitive,  and,  surrounded 
by  her  attendants,  who  had  caught  a  part  of  her  alarm, 
though  without  conjecturing  the  cause,  rode  hastily  into 
the  forest ;  old  Eaoul,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
country,  acting  as  their  guide. 

Agitated  more  than  she  was  willing  to  confess  to  herself, 
by  thus  leaving  the  habitation  of  so  near  a  relation,  loaded 
with  maledictions  instead  of  the  blessings  which  are  usually 
bestowed  on  a  parting  kinswoman,  Eveline  hastened  for- 
ward, until  the  huge  oak  trees  with  intervening  arms  had 
hidden  from  her  view  the  fatal  mansion. 

The  trampling  and  galloping  of  horse  was  soon  after 
heard,  announcing  the  approach  of  the  patrol  left  by  the 
Constable  for  the  protection  of  the  mansion,  and  who  now, 
collecting  from  their  different  stations,  came  prepared  to 
attend  the  Lady  Eveline  on  her  farther  road  to  Gloucester, 
great  part  of  which  lay  through  the  extensive  forest  of 
Dean,  then  a  silvan  region  of  large  extent,  though  now 
much  denuded  of  trees  for  the  service  of  the  iron  mines. 
The  cavaliers  came  up  to  join  the  retinue  of  Lady  Eveline, 
with  armor  glittering  in  the  morning  rays,  trumpets  sound- 
ing, horses  prancing,  neighing,  and  thrown,  each  by  his 
chivalrous  rider,  into  the  attitude  best  qualified  to  exhibit 
the  beauty  of  the  steed  and  dexterity  of  the  horseman; 
while  their  lances,  streaming  with  long  penoncelles,  were 
brandished  in  every  manner  which  could  display  elation  of 
heart  and  readiness  of  hand.  The  sense  of  the  military 
character  of  her  countrymen  of  Normandy  gave  to  Eveline  a 
feeling  at  once  of  security  and  triumph,  which  operated  to- 
wards the  dispelling  of  her  gloomy  thoughts,  and  of  the 
feverish  disorder  which  affected  her  nerves.  The  rising  sun 
also,  the  song  of  the  birds  among  the  bowers,  the  lowing  of 


THE  BETROTHED  133 

the  cattle  as  they  were  driven  to  pasture,  the  sight  of  the 
hind,  who,  with  her  fawn  trotting  by  her  side,  often  crossed 
some  forest  ghide  within  view  of  the  travelers — all  contrib- 
uted to  dispel  the  terror  of  Eveline's  nocturnal  visions,  and 
soothe  to  rest  the  more  angry  passions  which  had  agitated  her 
bosom  at  her  departure  from  Baldringham.  She  suffered  her 
palfrey  to  slacken  his  pace,  and,  with  female  attention  to 
propriety,  began  to  adjust  her  riding-robes  and  compose  her 
head-dress,  disordered  in  her  hasty  departure,  Eose  saw  her 
cheek  assume  a  paler  but  more  settled  hue,  instead  of  the 
angry  hectic  which  had  colored  it,  saw  her  eye  become  more 
steady  as  she  looked  with  a  sort  of  triumph  upon  her  mili- 
tary attendants,  and  pardoned,  what  on  other  occasions  she 
would  probably  have  made  some  reply  to,  her  enthusiastic 
exclamations  in  praise  of  her  countrymen. 

"  We  journey  safe,"  said  Eveline,  "  under  the  care  of  the 
princely  and  victorious  Normans.  Theirs  is  the  noble  wrath 
of  the  lion,  which  destroys  or  is  appeased  at  once  ;  there  is 
no  guile  in  their  romantic  affection,  no  sullenness  mixed  with 
their  generous  indignation  ;  they  know  the  duties  of  the  hall 
as  well  as  those  of  battle ;  and  were  they  to  be  surpassed  in 
the  arts  of  war,  which  will  only  be  when  Plinlimmon  is  re- 
moved from  its  base,  they  would  still  remain  superior  to 
every  other  people  in  generosity  and  courtesy." 

"  If  I  do  not  feel  all  their  merits  so  strongly  as  if  I  shared 
their  blood,"  said  Rose,  "  I  am  at  least  glad  to  see  them  around 
us,  in  woods  which  are  said  to  abound  with  dangers  of  vari- 
ous kinds.  And  I  confess  my  heart  is  the  lighter  that  I  can 
now  no  longer  observe  the  least  vestige  of  that  ancient  man- 
sion, in  which  we  passed  so  unpleasant  a  night,  and  the  rec- 
ollection of  which  will  always  be  odious  to  me." 

Eveline  looked  sharply  at  her.  "  Confess  the  truth,  Rose  ; 
thou  wouldst  give  thy  best  kirtle  to  know  all  of  my  horrible 
adventure." 

''  It  is  but  confessing  that  I  am  a  woman,"  answered  Rose  ; 
"and  did  I  say  a  man,  I  daresay  the  difference  of  sex  would 
imply  but  a  small  abatement  of  curiosity." 

"  Thou  makest  no  parade  of  other  feelings  which  prompt 
thee  to  inquire  into  my  fortunes,"  said  Eveline ;  "  but, 
svveet  Rose,  I  give  thee  not  the  less  credit  for  them.  Be- 
lieve me,  thou  shalt  know  all — but,  I  think,  not  now." 

"  At  your  pleasure,"  said  Rose  ;  "■  and  yet,  methinks,  the 
bearing  in  your  solitary  bosom  such  a  fearful  secret  will  only 
render  the  weight  more  intolerable.  On  my  silence  you  may 
rely  as  on  that  of  the  Holy  Image,  which  hears  us  confess 


134  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

what  it  never  reveals.  Besides  sucli  things  become  familiar 
to  the  imagination  when  they  have  been  spoken  of,  and  that 
which  is  familiar  gradually  becomes  stripped  of  its  terrors." 

"  Thou  speakest  with  reason,  my  prudent  Rose  ;  and  surely 
in  this  gallant  troop,  borne  like  a  flower  on  a  bush  by  my 
good  palfrey  Yseulte,  fresh  gales  blowing  round  us,  flowers 
opening  and  birds  singing,  and  having  thee  by  my  bridle- 
rein,  I  ought  to  feel  this  a  fltting  time  to  communicate  what 
thou  hast  so  good  a  title  to  know.  And — yes  !  thou  shalt 
know  all  !  Thou  art  not,  I  presume,  ignorant  of  the  quali- 
ties of  what  the  Saxons  of  this  land  call  a  hahr-geist  ?  " 

''Pardon  me,  lady,"  answered  Rose,  "my  father  dis- 
couraged my  listening  to  such  discourses.  I  might  see  evil 
spirits  enough,  he  said,  without  my  imagination  being  taught 
to  form  such  as  were  fantastical.  The  word  'bahr-geist'  I 
have  heard  used  by  Gillian  and  other  Saxons  ;  but  to  me  it 
only  conveys  some  idea  of  indeflnite  terror,  of  which  I  have 
never  asked  nor  received  an  explanation." 

"  Know  then,"  said  Eveline,  "  it  is  a  specter,  usually  the 
image  of  a  departed  person,  who,  either  for  wrong  sustained 
in  some  particular  place  during  life,  or  through  treasure  hid- 
den there,  or  from  some  such  other  cause,  haunts  the  spot 
from  time  to  time,  becomes  familiar  to  those  who  dwell  there, 
takes  an  interest  in  their  fate,  occasionally  for  good,  in  other 
instances  or  times  for  evil.  The  bahr-geist  is,  therefore, 
sometimes  regarded  as  the  good  genius,  sometimes  as  the 
avenging  flend,  attached  to  particular  families  and  classes  of 
men.  It  is  the  lot  of  the  family  of  Baldringham — of  no 
mean  note  in  other  respects — to  be  subject  to  the  visits  of 
such  a  being." 

"  May  I  ask  the  cause,  if  it  be  known,  of  such  visitation  ?" 
said  Rose,  desirous  to  avail  herself  to  the  uttermost  of  the 
communicative  mood  of  her  young  lady,  which  might  not 
perhaps  last  very  long. 

"  I  know  the  legend  but  imperfectly,"  replied  Eveline  pro- 
ceeding with  a  degree  of  calmness,  the  result  of  strong  exertion 
over  her  mental  anxiety,  "but  in  general  it  runs  tluis  : — 
Baldrick,  the  Saxon  hero  who  first  possessed  yonder  dwell- 
ing, became  enamored  of  a  fair  Briton,  said  to  have  been 
descended  from  those  Druids  of  whom  the  Welsh  speak  so 
much,  and  deemed  not  unacquainted  with  the  arts  of  sorcery 
which  they  practised,  when  they  offered  up  human  sacrifices 
amid  those  circles  of  unhewn  and  living  rock,  of  which 
thou  hast  seen  so  many.  After  more  than  two  years'  wed- 
lock, Baldrick  became  weary  of  his  wife  to  such  a  point,  that 


i' 


TBE  BETROTHED  135 

he  formed  the  cruel  resolution  of  putting  her  to  death. 
Some  say  he  doubted  her  fidelity  ;  some  that  the  matter  was 
pressed  on  him  by  the  church,  as  slie  was  suspected  of 
heresy ;  some  that  he  removed  her  to  make  way  for  a 
more  wealthy  marriage  ;  but  all  agree  in  the  result.  He 
sent  two  of  his  cnichts  to  the  house  of  Baldringham,  to  put 
to  death  the  unfortunate  Vanda,  and  commanded  them  to 
bring  him  the  ring  which  had  circled  her  finger  on  the  day 
of  wedlock,  in  token  that  his  orders  were  accomplished. 
The  men  were  ruthless  in  their  office  :  they  strangled  Vanda 
i7i  yonder  apartment,  and  as  the  hand  was  so  swollen  that 
no  effort  could  draw  off  the  ring,  they  obtained  possession  of 
it  by  severing  the  finger.  But  long  before  the  return  of 
those  cruel  perpetrators  of  her  death,  the  shadow  of  Vanda 
had  appeared  before  her  appalled  husband,  and  holding  up 
to  him  her  bloody  hand,  made  him  fearfully  sensible  how 
well  his  savage  commands  had  been  obeyed.  After  haunting 
him  in  peace  and  war,  in  desert,  court,  and  camp,  until  he 
died  despairingly  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land,  the 
bahr-geist,  or  ghost,  of  the  murdered  Vanda  became  so  ter- 
rible in  the  house  of  Baldringham  that  the  succor  of  St. 
Dunstan  was  itself  scarcely  sufficient  to  put  bounds  to  her 
visitation.  Yea,  the  blessed  saint,  when  he  had  succeeded 
in  his  exorcism,  did,  in  requital  of  Baldrick's  crime,  impose 
a  strong  and  enduring  penalty  upon  every  female  descendant 
of  the  house  in  the  third  degree  ;  namely,  that  once  in  their 
lives,  and  before  their  twenty-first  year,  they  should  each 
spend  a  solitary  night  in  the  chamber  of  the  murdered 
Vanda,  saying  therein  certain  prayers,  as  well  for  her  repose 
as  for  the  suffering  soul  of  her  murderer.  During  that 
awful  space,  it  is  generally  believed  that  the  spirit  of  the 
murdered  person  appears  to  the  female  who  observes  the 
vigil,  and  shows  some  sign  of  her  future  good  or  bad  for- 
tune. If  favorable,  she  appears  with  a  smiling  aspect,  and 
crosses  them  with  her  unbloodied  hand  ;  but  she  announces 
evil  fortune  by  showing  the  hand  from  which  the  finger  was 
severed,  with  a  stern  countenance,  as  if  resenting  upon  the 
descendant  of  her  husband  his  inhuman  cruelty.  Some- 
times she  is  said  to  speak.  These  particulars  I  learned  long 
since  from  an  old  Saxon  dame,  the  mother  of  our  Margery, 
who  had  been  an  attendant  on  my  grandmother,  and  left  the 
house  of  Baldringham  when  she  made  her  escape  from  it 
with  my  father's  father." 

"  Did  your  grandmother  ever  render  this  homage,"  said 
Eose,  *'  which  seems  to  me — under  favor  of  St.  Dunstan — to 


136  WAVEitLEY  NOVELS 

bring  humanity  into  too  close  intercourse  with  a  being  of  a 
doubtful  nature  ?" 

''My  grandfather  thought  so,  and  never  permitted  my 
grandmother  to  revisit  the  house  of  Baldringham  after  her 
marriage  ;  hence  disunion  betwixt  him  and  his  son  on  the 
one  part  and  the  members  of  that  family  on  the  other. 
They  laid  sundry  misfortunes,  and  particularly  the  loss  of 
male  heirs  which  at  that  time  befell  them,  to  my  parent's 
not  having  done  the  hereditary  homage  to  the  bloody-fin- 
gered bahr-geist." 

"  And  how  could  you,  my  dearest  lady,''  said  Eose,  "  know- 
ing that  they  held  among  them  a  usage  so  hideous,  think  of 
accepting  the  invitation  of  Lady  Ermengarde  ?" 

"I  can  hardly  answer  you  the  question,"  replied  Eveline. 
"Partly  I  feared  my  father's  recent  calamity,  to  be  slain,  as 
I  have  heard  him  say  his  aunt  once  prophesied  of  him,  by 
the  enemy  he  most  despised,  might  be  the  result  of  this  rite 
having  been  neglected  ;  and  partly  I  hoped  that,  if  my 
mind  should  be  appalled  at  the  danger,  when  it  presented 
itself  closer  to  my  eye,  it  could  not  be  urged  on  me  in  cour- 
tesy and  humanity.  You  saw  how  soon  my  cruel-hearted 
relative  pounced  upon  the  opportunity,  and  hoAV  impossible 
it  became  for  me,  bearing  the  name,  and,  I  trust,  the  spirit, 
of  Berenger,  to  escape  from  the  net  in  which  I  had  involved 
myself." 

"  No  regard  for  name  or  rank  should  have  engaged  me," 
replied  Rose,  *''  to  place  myself  where  apprehension  alone, 
even  without  the  terrors  of  a  real  visitation,  might  have  pun- 
ished my  presumption  with  insanity.  But  what,  in  the 
name  of  Heaven,  did  you  see  at  this  horrible  rendezvous  ?" 

''Ay,  there  is  the  question,"  said  Eveline,  raising  her 
hand  to  her  brow — "  how  I  could  witness  that  which  I  dis- 
tinctly saw,  yet  be  able  to  retain  command  of  thought  and 
intellect !  I  had  recited  the  prescribed  devotions  for  the 
murderer  and  his  victim,  and  sitting  down  on  the  couch 
which  was  assigned  me,  had  laid  aside  such  of  my  clothes  as 
might  impede  my  rest — I  had  surmounted,  in  short,  the 
first  shock  which  I  experienced  in  committing  myself  to  this 
mysterious  chamber,  and  I  hoped  to  pass  the  night  in 
slumber  as  sound  as  my  thoughts  were  innocent.  But  I  was 
fearfully  disappointed.  I  cannot  judge  how  long  I  had 
slept,  when  my  bosom  was  oppressed  by  an  unusual  weight, 
which  seemed  at  once  to  stifle  my  voice,  stop  the  beating  of 
my  heart,  and  prevent  me  from  drawing  my  breath  ;  and 
when  I  looked  up  to  discover  the  cause  of  this  horrible  suf* 


THE  BETROTHED  137 

focation,  the  form  of  the  murdered  British  matron  stood 
over  my  couch,  taller  than  life,  shadowy,  and  with  a  coun- 
tenance where  traits  of  dignity  and  beauty  were  mingled 
with  a  fierce  expression  of  vengeful  exultation.  She  held 
over  me  the  hand  which  bore  the  bloody  marks  of  her  hus- 
band's cruelty,  and  seemed  as  if  she  signed  the  cross,  devot- 
ing me  to  destruction  ;  while,  with  an  unearthly  tone,  she 
uttered  these  words — 

"  Widow'd  wife  and  wedded  maid. 
Betrothed,  betrayer,  and  betray'd  !  " 

The  phantom  stooped  over  me  as  she  spoke,  and  lowered 
her  gory  fingers,  as  if  to  touch  my  face,  when,  terror  giving 
me  the  power  of  which  at  first  it  had  deprived  me,  I 
screamed  aloud — the  casement  of  the  apartment  was  thrown 

open  with  a  loud  noise — and But  what  signifies  my 

telling  all  this  to  thee.  Rose,  who  show  so  plainly,  by  the 
movement  of  eye  and  lip,  that  you  consider  me  as  a  silly 
and  childish  dreamer  ?  " 

"  Be  not  angry,  my  dear  lady,"  said  Rose  ;  "  I  do  indeed 
believe  that  the  witch  we  call  Mara  has  been  dealing  with 
you  ;  but  she,  you  know,  is  by  leeches  considered  no  real 
phantom,  but  solely  the  creation  of  our  own  imagination, 
disordered  by  causes  which  arise  from  bodily  indisposition." 

"  Thou  art  learned,  maiden,"  said  Eveline,  rather  peev- 
ishly ;  "  but  when  I  assure  thee  that  my  better  angel  came 
to  my  assistance  in  a  human  form,  that  at  his  appearance 
the  fiend  vanished,  and  that  he  transported  me  in  his  arms 
out  of  the  chamber  of  terror,  I  think  thou  wilt,  as  a  good 
Christian,  put  more  faith  in  that  which  I  tell  you." 

*'  Indeed — indeed,  my  sweetest  mistress,  I  cannot,"  replied 
Rose.  "It  is  even  that  circumstance  of  the  guardian  angel 
which  makes  me  consider  the  whole  as  a  dream.  A  Norman 
sentinel,  whom  I  myself  called  from  his  post  on  purpose, 
did  indeed  come  to  your  assistance,  and,  breaking  into  your 
apartment,  transported  you  to  that  where  I  myself  received 
you  from  his  arms  in  a  lifeless  condition." 

"A  Norman  soldier,  ha!"  said  Eveline,  coloring  ex- 
tremely; "and  to  whom,  maiden,  did  you  dare  give  com- 
mission to  break  into  my  sleeping-chamber  ?'* 

"Your  eyes  flash  anger,  madam,  but  is  it  reasonable  they 
should  ?  Did  I  not  hear  your  screams  of  agony,  and  was  I 
to  stand  fettered  by  ceremony  at  such  a  moment  ? — no  more 
than  if  the  castle  had  been  on  fire." 


188  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

"  I  ask  you  again,  Rose/'  said  her  mistress,  still  with  dis- 
composure, though  less  angrily  than  at  first,  "  whom  you 
directed  to  break  into  my  apartment  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  know  not,  lady,"  said  Rose  ;  "  for,  besides 
that  he  was  muffled  in  his  mantle,  little  chance  was  there  of 
my  knowing  his  features,  even  had  I  seen  them  fully.  But 
I  can  soon  discover  the  cavalier  ;  and  I  will  set  about  it, 
that  I  may  give  him  the  reward  1  promised,  and  warn  him 
him  to  be  silent  and  discreet  in  this  matter." 

"Do  so,"  said  Eveline;  *'and  if  you  find  him  among 
those  soldiers  who  attend  us,  I  will  indeed  lean  to  thine 
opinion,  and  think  that  fantasy  had  the  chief  share  in  the 
evils  I  have  endured  the  last  night." 

Rose  struck  her  palfrey  with  the  rod,  and  accompanied 
by  her  mistress,  rode  up  to  Philip  Guariue,  the  Constable's 
squire,  who  for  the  present  commanded  their  little  escort. 
"  Good  Guarine,"  she  said,  "  I  had  talk  with  one  of  these 
sentinels  last  night  from  my  window,  and  he  did  me  some 
service,  for  which  I  promised  him  recompense.  Will  you 
inquire  fT  the  man,  that  I  may  pay  him  his  guerdon  ?  " 

"Truly,  I  will  owe  him  a  guerdon  also,  pretty  maiden," 
answered  the  squire  ;  "  for  if  a  lance  of  them  approached 
near  enough  the  house  to  hold  speech  from  the  windows,  he 
transgressed  the  precise  orders  of  his  watch." 

"  Tush  !  you  must  forgive  that  for  my  sake,"  said  Rose. 
"  I  warrant,  had  I  called  on  yourself,  stout  Guarine,  I 
should  have  had  influence  to  bring  you  under  my  chamber 
window." 

Guarine  laughed,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  True  it 
is,"  he  said,  "when  women  are  in  place,  discipline  is  in 
danger." 

He  then  went  to  make  the  necessary  inquiries  among  his 
band,  and  returned  with  the  assurance  that  his  soldiers, 
generally  and  severally,  denied  having  approached  the  man- 
sion of  the  Lady  Ermengarde  on  the  preceding  night. 

"  Thou  seest.  Rose,"  said  Eveline,  with  a  significant  look 
to  her  attendant. 

"  The  poor  rogues  are  afraid  of  Guarine's  severity,"  said 
Rose,  "and  dare  not  tell  the  truth  ;  I  shall  have  some  one 
in  private  claiming  the  reward  of  me." 

"I  would  I  had  the  privilege  myself,  damsel,"  said 
Guarine  ;  "  but  for  these  fellows,  they  are  not  so  timorous 
as  you  suppose  them,  being  even  too  ready  to  avouch  their 
foguery  when  it  hath  less  excuse.  Besides,  I  promised  them 
impunity.     Have  you  anything  farther  to  order  ?  " 


THE  BETROTHED  18& 

"  Nothing,  good  Guarine,"  said  Eveline  ;  "  only  this  small 
donative  to  procure  wine  for  tiiy  soldiers,  that  they  may 
spend  the  next  night  more  merrily  than  the  last.  And  now 
he  is  gone.  Maiden,  thou  must,  I  think,  be  now  well  aware 
that  what  thou  sawest  was  no  earthly  being  ?" 

"  I  must  believe  mine  own  ears  and  eyes,  madam/' replied 
Rose. 

"  Do — but  allow  me  the  same  privilege,''  answered  Eve- 
line. "  Believe  me  that  my  deliverer,  for  so  I  must  call 
him,  bore  the  features  of  one  who  neither  was,  nor  could 
be,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Baldringham.  Tell  me  but  one 
thing.  What  dost  thou  think  of  this  extraordinary  pre- 
diction— 

'  Widow'd  wife  and  wedded  maid, 
Betrothed,  betrayer,  and  betrayed'? 

Thou  wilt  say  it  is  an  idle  invention  of  my  brain  ;  but  think 
it  for  a  moment  the  speech  of  a  true  diviner,  and  what 
wouldst  thou  say  of  it  ?  " 

"That  you  may  be  betrayed,  my  dearest  lady,  but  never 
can  be  a  betrayer,"  answered  Rose,  with  animation. 

Eveline  reached  her  hand  out  to  her  friend,  and  as  she 
pressed  affectionately  that  which  Rose  gave  in  return,  she 
whispered  to  her  with  energy,  *'  I  thank  thee  for  the  judg- 
ment, which  my  own  heart  confirms." 

A  cloud  of  dust  now  announced  the  approach  of  the 
Constable  of  Chester  and  his  retinue,  augmented  by  the 
attendance  of  his  host  Sir  William  [Amelot]  Herbert,  and 
some  of  his  neighbors  and  kinsmen  who  came  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  orphan  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  by  which 
appellation  Eveline  was  known  upon  her  passage  through 
their  territory. 

Eveline  remarked,  that  at  their  greeting  De  Lacy  looked 
with  displeased  surprise  at  the  disarrangement  of  her  dress 
and  equipage,  which  her  hasty  departure  from  Baldringham 
had  necessarily  occasioned  ;  and  she  was,  on  her  part,  struck 
with  an  expression  of  countenance  which  seemed  to  say,  "  I 
am  not  to  be  treated  as  an  ordinary  person,  who  may  be  re- 
ceived with  negligence,  and  treated  slightly  with  impunity." 
For  the  first  time,  she  thought  that,  though  always  deficient 
in  grace  and  beauty,  the  Constable's  countenance  was 
formed  to  express  the  more  angry  passions  with  force  and 
vivacity,  and  that  she  who  shared  his  rank  and  name  must 
lay  her  account  with  the  implicit  surrender  of  her  will  and 
wishes  to  those  of  an  arbitrary  lord  and  master. 


140  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

But  the  cloud  soon  passed  from  the  Constable's  brow  ; 
and  m  the  conversation  which  he  afterwards  maintained 
with  Herbert  and  the  other  knights  and  gentlemen,  who 
from  time  to  time  came  to  greet  and  accompany  them  for  a 
little  way  on  their  journey,  Eveline  had  occasion  to  admire 
his  superiority,  both  of  sense  and  expression,  and  to  remark 
the  attention  and  deference  with  which  his  words  were 
listened  to  by  men  too  high  in  rank,  and  too  proud,  readily 
to  admit  any  pre-eminence  that  was  not  founded  on  ac- 
knowledged merit.  The  regard  of  women  is  generally  much 
influenced  by  the  estimation  which  an  individual  maintains 
in  the  opinion  of  men  ;  and  Eveline,  when  she  concluded 
her  journey  in  the  Benedictine  nunnery  in  Gloucester,  could 
not  think  without  respect  upon  the  renowned  warrior  and 
celebrated  politician,  whose  acknowledged  abilities  ap- 
peared to  place  him  above  every  one  whom  she  had  seen 
approach  him.  His  wife,  Eveline  thought  (and  she  was  not 
without  ambition),  if  relinquishing  some  of  those  qualities 
in  a  husband  which  are  in  youth  most  captivating  to  the 
female  imagination,  must  be  still  generally  honored  and 
respected,  and  have  contentment,  if  not  romantic  felicity, 
within  her  reach. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Lady  Eveline  remained  nearly  four  months  with  her 
aunt,  the  abbess  of  the  Benedictine  nunnery,  under  whose 
auspices  the  Constable  of  Chester  saw  his  suit  advance  and 
prosper  as  it  would  probably  have  done  under  that  of  the  de- 
ceased Raymond  Berenger,  her  brother.  It  is  probable, 
however,  that,  but  for  the  supposed  vision  of  the  Virgin,  and 
the  vow  of  gratitude  which  that  supposed  vision  had  called 
forth,  the  natural  dislike  of  so  young  a  person  to  a  match  so 
unequal  in  years  might  have  effectually  opposed  his  success. 
Indeed,  Eveline,  while  honoring  the  Constable's  virtues, 
doing  justice  to  his  high  character,  and  admiring  his  talents, 
could  never  altogether  divest  herself  of  a  secret  fear  of  him, 
which,  while  it  prevented  her  from  expressing  any  direct  dis- 
approbation of  his  addresses,  caused  her  sometimes  to  shud- 
der, she  scarce  knew  why,  at  the  idea  of  their  becoming 
successful. 

The  ominous  words,  "  betraying  and  betrayed,"  would 
then  occur  to  her  memory  ;  and  when  her  aunt  (the  period 
of  the  deepest  mourning' being  elapsed)  had  fixed  a  day  for 
her  betrothal,  she  looked  forward  to  it  with  a  feeling  of 
terror,  for  which  she  was  unable  to  account  to  herself,  and 
which,  as  well  as  the  particulars  of  her  dream,  she  concealed 
even  from  Father  Aldrovand  in  the  hours  of  confession.  It 
was  not  aversion  to  the  Constable  ;  it  was  far  less  preference 
to  any  other  suitor ;  it  was  one  of  those  instinctive  move- 
ments and  emotions  by  which  nature  seems  to  warn  us  of 
approaching  danger,  though  furnishing  no  information  re- 
specting its  nature,  and  suggesting  no  means  of  escaping 
from  it. 

So  strong  were  these  intervals  of  apprehension,  that,  if 
they  had  been  seconded  by  the  remonstrances  of  Rose  Flam- 
mock,  as  formerly,  they  might  perhaps  have  led  to  Eveline's 
even  yet  forming  some  resolution  unfavorable  to  the  suit  of 
the  Constable.  But,  still  more  zealous  for  her  lady's  honor 
than  even  for  her  happiness.  Rose  had  strictly  forborne  every 
effort  which  could  affect  Eveline's  purpose,  when  she  had 
once  expressed  her  approbation  of  De  Lacy's  addresses ;  and 
141 


142  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

whatever  she  thought  or  anticipated  concerning  the  pro 
posed  marriage,  she  seemed  from  that  moment  to  consider 
it  as  an  event  which  must  necessarily  take  phice. 

De  Lacy  himself,  as  he  learned  more  intimately  to  know 
tlie  merit  of  the  prize  which  he  was  desirous  of  possessing, 
looked  forward  with  different  feelings  towards  the  union 
than  those  with  which  he  had  first  proposed  the  measure  to 
Raymond  Berenger.  It  was  then  a  mere  match  of  interest 
and  convenience,  which  had  occurred  to  the  mind  of  a  proud 
and  politic  feudal  lord,  as  the  best  mode  of  consolidating 
the  power  and  perpetuating  the  line  of  his  family.  Nor  did 
even  the  splendor  of  Eveline's  beauty  make  that  impression 
upon  De  Lacy  which  it  was  calculated  to  do  on  the  fiery  and 
impassioned  chivalry  of  the  age.  He  was  past  that  period 
of  life  when  the  wise  are  captivated  by  outward  form,  and 
might  have  said  with  truth,  as  well  as  with  discretion,  that 
he  could  have  wished  his  beautiful  bride  several  years  older, 
and  possessed  of  a  more  moderate  portion  of  personal  charms, 
in  order  to  have  rendered  the  match  more  fitted  for  his  own 
age  and  disposition.  This  stoicism,  however,  vanished; 
when,  on  repeated  interviews  with  his  destined  bride,  he 
found  that  she  was  indeed  inexperienced  in  life,  but  desirous 
to  be  guided  by  superior  wisdom  ;  and  that,  although  gifted 
with  high  spirit,  and  a  disposition  which  began  to  recover 
its  natural  elastic  gaiety,  she  was  gentle,  docile,  and,  above 
all,  endowed  with  a  firmness  of  principle  which  seemed  to  give 
assurance  that  she  would  tread  uprightly,  and  without  spot, 
the  slippery  paths  in  which  youth,  rank,  and  beauty  are 
doomed  to  move. 

As  feelings  of  a  warmer  and  more  impassioned  kind 
'•Qwards  Eveline  began  to  glow  in  De  Lacy's  bosom,  his  en- 
gagements as  a  crusader  became  more  and  more  burdensome 
to  him.  The  benedictine  abbess,  the  natural  guardian  of 
Eveline's  happiness,  added  to  these  feelings  by  lier  reason- 
ing and  remonstrances.  Although  a  nun  and  a  devotee,  she 
held  in  reverence  the  holy  state  of  matrimony,  and  compre- 
hended so  much  of  it  as  to  be  aware  that  its  important 
purposes  could  not  be  accomplished  while  the  whole  conti- 
nent of  Europe  was  interposed  betwixt  the  married  pair  ;  for 
as  to  a  hint  from  the  Constable,  that  his  young  spouse  might 
accompany  him  into  the  dangerous  and  dissolute  precincts 
of  the  Crusader's  camp,  the  good  lady  crossed  herself  with 
horror  at  the  proposal,  and  never  permitted  it  to  be  a  second 
time  mentioned  in  her  presence. 

It  was  not,  however,  uncommon  for  kings,  princes,  and 


THE  BETROTHED  148 

other  persons  of  high  consequence,  wlio  had  taken  upon  them 
the  vow  to  rescue  Jerusalem,  to  obtain  delays,  and  even  a 
total  remission  of  their  engagement,  by  proper  application 
to  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  Constable  was  sure  to  possess 
the  full  advantage  of  his  sovereign's  interest  and  counte- 
nance, in  seeking  permission  to  remain  in  England,  for  he 
was  the  noble  to  whose  valor  and  policy  Henry  had  chiefly 
entrusted  the  defense  of  the  disorderly  Welsh  marches  ;  and 
it  was  by  no  means  with  his  good-will  that  so  useful  a  sub- 
ject had  ever  assumed  the  cross. 

It  was  settled,  therefore,  in  private  betwixt  the  abbess  and 
the  Constable,  that  the  latter  should  solicit  at  Rome,  and 
with  the  Pope's  legate  in  England,  a  remission  of  his  vow  for 
at  least  two  years — a  favor  which  it  was  thought  could  scarce 
be  refused  to  one  of  his  wealth  and  influence,  backed  as  it 
was  with  the  most  liberal  ofi'ers  of  assistance  towards  the  re- 
demption of  the  Holy  Land.  His  offers  were  indeed  munifi- 
cent ;  for  he  proposed,  if  his  own  personal  attendance  were 
dispensed  with,  to  send  an  hundred  lances  at  his  own  cost, 
each  lance  accompanied  by  two  squires,  three  archers,  and  a 
varlet  or  horse-boy,  being  double  the  retinue  by  which  his 
own  person  was  to  have  been  accompanied.  He  offered  be- 
sides to  deposit  the  sum  of  two  thousand  bezants  to  the 
general  expense  of  the  expedition,  to  surrender  to  the  use  of 
the  Christian  armament  those  equipped  vessels  which  he  had 
provided,  and  which  even  now  awaited  the  embarkation  of 
himself  and  his  followers. 

Yet,  while  making  these  magnificent  proffers,  the  Con- 
stable could  not  help  feeling  they  Avouldbe  inadequate  to  the 
expectations  of  the  rigid  prelate  Baldwin,  who,  as  he  had 
himself  preached  the  crusade,  and  brought  the  Constable 
and  many  others  into  that  holy  engagement,  must  needs  see 
with  displeasure  the  work  of  his  eloquence  endangered,  by 
the  retreat  of  so  important  an  associate  from  his  favorite 
enterprise.  To  soften,  therefore,  his  disappointment  as 
much  as  possible,  the  Constable  offered  to  the  Archbishop, 
that,  in  the  event  of  his  obtaining  license  to  remain  in  Britain, 
his  forces  should  be  led  by  his  nephew,  Damian  Lacy,  already 
renowned  for  his  early  feats  of  chivalry,  the  present  hope  of 
his  house,  and,  failing  heirs  of  his  own  body,  its  future  head 
and  support. 

The  Constable  took  the  most  prudent  method  of  communi- 
cating this  proposal  to  the  Archbishop  Baldwin,  through  a 
mutual  friend,  on  whose  good  offices  he  could  depend,  and 
whose  interest  with  the  prelate  was  regarded  as  great.     But, 


144  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

notwithstanding  the  splendor  of  the  proposal,  the  prelate 
heard  it  with  sullen  and  obstinate  silence,  and  referred  for 
answer  to  a  personal  conference  with  the  Constable  at  an 
appointed  day,  when  concerns  of  the  church  would  call  the 
Archbishop  to  the  cit.v  of  Gloucester.  The  report  of  the 
mediator  was  such  as  induced  the  Constable  to  expect  a  severe 
struggle  with  the  proud  and  powerful  churchman  ;  but,  him- 
self proud  and  powerful,  and  backed  by  the  favor  of  his 
sovereign,  he  did  not  expect  to  be  foiled  in  the  contest. 

The  necessity  that  this  point  should  be  previously  adjusted, 
as  well  as  the  recent  loss  of  Eveline's  father,  gave  an  air 
of  privacy  to  De  Lacy's  courtship,  and  prevented  its  being 
signalized  by  tournaments  and  feats  of  military  skill,  in 
which  he  would  have  been  otherwise  desirous  to  display  his 
address  in  the  eyes  of  his  mistress.  The  rules  of  the  convent 
prevented  his  giving  entertainments  of  dancing,  music,  or 
other  more  pacific  revels  ;  and  although  the  Constable  dis- 
played his  affection  by  the  most  splendid  gifts  to  his  future 
bride  and  her  attendants,  the  whole  affair,  in  the  opinion  of 
the  experieuced  Dame  Gillian,  proceeded  more  with  the 
solemnity  of  a  funeral  than  the  light  pace  of  an  approaching 
bridal. 

The  bride  herself  felt  something  of  this,  and  thought  occa- 
sionally it  might  have  been  lightened  by  the  visits  of  young 
Damian,  in  whose  age,  so  nearly  corresponding  to  her  own, 
she  might  have  expected  some  relief  from  the  formal  court- 
ship of  his  graver  uncle.  But  he  came  not,  and  from  what 
the  Constable  said  concerning  him,  she  was  led  to  imagine 
that  the  relations  had,  for  a  time  at  least,  exchanged  occu- 
pations and  character.  The  elder  De  Lacy  continued,  indeed, 
in  nominal  observance  of  his  vow,  to  dwell  in  a  pavilion  by 
the  gates  of  Gloucester  ;  but  he  seldom  donned  his  armor, 
substituted  costly  damask  and  silk  for  his  war-worn  shamoy 
doublet,  and  affected  at  his  advanced  time  of  life  more  gaiety 
of  attire  than  his  contemporaries  remembered  as  distinguish- 
ing his  early  youth.  His  nephew,  on  the  contrary,  resided 
almost  constantly  on  the  marches  of  Wales,  occupied  in  set- 
tling by  prudence,  or  subduing  by  main  force,  the  various 
disturbances  by  which  these  provinces  were  continually 
agitated  ;  and  Eveline  learned  with  surprise,  that  it  was 
with  difficulty  his  uncle  had  prevailed  on  him  to  be  present 
at  the  ceremony  of  their  being  betrothed  to  each  other,  or, 
as  the  Normans  entitled  the  ceremony,  their  finnQaUhs. 
This  engagement,  which  preceded  the  actual  marriage  for  a 
space  more  or  less,  according  to  circumstances,  was  usually 


THE  BETROTHED  148 

celebrated  with  a  solemnity  corresponding  to  the  rank  of  the 

contracting  parties. 

The  Constable  added,  with  expressions  of  regret,  that 
Damian  gave  himself  too  little  rest,  considering  his  early 
youth,  slept  too  little,  and  indulged  in  too  restless  a  disposi- 
tion ;  that  his  health  was  suffering,  and  that  a  learned  Jew- 
ish leech,whose  opinion  had  been  taken,  had  given  his  advice 
that  the  warmth  of  a  more  genial  climate  was  necessary  to 
restore  his  constitution  to  its  general  and  natural  vigor. 

Eveline  heard  this  with  much  regret,  for  she  remembered 
Damian  as  the  angel  of  good  tidings,  who  first  brought  her 
news  of  deliverance  from  the  forces  of  the  Welsh  ;  and  the 
occasions  on  which  they  had  met,  though  mournful,  brought 
a  sort  of  pleasure  in  recollection,  so  gentle  had  been  the 
youth's  deportment,  and  so  consoling  his  expressions  of  sym- 
pathy. She  wished  she  could  see  him,  that  she  might  her- 
self judge  of  the  nature  of  his  illness  ;  for,  like  other  damsels 
of  that  age,  she  was  not  entirely  ignorant  of  the  art  of  healing, 
and  had  been  taught  by  Father  Aldrovand,  himself  no  mean 
physician,  how  to  extract  healing  essences  from  plants  and 
herbs  gathered  under  planetary  hours.  She  thought  it  pos- 
sible that  her  talents  in  this  art,  slight  as  they  were,  might 
perhaps  be  of  service  to  one  already  her  friend  and  liberator, 
and  soon  about  to  become  her  very  near  relation. 

It  was  therefore  with  a  sensation  of  pleasure,  mingled  with 
some  confusion  (at  the  idea,  doubtless,  of  assuming  the  part 
of  medical  adviser  to  so  young  a  patient),  that  one  evening, 
while  the  convent  was  assembled  about  some  business  of  their 
chapter,  she  heard  Gillian  announce  that  the  kinsman  of  the 
Lord  Constable  desired  to  speak  with  her.  She  snatched  up 
the  veil  which  she  wore  in  compliance  with  the  customs  of 
the  house,  and  hastily  descended  to  the  parlor,  commanding 
the  attendance  of  Gillian,  who,  nevertheless,  did  not  think 
proper  to  obey  the  signal. 

When  she  entered  the  apartment,  a  man  whom  she  had 
never  seen  before  advanced,  kneeled  on  one  knee,  and  tak- 
ing up  the  hem  of  her  veil,  saluted  it  with  an  air  of  the  most 
profound  respect.  She  stepped  back,  surprised  and  alarmed, 
although  there  was  nothing  in  the  appearance  of  the  stranger 
to  justify  her  apprehension.  He  seemed  to  be  about  thirty 
years  of  age,  tall  of  stature,  and  bearnig  a  noble  though 
wasted  form,  and  a  countenance  on  which  disease,  or  per- 
haps youthful  indulgence,  liad  anticipated  the  traces  of  age. 
His  demeanor  seemed  courteous  and  respectful,  even  in  a 
degree  which  approached  to  excess.     He  observed  Eveline*s 


146  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

surprise,  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  pride,  mingled  with  emotion, 
^'  I  fear  that  I  have  been  mistaken,  and  that  my  visit  is  re- 
garded as  an  unwelcome  instrusion." 

"  Arise,  sir,"  answered  Eveline,  "  and  let  me  know  your 
name  and  business.  I  was  summoned  to  a  kinsman  of  the 
Constable  of  Chester." 

"  And  you  expected  the  stripling  Daraian,"  answered  the 
stranger.  "  But  the  match  with  which  England  rings  will 
connect  you  with  others  of  tlie  house  besides  that  young 
person  ;  and  amongst  these  with  the  luckless  Randal  de  Lacy. 
Perhaps,"  continued  he,  "the  fair  Eveline  Berenger  may 
not  even  have  heard  his  name  breathed  by  his  more  fortunate 
kinsman — more  fortunate  in  every  respect,  but  most  fortunate 
in  his  present  prospects." 

This  compliment  was  accompanied  by  a  deep  reverence, 
and  Eveline  stood  much  embarrassed  how  to  reply  to  his 
civilities  ;  for  although  she  now  well  remembered  to  have 
heard  this  Randal  slightly  mentioned  by  the  Constable  when 
speaking  of  his  family,  it  was  in  terms  which  implied  that 
there  was  no  good  understanding  betwixt  them.  She  there- 
fore only  returned  his  courtesy  by  general  thanks  for  the 
honor  of  his  visit,  trusting  he  would  then  retire ;  but  such 
was  not  his  purpose. 

"  I  comprehend,"  he  said,  ''from  the  coldness  with  which 
the  Lady  Eveline  Berenger  receives  me,  that  what  she  has 
heard  of  me  from  my  kinsman — if  indeed  he  thought  me 
worthy  of  being  mentioned  to  her  at  all — has  been,  to  say 
the  least,  unfavorable.  And  yet  my  name  once  stood  as  high 
in  fields  and  courts  as  that  of  the  Constable  ;  nor  is  it  aught 
more  disgraceful  than  what  is  indeed  often  esteemed  the 
v/orst  of  disgraces — poverty,  which  prevents  my  still  aspir- 
ing to  places  of  honor  and  fame.  If  my  youthful  follies 
have  been  numerous,  I  have  paid  for  them  by  the  loss  of  my 
fortune  and  the  degradation  of  my  condition  ;  and  therein 
my  happy  kinsman  might,  if  he  pleased,  do  me  some  aid. 
I  mean  not  with  his  purse  or  estate  ;  for,  poor  as  I  am,  I 
would  not  live  on  alms  extorted  from  the  reluctant  hand  of 
an  estranged  friend  ;  but  his  countenance  would  put  him  to 
no  cost,  and,  in  so  far,  I  might  expect  some  favor." 

"  In  that  my  Lord  Constable,"  said  Eveline,  "  must  Judge 
for  himself.  I  have — as  yet,  at  least — no  right  to  interfere 
in  his  family  affairs  ;  and  if  I  should  ever  have  such  right, 
it  will  well  become  me  to  be  cautious  how  I  use  it." 

"It  is  prudently  answered,"  replied  Randal  ;  "  but  what 
I  ask  of  you  is  merely  that  you,  in  your  gentleness,  would 


TEE  BETROTHED  W 

please  to  convey  to  my  cousin  a  suit,  which  I  find  it  hard  to 
bring  my  ruder  tongue  to  utter  with  sufficient  submission. 
The  usurers,  whose  claims  have  eaten  like  a  canker  into  my 
means,  now  menace  me  with  a  dungeon — a  threat  which 
they  dared  not  mutter,  far  less  attempt  to  execute,  were  it 
not  that  they  see  me  an  outcast,  unprotected  by  the  natural 
head  of  my  family,  and  regard  me  rather  as  they  would  some 
unfriended  vagrant  than  as  a  descendant  of  the  powerful 
house  of  Lacy." 

''It  is  a  sad  necessity,"  replied  Eveline;  "but  I  see  not 
how  I  can  help  you  in  such  extremity." 

'•  Easily,"  replied  Randal  de  Lacy.  "  The  day  of  your 
betrothal  is  fixed,  as  I  hear  reported  ;  and  it  is  your  right 
to  select  what  witnesses  you  please  to  the  solemnity,  which 
may  the  saints  bless  !  To  every  one  but  myself,  presence  or 
absence  on  that  occasion  is  a  matter  of  mere  ceremony  ;  to 
me  it  is  almost  life  or  death.  So  am  I  situated,  that  the 
marked  instance  of  slight  or  contempt  implied  by  my  exclu- 
sion from  this  meeting  of  our  family  will  be  held  for  the 
signal  of  my  final  expulsion  from  the  house  of  the  De  Lacys, 
and  for  a  thousand  bloodhounds  to  assail  me  without  mercy 
or  forbearance,  whom,  cowards  as  they  are,  even  the  slightest 
show  of  countenance  from  my  powerful  kinsman  would 
compel  to  stand  at  bay.  But  why  should  I  occupy  your 
time  in  talking  thus  ?  Farewell,  madam — be  happy  ;  and 
do  not  think  of  me  the  more  harshly,  that  for  a  few  minutes 
I  have  broken  the  tenor  of  your  happy  thoughts  by  forcing 
my  misfortunes  on  your  notice." 

"  Stay,  sir,"  said  Eveline,  affected  by  the  tone  and  man- 
ner of  the  noble  suppliant  ;  ''you  shall  not  have  it  to  say, 
that  you  have  told  your  distress  to  Eveline  Berenger  without 
receiving  such  aid  as  is  in  her  power  to  give.  I  will  mention 
your  request  to  the  Constable  of  Chester." 

"  You  must  do  more,  if  you  really  mean  to  assist  me," 
said  Randal  de  Lacy,  "yon  must  make  that  request  your 
own.  You  do  not  know,"  said  he,  continuing  to  bend  on 
her  a  fixed  and  expressive  look,  "  how  hard  it  is  to  change 
the  fixed  purpose  of  a  De  Lacy  ;  a  twelvemonth  hence  you 
will  probably  be  better  acquainted  with  the  firm  texture  of 
our  resolutions.  But,  at  present,  what  can  withstand  your 
wish  should  you  deign  to  express  it  ?  " 

"  Your  suit,  sir,  shall  not  be  lost  for  want  of  my  advanc- 
ing it  with  my  good  word  and  good  wishes,"  replied 
Eveline  ;  "  but  you  must  be  well  aware  that  its  success  or 
failure  must  rest  with  the  Constable  himself." 


148  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

Eandal  de  Lacy  took  his  leave  with  tlie  same  air  of  deep 
reverence  which  had  marked  his  entrance  ;  only  that,  as  he 
then  saluted  the  skirt  of  Eveline's  robe,  he  now  rendered  the 
same  liomage  by  touching  her  liand  with  his  lip.  She  saw 
him  depart  with  a  mixture  of  emotions,  in  which  compassion 
was  predominant  ;  although  in  his  complaints  of  the  Con- 
stable's unkindness  to  him  there  was  something  offensive, 
and  his  avowal  of  follies  and  excess  seemed  uttered  rather 
in  the  spirit  of  wounded  pride  than  in  that  of  contrition. 

AYhen  Eveline  next  saw  the  Constable,  she  told  him  of  the 
visit  of  Eandal,  and  of  his  request ;  and  strictly  observing 
his  countenance  while  she  spoke,  she  saw  that,  at  the  first 
mention  of  his  kinsman's  name,  a  gleam  of  anger  shot  along 
his  features.  He  soon  subdued  it,  however,  and,  fixing  his 
eyes  on  the  ground,  listened  to  Eveline's  detailed  account  of 
the  visit,  and  her  request  "  that  Eandal  might  be  one  of  the 
invited  witnesses  to  their  fiauQailles." 

The  Constable  paused  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  were  consid- 
ering how  to  elude  the  solicitation.  At  length  he  replied, 
"  You  do  not  know  for  whom  you  ask  this,  or  you  would 
perhaps  liave  forborne  your  request  ;  neither  are  you  apprised 
of  its  full  import,  though  my  crafty  cousin  well  knows  that, 
when  I  do  him  this  grace  which  he  asks,  I  bind  myself,  as  it 
were,  in  the  eye  of  the  world  once  more — and  it  will  be  for 
the  third  time — to  interfere  in  his  affairs,  and  place  them  on 
such  a  footing  as  may  afford  him  the  means  of  re-establish- 
ing his  fallen  consequence,  and  repairing  his  numerous 
errors." 

"And  wherefore  not,  my  lord?"  said  the  generous 
Eveline.  "  If  he  has  been  ruined  only  through  follies,  he 
is  now  of  an  age  when  these  are  no  longer  tempting  snares ; 
and  if  his  heart  and  hand  be  good,  he  may  yet  be  an  honor 
to  the  house  of  De  Lacy." 

The  Constable  shook  his  head.  "  He  hath  indeed,"  he 
said,  "  a  heart  and  hand  fit  for  service,  God  knoweth, 
whether  in  good  or  evil.  But  never  shall  it  be  said  that 
you,  my  fair  Eveline,  made  request  of  Hugo  de  Lacy  which 
he  was  not  to  his  uttermost  willing  to  comply  with.  Eandal 
shall  attend  at  our  fimiQailles.  There  is  indeed  the  more 
cause  for  his  attendance,  as  I  somewhat  fear  we  may  lack 
that  of  our  valued  nephew  Damian,  whose  malady  rather 
increases  than  declines,  and,  as  I  hear,  with  strange  symptoms 
of  unwonted  disturbance  of  mind  and  starts  of  temper,  to 
which  the  youth  hath  not  hitherto  been  subject." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Ring  out  the  merry  bells,  the  bride  approaches. 
The  blush  upon  her  cheek  has  shamed  the  morning, 
For  that  is  dawning  palely.     Grant,  good  saints, 
These  clouds  betoken  naught  of  evil  omen  1 

Old  Play. 

The  day  of  the  fian^ailles,  or  espousals,  was  now  approach- 
ing ;  and  it  seems  that  neither  the  profession  of  the  abbess, 
nor  her  practise  at  least,  was  so  rigid  as  to  prevent  her 
selecting  the  great  parlor  of  the  convent  for  that  holy  rite, 
although  necessarily  introducing  many  male  guests  within 
those  vestal  j)recincts,  and  notwithstanding  that  the  rite 
itself  was  the  preliminary  to  a  state  which  the  inmates  of 
the  cloister  had  renounced  forever.  The  abbess's  Norman 
pride  of  birth,  and  the  real  interest  which  she  took  in  her 
niece's  advancement,  overcame  all  scruples  ;  and  the  vener- 
able mother  might  be  seen  in  unwonted  bustle,  now  giving 
orders  to  the  gardener  for  decking  the  apartment  with 
flowers,  now  to  her  cellaress,  her  precentrix^  and  the  lay- 
sisters  of  the  kitchen,  for  preparing  a  splendid  banquet, 
mingling  her  commands  on  these  worldly  subjects  with  an 
occasional  ejaculation  on  their  vanity  and  worthlessness,  and 
every  now  and  then  converting  the  busy  and  anxious  looks 
which  she  threw  upon  her  preparations  into  a  solemn  turn- 
ing upward  of  eyes  and  folding  of  hands,  as  one  who  sighed 
over  the  mere  earthly  pomp  which  she  took  such  trouble  in 
superintending.  At  another  time  the  good  lady  might  have 
been  seen  in  close  consultation  with  Father  Aldrovand,  upon 
the  ceremonial,  civil  and  religious,  which  was  to  accompany 
a  solemnity  of  such  consequence  to  her  family. 

Meanwhile,  the  reins  of  discipline,  although  relaxed  for  a 
season,  were  not  entirely  thrown  loose.  The  outer  court  of 
the  convent  was  indeed  for  the  time  opened  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  male  sex  ;  but  the  younger  sisters  and  novices  of 
the  house,  being  carefully  secluded  in  the  more  inner  apart- 
ments of  the  extensive  building,  under  the  immediate  eye  of 
a  grim  old  nun,  or,  as  the  conventual  rule  designed  her,  an 
ancient,  sad,  and  virtuous  person,  termed  Mistress  of  the 
Novices,  were  not  permitted  to  pollute  their  eyes  by  looking 
149 


150  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

on  waving  plumes  and  rustling  mantles.  A  few  sisters, 
indeed,  of  the  abbess's  own  standing  were  left  at  liberty, 
being  such  goods  as  it  was  thought  could  not,  in  shopman's 
phrase,  take  harm  from  the  air,  and  which  are  therefore  left 
lying  loose  on  the  counter.  These  antiquated  dames  went 
mumping  about  with  much  affected  indifference,  and  a  great 
deal  of  real  curiosity,  endeavoring  indirectly  to  get  informa- 
tion concerning  names,  and  dresses,  and  decorations,  without 
daring  to  show  such  interest  in  these  vanities  as  actual 
questions  on  the  subject  might  have  implied. 

A  stout  band  of  the  Constable's  spearmen  guarded  the  gate 
of  the  nunnery,  admitting  within  the  hallowed  precinct  the 
few  only  who  were  to  be  piesent  at  the  solemnity,  with  their 
principal  attendants  ;  and  while  the  former  were  ushered 
with  all  due  ceremony  into  the  apartments  dressed  out  for 
the  occasion,  the  attendants,  although  detained  in  the  outer 
court,  were  liberally  supplied  with  refreshments  of  the  most 
substantial  kind;  and  had  the  amusement,  so  dear  to  the 
menial  classes,  of  examining  and  criticising  their  masters 
and  mistresses,  as  they  passed  into  the  interior  apartments 
prepared  for  their  reception. 

Amongst  the  domestics  who  were  thus  employed  were  old 
Raoul  the  huntsman  and  his  jolly  dame  :  he,  gay  and  glori- 
ous, in  a  new  cassock  of  green  velvet,  she,  gracious  and 
comely,  in  a  kirtle  of  yellow  silk,  fringed  with  minivair,  and 
that  at  no  mean  cost,  were  equally  busied  in  beholding  the 
gay  spectacle.  The  most  inveterate  wars  have  their  occa- 
sional terms  of  truce,  the  most  bitter  and  boisterous  weather 
its  hours  of  warmth  and  of  calmness  ;  and  so  was  it  with  the 
matrimonial  horizon  of  this  amiable  pair,  wliich,  usually 
cloudy,  had  now  for  brief  space  cleared  up.  The  splendor 
of  their  new  apparel,  the  mirth  of  the  spectacle  around  them, 
with  the  aid,  perhaps,  of  a  bowl  of  muscadine  quaffed  by 
Raoul,  and  a  cup  of  hippocras  sipped  by  his  wife,  had  ren- 
dered them  rather  more  agreeable  in  each  other's  eyes  than 
was  their  wont ;  good  cheer  being  in  such  cases,  as  oil  is  to  a 
rusty  lock,  the  means  of  making  those  valves  move  smoothly 
and  glibly  which  otherwise  work  not  together  at  all,  or  by 
shrieks  and  groans  express  their  reluctance  to  move  in  union. 
The  pair  had  stuck  themselves  into  a  kind  of  niche,  three 
or  four  steps  from  the  ground,  which  contained  a  small 
stone  bench,  whence  their  curious  eyes  could  scrutinize  with 
advantage  every  guest  who  entered  the  court. 

Thus  placed,  and  in  their  present  state  of  temporary  con- 
cord, Raoul  with  his  frosty  visage  formed  no  unapt  repre- 


THE  BETROTHED  151 

eentative  of  January,  the  bitter  father  of  the  year ;  and 
though  Gillian  was  past  the  delicate  bloom  of  youthful  May, 
yet  the  melting  fire  of  a  full  black  eye,  and  the  genial  glow 
of  a  ripe  and  crimson  cheek,  made  her  a  lively  type  of  the 
fruitful  and  jovial  August.  Dame  Gillian  used  to  make  it 
her  boast,  that  she  could  please  everybody  with  her  gossip, 
when  she  chose  it,  from  Raymond  Berenger  down  to  Robin 
the  horse-boy  ;  and  like  a  good  housewife,  who,  to  keep  her 
hand  in  use,  will  sometimes  even  condescend  to  dress  a  dish 
for  her  husband's  sole  eating,  she  now  thought  proper  to 
practice  her  powers  of  pleasing  on  old  Raoul,  fairly  conquer- 
ing, in  her  successful  sallies  of  mirth  and  satire,  not  only 
his  cynical  temperament  towards  all  human  kind,  but  his 
peculiar  and  special  disposition  to  be  testy  with  his  spouse. 
Her  jokes,  such  as  they  were,  and  the  coquetry  with  which 
they  were  enforced,  had  such  an  effect  on  this  Timon  of  the 
woods,  that  he  curled  up  his  cynical  nose,  displayed  his  few 
straggling  teeth  like  a  cur  about  to  bite,  broke  out  into  a 
barking  laugh,  which  was  more  like  the  cry  of  one  of  his  own 
hounds,  stopped  short  in  the  explosion,  as  if  he  had  suddenly 
recollected  that  it  was  out  of  character  ;  yet,  ere  he  resumed 
his  acrimonious  gravity,  shot  such  a  glance  at  Gillian  as 
made  his  nut-cracker  jaws,  pinched  eyes,  and  convolved  nose 
bear  no  small  resemblance  to  one  of  those  fantastic  faces  which 
decorate  the  upper  end  of  old  bass  viols. 

"  Is  not  this  better  than  laying  your  dog-leash  on  your 
loving  wife,  as  if  she  were  a  brach  of  the  kennel  ?"  said 
August  to  January. 

"In  troth  is  it,"  answered  January,  in  a  frost-bitten  tone; 
"  and  so  it  is  also  better  than  doing  the  brach-tricks  which 
bring  the  leash  into  exercise." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Gillian,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  thought 
her  husband's  proposition  might  bear  being  disputed  ;  but 
instantly,  changing  the  note  to  that  of  tender  complaint, 
"  Ah  !  Raoul,"  she  said,  "  do  you  not  remember  how  you 
once  beat  me  because  our  late  lord — Our  Lady  assoilzie  him! 
— took  my  crimson  breast-knot  for  a  peony  rose  ?" 

"  Ay — ay,"  said  the  huntsman  ;  "  I  remember  our  old 
master  would  make  such  mistakes — Our  Lady  assoilzie  him! 
as  you  say  :  the  best  hound  will  hunt  counter." 

"  And  how  could  you  think,  dearest  Raoul,  to  let  the  wife 
of  thy  bosom  go  so  long  without  a  new  kirtle  ?  '"  said  his 
helpmate. 

"  Why,  thou  hast  got  one  from  our  young  lady  that  might 
,  serve  a  countess,"  said  Raoul,  his   concord  jarred  by   her 


152  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

touching  tliis  chord  ;  ''  how  many  kirtles  wouldst  thou 
have  ?  " 

"  Only  two,  kind  Eaoul,  Just  that  folk  may  not  count  their 
children's  age  by  the  date  of  Dame  Gillian's  last  new  gown." 

"  Well — well,  it  is  hard  that  a  man  cannot  be  in  good- 
humor  once  and  away  without  being  made  to  pay  for  it. 
But  thou  shalt  have  a  new  kirtle  at  Michaelmas,  when  I  sell 
the  bucks'  hides  for  the  season.  The  very  antlers  should 
bring  a  good  penny  this  year." 

"  Ay — ay,"  said  Gillian  ;  "  I  ever  tell  thee,  husband,  the 
horns  would  be  worth  the  hide  in  a  fair  market." 

Raoul  turned  briskly  round  as  if  a  wasp  had  stung  him, 
and  there  is  no  guessing  what  his  reply  might  have  been  to 
this  seemingly  innocent  observation,  had  not  a  gallant  horse- 
man at  that  instant  entered  the  court,  and,  dismounting 
like  the  others,  gave  his  horse  to  the  charge  of  a  squire,  or 
equerry,  whose  attire  blazed  with  embroidery. 

"' By  St.  Hubert,  a  proper  horseman,  and  a  destrier  ior 
an  earl,"  said  Eaoul,  "  and  my  Lord  Constable's  liveries 
withal ;  yet  I  know  not  the  gallant." 

"  But  I  do,"  said  Gillian;  "it  is  Randal  de  Lacy,  the 
Constable's  kinsman,  and  as  good  a  man  as  ever  came  of  the 
name." 

"  Oh  !  by  St.  Hubert,  I  have  heard  of  him  ;  men  say  he 
is  a  reveler,  and  a  jangler,  and  a  waster  of  his  goods." 

"  Men  lie  now  and  then,"  said  Gillian,  dryly. 

''  And  women  also,"  replied  Raoul ;  "  why,  methinks  he 
winked  on  thee  just  now." 

"  That  right  eye  of  thine  saw  never  true  since  our  good 
k)rd — St.  Mary  rest  him  I — flung  a  cup  of  wine  in  thy  face 
for  pressing  over  boldly  into  his  withdrawing-room." 

"  I  marvel,"  said  Raoul,  as  if  he  heard  her  not,  "  that 
yonder  ruffler  comes  hither.  I  have  heard  that  he  is  sus- 
pected to  have  attempted  the  Constable's  life,  and  that  they 
have  not  spoken  together  for  five  years." 

"  He  comes  on  my  young  lady's  invitation,  and  that  I  know 
full  well,"  said  Dame  Gillian  ;  "and  he  is  less  like  to  do  the 
Constable  wrong  than  to  have  wrong  at  his  hand,  poor  gen- 
tleman, as  indeed  he  has  had  enough  of  that  already." 

"  And  who  told  thee  so  ?  "    said  Raoul,  bitterly. 

"  No  matter,  it  was  one  who  knew  all  about  it  very  well," 
said  the  dame,  who  began  to  fear,  that  in  displaying  her  tri- 
umph of  superior  information,  she  had  been  rather  over- 
communicative.  I 

"  It  must  have  been  the  devil,  or  Randal  himself,"  saidi 


THE  BETROTHED  153 

ftaoul,  ''for  no  other  mouth  is  hirge  enough  for  such  a  lie. 
But  harkye,  Dame  Gillian,  who  is  he  that  presses  forward 
next,  like  a  man  that  scarce  sees  how  he  goes  ?" 

"  Even  your  angel  of  grace,  my  young  Squire  Damiau," 
said  Dame  Gillian. 

''It  is  impossible  !  "  answered  Kaoul.  "Call  me  blind  if 
thou  wilt,  but  I  have  never  seen  man  so  changed  in  a  few 
weeks  ;  and  his  attire  is  flung  on  him  so  wildly  as  if  he  wore  a 
horse-clotli  round  him  instead  of  a  mantle.  What  can  ail 
the  youth  ?  He  has  made  a  dead  pause  at  the  door,  as  if  he 
saw  something  on  the  threshold  that  debarred  his  entrance. 
St.  Hubert,  but  he  looks  as  if  he  were  elf-stricken  !  " 

"  You  ever  thought  him  such  a  treasure  !"  said  Gillian  ; 
"  and  now  look  at  him  as  he  stands  by  the  side  of  a  real 
gentleman,  how  he  stares  and  trembles  as  if  he  were  dis- 
traught.'^ 

"I  will  speak  to  him,"  saidEaoul,  forgetting  his  lameness, 
and  springing  from  his  elevated  station — "I  will  speak  to 
him  ;  and,  if  he  be  unwell,  I  have  my  lancets  and  fleams  to 
bleed  man  as  well  as  brute." 

"  And  a  fit  physician  for  such  a  patient,"  muttered  Gillian 
— "  a  dog-leech  for  a  dreamy  madman,  that  neither  knows 
his  own  disease  nor  the  way  to  cure  it." 

Meanwhile  the  old  huntsman  made  his  way  towards  the 
entrance,  before  which  Damian  remained  standing,  in  appar- 
ent uncertainty  whether  he  should  enter  or  not  regardless 
of  the  crowd  around,  and  at  the  same  time  attracting  their 
attention  by  the  singularity  of  his  deportment. 

Eaoul  had  a  private  regard  for  Damian  •  for  which,  per- 
haps, it  was  a  chief  reason  that  of  late  his  wife  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  speaking  of  him  in  a  tone  more  disrespectful 
than  she  usually  applied  to  handsome  young  men.  Besides, 
he  understood  the  youth  was  a  second  Sir  Tristrem  in  sylvan 
sports  by  wood  and  river,  and  there  needed  no  more  to  fetter 
Raoul's  soul  to  him  with  bands  of  steel.  He  saw  with  great 
concern  his  conduct  attract  general  notice,  mixed  with  some 
ridicule. 

' '  He  stands,**  said  the  town  jester,  who  had  crowded  into 
the  gay  throng,  "  before  the  gate  like  Balaam's  ass  in  the 
mystery,  when  the  animal  sees  so  much  more  than  can  be 
seen  by  any  one  else." 

A  cut  from  Raoul's  'ready  leash  rewarded  the  felicity  of 
this  application,  and  sent  the  fool  howling  ofE  to  seek  a  more 
favorable  audience  for  his  pleasantry.  At  the  same  time 
Raoul  pressed  up  to  Damian,  and,  with  an  earnestness  very 


154  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

different  from  his  usual  dry  causticity  of  manner,  begged 
him  for  God's  sake  not  to  make  himself  the  general  specta- 
cle, by  standing  there  as  if  the  devil  sat  on  the  doorway,  but 
either  to  enter,  or,  what  might  be  as  becoming,  to  retire,  and 
make  himself  more  fit  in  apparel  for  attending  on  a  solem- 
nity so  nearly  concerning  his  house. 

' '  And  what  ails  my  apparel,  old  man  ? "  said  Damian, 
turning  sternly  on  the  huntsman,  as  one  who  has  been  hastily 
and  unciviley  roused  from  a  reverie. 

''  Only,  with  respect  to  your  valor,"  answered  the  hunts- 
man, "  men  do  not  usually  put  old  mantles  over  new  doub- 
lets ;  and  methinks,  with  submission,  that  of  yours  neither 
accords  with  your  dress  nor  is  fitted  for  this  noble  presence." 

"  Thou  art  a  fool  !  "  answered  Damian,  "and  as  green  in 
wit  as  gray  in  years.  Know  you  not  that  in  these  days  the 
young  and  old  consort  together — contract  together — wed  to- 
gether ?  and  should  we  take  more  care  to  make  our  apparel 
consistent  tban  our  actions  ?  " 

''  For  God's  sake,  my  lord,"  said  Kaoul,  "  forbear  these 
wild  and  dangerous  words  !  they  may  be  lieard  by  other  ears 
than  mine,  and  construed  by  worse  interpreters.  There  may 
be  here  those  who  will  pretend  to  track  miscliief  from  light 
words,  as  I  would  find  a  buck  from  his  frayings.  Your 
cheek  is  pale,  my  lord,  your  eye  is  bloodshot ;  for  Heaven's 
sake,  retire." 

''I  will  not  retire,"  said  Damian,  with  yet  more  distem- 
perature  of  manner,  "  till  I  have  seen  the  Lady  Eveline." 

"  For  the  sake  of  all  the  saints,"  ejaculated  Raoul,  ''not 
now  !  You  will  do  my  lady  incredible  injury  by  forcing 
yourself  into  her  presence  in  this  condition." 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  said  Damian,  the  remark  seeming 
to  operate  as  a  sedative  which  enabled  him  to  collect  his 
scattered  thoughts.  "  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  I  thought 
that  to  have  looked  upon  her  once  more — but  no,  you  are  in 
the  right,  old  man." 

He  turned  from  the  door  as  if  to  withdraw,  but  ere  he 
could  accomplish  liis  purpose,  he  turned  yet  more  pale  than 
before,  staggered,  and  fell  on  tlie  pavement  ere  Raoul  could 
afford  him  his  support,  useless  as  that  might  have  proved. 
Those  who  raised  him  were  surprised  to  observe  that  his 
garments  were  soiled  with  blood,  and  that  the  stains  upon 
his  cloak,  which  had  been  criticised  by  Raoul,  were  of  the 
same  complexion.  A  grave-looking  personage,  wrapped  in 
a  sad-colored  mantle,  came  forth  from  the  crowd. 

"  I  knew  how  it  would  be,"  he  said  ;  *'  I  made  venesectioD 


THE  BETROTHED  155 

bhis  morning,  and  commanded  repose  and  sleep  according  to 
the  aphorisms  of  Hippocrates  ;  but  if  young  gentlemen  will 
aeglect  the  ordinance  of  their  physician,  medicine  will 
avenge  herself.  It  is  impossible  that  my  bandage  or  liga- 
ture, knit  by  these  fingers,  should  have  started,  but  to  avenge 
the  neglect  of  the  precepts  of  art." 

"  What  means  this  prate  ?  "  said  the  voice  of  the  Consta- 
ble, before  which  all  others  were  silent.  He  had  been  sum- 
moned forth  just  as  the  rite  of  espousal  or  betrothing  was 
concluded,  on  the  confusion  occasioned  by  Damian's  siiua- 
tion,  and  now  sternly  commanded  the  physician  to  replace 
the  bandages  which  had  slijjped  from  his  nephew's  arm, 
liimself  assisting  in  the  task  of  supporting  the  patient,  with 
the  anxious  and  deeply  agitated  feelings  of  one  who  saw  a 
near  and  justly  valued  relative — as  yet  the  heir  of  his  fame 
and  family — stretched  before  him  in  a  condition  so  danger- 
ous. 

But  the  griefs  of  the  powerful  and  the  fortunate  are  often 
mingled  with  the  impatience  of  interrupted  prosperity. 
"  What  means  this  ?  "  he  demanded  sternly  of  the  leech.  "  I 
sent  you  this  morning  to  attend  my  nephew  on  the  first  tid- 
ings of  his  illness,  and  commanded  that  he  should  make  no 
attempt  to  be  present  on  this  day's  solemnity,  yet  I  find  him 
in  this  state  and  in  this  place." 

"  So  please  your  lordship,"  replied  the  leech,  with  a  con- 
scious self-importance  which  even  the  presence  of  the  Con- 
stable could  not  subdue,  "  Curatio  est  canojiica,  non  coacta  ; 
which  signifieth,  my  lord,  that  the  physician  acteth  his  cure 
by  rules  of  art  and  science,  by  advice  and  prescription,  but 
not  by  force  or  violence  upon  the  patient,  who  cannot  be  at 
all  benefited  unless  he  be  voluntarily  amenable  to  the  orders 
of  his  medicum." 

"  Tell  me  not  of  your  jargon,"  said  De  Lacy  ;  ''  if  my 
nephew  was  light-headed  enough  to  attempt  to  come  hither 
in  the  heat  of  a  delirious  distemper,  you  should  have  had 
sense  to  prevent  him,  had  it  been  by  actual  force." 

"It  may  be,"  said  Randal  de  Lacy,  joining  the  crowd, 
who,  forgetting  the  cause  which  had  brought  them  together, 
were  now  assembled  about  Damian,  "that  more  powerful 
was  the  magnet  which  drew  our  kinsman  hither  than  aught 
the  leech  could  do  to  withhold  him." 

The  Constable,  still  busied  about  his  nephew,  looked  up 
as  Randal  spoke,  and,  when  he  was  done,  asked,  with  formal 
coldness  of  manner,  "  Ha,  fair  kinsman,  of  what  magnet  do 
you  speak  ?  " 


156  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

"  Surely  of  your  nephew's  love  and  regard  to  your  lord- 
ship," answered  Randal,  "  which,  not  to  mention  his  respect 
for  the  Lady  Eveline,  must  have  compelled  him  hither,  if 
his  limbs  were  able  to  bear  him.  And  here  the  bride  comes, 
I  think,  in  charity,  to  thank  him  for  his  zeal." 

"  What  unhappy  case  is  this  ?  "  said  the  Lady  Eveline, 
pressing  forward,  much  disordered  with  the  intelligence  of 
Damian^s  danger,  which  had  been  suddenly  conveyed  to  her. 
"  Is  there  nothing  in  which  my  poor  service  may  avail  ?" 

"  Nothing,  lady,"  said  the  Constable,  rising  from  beside 
his  nephew,  and  taking  her  hand  ;  -^'your  kindness  is  here 
mistimed.  This  motley  assembly,  this  unseeming  confu- 
sion, become  not  your  presence." 

"Unless  it  could  be  helpful,  my  lord,"  said  Eveline, 
eagerly.  "  It  is  your  nephew  who  is  in  danger — my  deliv- 
erer— one  of  my  deliverers,  I  would  say." 

''  He  is  fitly  attended  by  his  chirurgeon,"  said  the  Con- 
stable, leading  back  his  reluctant  bride  into  the  coiivent  ; 
while  the  medical  attendant  triumphantly  exclaimed — 

"  Well  judgeth  my  Lord  Constable,  to  withdraw  his  noble 
lady  from  the  host  of  petticoated  empirics,  who,  like  so 
many  Amazons,  break  in  upon  and  derange  the  regular 
course  of  physical  practise,  with  their  petulant  prognostics, 
their  rash  recipes,  their  mithridate,  their  febrifuges,  their 
amulets,  and  their  charms.     Well  speaketh  the  ethnic  poet, 

Non  audet,  nisi  quae  [qui]  didicit,  dare  :  quod  medicoruin  est 
Promittunt  medici  :  tractant  fabrilia  fabri. 

As  he  repeated  these  lines  with  much  emphasis,  the  doc- 
tor permitted  his  patient's  arm  to  drop  from  his  hand,  that 
he  might  aid  the  cadence  with  a  flourish  of  his  own. 
"  There,"  said  he  to  the  spectators,  "  \&  what  none  of  you 
understand — no,  by  St.  Luke,  nor  the  Constable  himself." 

"  But  he  knows  how  to  whip  in  a  hound  that  babbles 
when  he  should  be  busy,"  said  Raoul  ;  and,  silenced  by  this 
hint,  the  chirurgeon  betook  himself  to  his  proper  duty  of 
superintending  the  removal  of  3^oung  Damian  to  an  apart- 
ment in  the  neighboriiig  street,  where  the  symptoms  of  his 
disorder  seemed  rather  to  increase  than  diminish,  and 
speedily  required  all  the  skill  and  attention  which  the  leech 
could  bestow. 

The  subscription  of  the  contract  of  marriage  had,  as 
already  noticed,  been  just  concluded,  when  the  company 
assembled  on  the  occasion  were  interrupted  by  the  news  of 
Damian's  illness.     When  the  Constable  led  his  bride  from 


THE  BETBOTHED  157 

the  courtyard  into  the  apartment  where  the  company  was 
assembled,  there  was  discomposure  and  uneasiness  on  the 
countenance  of  both  ;  and  it  was  not  a  little  increased  by 
the  bride  pulling  her  hand  hastily  from  the  hold  of  the 
bridegroom,  on  observing  that  the  latter  was  stained  with 
recent  blood,  and  had  in  truth  left  the  same  stamp  upon 
her  own.  With  a  faint  exclamation  she  showed  the  marks 
to  Rose,  saying  at  the  same  time,  "  What  bodes  this  ?  Is 
this  the  revenge  of  the  Bloody-Finger  already  commencing  ?" 
''  It  bodes  nothing,  my  dearest  lady,"  said  Rose  ;  "  it  is 
our  own  fears  that  are  prophets,  not  those  trifles  which  we 
take  for  augury.  For  God's  sake,  speak  to  my  lord  !  He 
is  surprised  at  your  agitation." 

"  Let  him  ask  me  the  cause  himself,"  said  Eveline ; 
"  fitter  it  should  be  told  at  his  bidding  than  be  offered  by 
me  unasked." 

The  Constable,  while  his  bride  stood  thus  conversing  with 
her  maiden,  had  also  observed  that,  in  his  anxiety  to  assist 
his  nephew,  he  had  transferred  part  of  his  blood  from  his 
own  hands  to  Eveline's  dress.  He  came  forward  to  apolo- 
gize for  what  at  such  a  moment  seemed  almost  ominous. 
''Fair  lady,"  said  he,  "the  blood  of  a  true  De  Lacy  can 
never  bode  aught  but  peace  and  happiness  to  you." 

Eveline  seemed  as  if  she  would  have  answered,  but  could 
not  immediately  find  words.  The  faithful  Rose,  at  the  risk 
of  incurring  the  censure  of  being  over-forward,  hastened  to 
reply  to  the  compliment.  "  Every  damsel  is  bound  to  be- 
lieve what  you  say,  my  noble  lord,"  was  her  answer,  ''  know- 
ing how  readily  that  blood  hath  ever  flowed  for  protecting 
the  distressed,  and  so  lately  for  our  own  relief." 

"  It  is  well  spoken,  little  one,"  answered  the  Constable  ; 
"  and  the  Lady  Eveline  is  happy  in  a  maiden  who  so  well 
knows  how  to  speak  when  it  is  her  own  pleasure  to  be 
silent.  Come,  lady,"  he  added,  ''let  us  hope  this  mishap 
of  my  kinsman  is  but  like  a  sacrifice  to  fortune,  which  per- 
mits not  the  brightest  hour  to  pass  without  some  intervening 
shadow.  .  Damian,  I  trust,  will  speedily  recover  ;  and  be  we 
mindful  that  the  blood-drops  which  alarm  you  have  been 
drawn  by  a  friendly  steel,  and  are  symptoms  rather  of  re- 
covery than  of  illness.  Come,  dearest  lady,  your  silence 
discourages  our  friends,  and  wakes  in  them  doubts  whether 
we  be  sincere  in  the  welcome  due  to  them.  Let  me  be  your 
sewer,"  he  said  ;  and,  taking  a  silver  ewer  and  napkin  from 
the  standing  cupboard,  which  was  loaded  with  plate,  he 
presented  them  on  his  knee  to  his  bride. 


158  WAVERLEY  IfOVELS 

Exerting  herself  to  shake  off  the  alarm  into  which  she  had 
been  thrown  by  some  snpposed  coincidence  of  the  present 
accident  with  the  apparition  of  Baldringham,  Eveline,  en- 
tering into  her  betrothed  husband's  humor,  was  about  to 
raise  him  from  the  ground,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  the 
arrival  of  a  hasty  messenger,  who,  coming  into  the  room 
without  ceremony,  informed  the  Constable  that  his  nephew 
was  so  extremely  ill,  that,  if  he  hoped  to  see  him  alive,  it 
would  be  necessary  he  should  come  to  his  lodgings  in- 
stantly. 

The  Constable  started  up,  made  a  brief  adieu  to  Eveline 
and  to  the  guests,  who,  dismayed  at  this  new  and  disastrous 
intelligence,  were  preparing  to  disperse  themselves,  when,  as 
he  advanced  towards  the  door,  he  was  met  by  a  paritor,  or 
summoner  of  the  ecclesiastical  court,  whose  official  dress  had 
procured  him  unobstructed  entrance  into  the  precincts  of 
the  abbey. 

" Deus  vobiscum,"  said  the  joaritor  ;  "I  would  know 
which  of  this  fair  company  is  the  Constable  of  Chester ! " 

"I  am  he,"  answered  the  elder  De  Lacy;  "but  if  thy 
business  be  not  the  more  hasty,  I  cannot  now  speak  with 
thee  :  I  am  bound  on  matters  of  life  and  death." 

"  I  take  all  Christian  people  to  witness  that  I  have  dis- 
charged my  duty,"  said  the  paritor,  putting  into  the  hand 
of  the  Constable  a  slip  of  parchment. 

"  How  is  this,  fellow  ?"  said  the  Constable,  in  great  in- 
dignation :  "  for  whom  or  what  does  your  master  the  Arch- 
bishop take  me,  that  he  deals  with  me  in  this  uncourteous 
fashion,  citing  me  to  compear  before  him  more  like  a  delin- 
quent than  a  friend  or  a  nobleman  ?" 

"  My  gracious  lord,"  answered  the  paritor,  haughtily,  "is 
accountable  to  no  one  but  our  Holy  Father  the  Pope  for  the 
exercise  of  the  power  which  is  entrusted  to  him  by  the 
canons  of  the  church.  Your  lordship's  answer  to  my  cita- 
tion ?  " 

"  Is  the  Archbishop  present  in  this  city  ?"  said  the  Con- 
stable, after  a  moment's  reflection.  "  I  knew  not  of  his 
purpose  to  travel  hitherj  still  less  of  his  purpose  to  exercise 
authority  Avithin  these  bounds." 

"  My  gracious  lord  the  Archbishop,"  said  the  paritor,  "  is 
but  now  arrived  in  this  city,  of  which  he  is  metropolitan  ; 
and,  besides,  by  his  apostolical  commission,  a  legate  a  latere 
hath  plenary  jurisdiction  throughout  all  England,  as  those 
may  find,  whatsoever  be  their  degree,  who  may  dare  to  dis- 
obey his  summons." 


THE  BETROTHED  159 

"  Hark  thee,  fellow/'  said  the  Constable,  regarding  the 
paritor  with  a  grim  and  angry  countenance, ''  were  it  not  for 
certain  resjiects,  which  I  promise  thee  thy  tawny  hood  hath 
little  to  do  with,  thou  wert  better  have  swallowed  thy  cita- 
tion, seal  and  all,  than  delivered  it  to  me  with  the  addition 
of  such  saucy  terms.  Go  hence,  and  tell  your  master  I  will 
see  him  within  the  space  of  an  hour,  during  which  time  I 
am  delayed  by  the  necessity  of  attending  a  sick  relation." 

The  paritor  left  the  apartment  with  more  humility  in  his 
manner  than  when  he  had  entered,  and  left  the  assembled 
guests  to  look  upon  each  other  in  silence  and  dismay. 

The  reader  cannot  fail  to  remember  how  severely  the  yoke 
of  the  Roman  supremacy  pressed  both  on  the  clergy  and 
laity  of  England  during  the  reign  of  Henry  II.  Even  the 
attempt  of  that  wise  and  courageous  monarch  to  make  a 
Btand  for  the  independence  of  his  throne  in  the  memorable 
case  of  Thomas  a  Becket  had  such  an  unhappy  issue  that, 
like  a  suppressed  rebellion,  it  was  found  to  add  new  strength 
to  the  domination  of  the  church.  Since  the  submission  of 
the  king  in  that  ill-fated  struggle,  the  voice  of  Rome  had 
double  potency  whenever  it  was  heard,  and  the  boldest  peers 
of  England  held  it  more  wise  to  submit  to  her  imperious 
dictates  than  to  provoke  a  spiritual  censure  which  had  so 
many  secular  consequences.  Hence  the  slight  and  scornful 
manner  in  which  the  Constable  was  treated  by  the  prelate 
Baldwin  struck  a  chill  of  astonishment  into  the  assembly  of 
friends  whom  he  had  collected  to  witness  his  espousals  ;  and 
as  he  glanced  his  haughty  eye  around,  he  saw  that  many  who 
would  have  stood  by  him  through  life  and  death  in  any 
other  quarrel,  had  it  even  been  with  his  sovereign,  were 
turning  pale  at  the  very  thought  of  a  collision  with  the 
church.  Embarrassed,  and  at  the  same  time  incensed  at 
their  timidity,  the  Constable  hasted  to  dismiss  them,  with 
the  general  assurance  that  all  would  be  well  ;  that  his 
nephew's  indisposition  was  a  trifling  complaint,  exaggerated 
by  a  conceited  physician  and  by  his  own  want  of  care  ;  and 
that  the  message  of  the  Archbishop,  so  unceremoniously  de- 
livered, was  but  the  consequence  of  their  mutual  and  friendly 
familiarity,  which  induced  them  sometimes,  for  the  jest's 
sake,  to  reverse  or  neglect  the  ordinary  forms  of  intercourse. 
"  If  I  wanted  to  speak  with  the  prelate  Baldwin  on  ex- 
press business  and  in  haste,  such  is  the  humility  and  indif- 
ference to  form  of  that  worthy  pillar  of  the  church,  that  I 
should  not  fear  offense,"  said  the  Constable,  *'didlsend 
the  meanest  horse-boy  in  my  troop  to  ask  an  audience  of  him." 


160  WA  VBRLEY  NO  VELS 


So  he  spoke,  but  there  was  something  in  his  countenance 
which  contradicted  his  words  ;  and  his  friends  and  relations 
retired  from  the  splendid  and  joyful  ceremony  of  his  espousals 
as  from  a  funeral  feast,  with  anxious  thoughts  and  with  down- 
cast eyes. 

Eandal  was  the  only  person  who,  having  attentively 
watched  the  whole  progress  of  tlie  affair  during  the  evening, 
ventured  to  approach  his  cousin  as  he  left  the  house,  and 
asked  him,  "  In  the  name  of  tlieir  reunited  friendship, 
whether  he  had  nothing  to  command  him  ?"  assuring  him, 
with  a  look  more  expressive  than  his  words,  that  he  would 
not  find  him  cold  in  his  service. 

"  I  have  naught  which  can  exercise  your  zeal,  fair  cousin," 
replied  the  Constable,  with  the  air  of  one  who  partly  ques- 
tioned the  speaker's  sincerity  ;  and  the  parting  reverence  with 
whicli  he  accompanied  his  words  left  Randal  no  pretext  for 
continuing  his  attendance,  as  he  seemed  to  have  designed. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Oh,  were  I  seated  high  as  my  ambition, 

I'd  place  this  naked  foot  on  necks  of  monarchs ! 

3Iystenmis  Mother. 

The  most  anxious  and  unhappy  moment  of  Engo  de 
Lacy's  life  was  unquestionably  that  in  wliieh,  by  espousing 
Eveline  with  all  civil  and  religious  solemnity,  he  seemed  to 
approach  to  what  for  some  time  he  had  considered  as  the 
prime  object  of  his  wishes.  He  was  assured  of  the  early 
possession  of  a  beautiful  and  amiable  wife,  endowed  with 
such  advantage  of  worldly  goods  as  gratified  his  ambition 
as  well  as  his  affections.  Yet,  even  in  this  fortunate  mo- 
ment, the  horizon  darkened  around  him  in  a  manner  which 
presaged  naught  but  storm  and  calamity.  At  his  nephew's 
lodging  he  learned  that  the  pulse  of  the  patient  had  risen, 
and  his  delirium  had  augmented,  and  all  around  him  spoke 
very  doubtfully  of  his  chance  of  recovery,  or  surviving  a 
crisis  which  seemed  speedily  approaching.  The  Constable 
stole  towards  the  door  of  the  apartment  which  his  feelings 
permitted  him  not  to  enter,  and  listened  to  the  raving 
which  the  fever  gave  rise  to.  Nothing  can  be  more  melan- 
choly than  to  hear  the  mind  at  work  concerning  its  ordinary 
occupations  when  the  body  is  stretched  in  pain  and  danger 
upon  the  couch  of  severe  sickness  :  the  contrast  betwixt  the 
ordinary  state  of  health,  its  joys  or  its  labors,  renders  doubly 
affecting  the  actual  helplessness  of  the  patient  before  whom 
these  visions  are  rising,  and  we  feel  a  corresponding  degree 
of  compassion  for  the  sufferer  whose  thoughts  are  wandering 
so  far  from  his  real  condition. 

The  Constable  felt  this  acutely,  as  he  heard  his  nephew 
shout  the  war-cry  of  the  family  repeatedly,  appearing,  by 
the  words  of  command  and  direction  which  he  uttered  from 
time  to  time,  to  be  actively  engaged  in  leading  his  men-at- 
arms  against  the  Welsh.  At  another  time  he  muttered 
various  terms  of  the  manege,  of  falconry,  and  of  the  chase  ; 
he  mentioned  his  uncle's  name  repeatedly  on  these  occasions, 
as  if  the  idea  of  his  kinsman  had  been  connected  alike  with 
his  martial  encounters  and.  with  his  sports  by  wood  and  river. 
161 


162  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

Other  sounds  there  were,  which  he  muttered  so  low  as  to  be 
altogether  undistinguishable. 

With  a  heart  even  still  more  softened  towards  his  kins- 
man's sufferings  from  hearing  the  points  on  which  his  mind 
wandered,  the  Constable  twice  applied  his  hand  to  the  latch 
of  the  door,  in  order  to  enter  the  bedroom,  and  twice  for- 
bore, his  eyes  running  faster  with  tears  than  he  chose  should 
be  witnessed  by  the  attendants.  At  length,  relinquishing 
his  purpose,  he  hastily  left  the  house,  mounted  his  horse, 
and,  followed  only  by  four  of  his  personal  attendants,  rode 
towards  the  palace  of  the  bishop,  where,  as  he  learned  from 
public  rumor,  the  arch-prelate  Baldwin  had  taken  up  his 
temporary  residence. 

The  train  of  riders  and  of  led  horses,  of  sumpter-mules, 
and  of  menials  and  attendants,  both  lay  and  ecclesiastical, 
Avhich  thronged  around  the  gate  of  the  episcopal  mansion, 
together  with  the  gaping  crowd  of  inhabitants  who  had 
gathered  around,  some  to  gaze  upon  the  sj^lendid  show,  some 
to  have  the  chance  of  receiving  the  benediction  of  the  holy 
prelate,  was  so  great  as  to  impede  the  Constable's  approach 
to  the  palace  door  ;  and  when  this  obstacle  was  surmounted, 
he  found  another  in  the  obstinacy  of  the  Archbishop's  at- 
tendants, who  2:)ermitted  him  not,  though  announced  by 
name  and  title,  to  cross  the  threshold  of  the  mansion  until 
they  should  receive  the  express  command  of  their  master  to 
that  effect. 

The  Constable  felt  the  full  effect  of  this  slighting  recep- 
tion. He  had  dismounted  from  his  horse  in  full  confidence 
of  being  instantly  admitted  into  the  palace  at  least,  if  not 
into  the  prelate's  presence  ;  and  as  he  now  stood  on  foot 
among  the  squires,  grooms,  and  horse-boys  of  the  spiritual 
lord,  he  was  so  much  disgusted,  that  his  first  impulse  was  to 
remount  his  horse  and  return  to  his  pavilion,  pitched  for  the 
time  before  the  city  walls,  leaving  it  to  the  bishop  to  seek 
him  there,  if  he  really  desired  an  interview.  But  the  neces- 
sity of  conciliation  almost  immediately  rushed  on  his  mind, 
and  subdued  the  first  haughty  impulse  of  his  offended  pride. 
"  If  our  wise  king,''  he  said  to  himself,  "  hath  held  the 
stirrup  of  one  prelate  of  Canterbury  when  living,  and  sub- 
mitted to  the  most  degrading  observances  before  his  shrine 
when  dead,  surely  I  need  not  be  more  scrupulous  towards 
his  priestly  successor  in  the  same  overgrown  authority." 
Another  thought,  which  he  dared  hardly  to  acknowledge, 
recommended  the  same  humble  and  submissive  course.  He 
could  not  but  feel  that,  in  endeavoring  to  evade  his  vows  as 


THE  BETROTHED  163 

a  crusader,  he  was  incurring  some  just  censure  from  the 
church  ;  and  he  was  not  unwilling  to  hope  that  his  present 
cold  and  scornful  reception  on  Baldwin's  part  might  be 
meant  as  a  part  of  the  penance  which  his  conscience  informed 
him  his  conduct  was  about  to  receive. 

After  a  short  interval,  De  Lacy  was  at  length  invited  to 
enter  the  palace  of  the  Bishop  of  Gloucester,  in  which  he 
was  to  meet  the  Primate  of  England  ;  but  there  was  more 
than  one  brief  pause,  in  hall  and  ante-room,  ere  he  at  length 
was  admitted  to  Baldwin's  presence. 

The  successor  of  the  celebrated  Becket  had  neither  the 
extensive  views  nor  the  aspiring  spirit  of  that  redoubted  per- 
sonage ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  saint  as  the  latter  had  be- 
come, it  may  be  questioned  whether,  in  his  professions  for 
the  weal  of  Christendom,  he  was  half  so  sincere  as  was  the 
present  archbishop.  Baldwin  was,  in  truth,  a  man  well 
qualified  to  defend  the  powers  which  the  church  had  gained, 
though  perhaps  of  a  character  too  sincere  and  candid  to  be 
active  in  extending  them.  The  advancement  of  the  Crusade 
was  the  chief  business  of  his  life,  his  success  the  principal 
cause  of  his  pride ;  and  if  the  sense  of  possessing  the  powers 
of  eloquent  persuasion,  and  skill  to  bend  the  minds  of  men 
to  his  purpose,  was  blended  with  his  religious  zeal,  still  the 
tenor  of  his  life,  and  afterwards  his  death  before  Ptolemais, 
showed  that  the  liberation  of  the  Holy  Sepulcher  from  the 
infidels  was  the  unfeigned  object  of  all  his  exertions.  Hugo 
de  Lacy  well  knew  this  ;  and  the  difficulty  of  managing 
such  a  temper  appeared  much  greater  to  him  on  the  eve  of 
the  interview  in  which  the  attempt  was  to  be  made  than  he 
had  suffered  himself  to  suppose  when  the  crisis  was  yet 
distant. 

The  prelate,  a  man  of  a  handsome  and  stately  form,  with 
features  rather  too  severe  to  be  pleasing,  received  the  Con- 
stable in  all  the  pomp  of  ecclesiastical  dignity.  He  was 
seated  on  a  chair  of  oak,  richly  carved  with  Gothic  orna- 
ments, and  placed  above  the  rest  of  the  floor  under  a  niche 
of  the  same  workmanship.  His  dress  was  the  rich  episcopal 
robe,  ornamented  with  costly  embroidery,  and  fringed 
around  the  neck  and  cuffs  ;  it  opened  from  the  throat  and 
in  the  middle,  and  showed  an  under  vestment  of  embroidery, 
betwixt  the  folds  of  which,  as  if  imperfectly  concealed, 
peeped  the  close  shirt  of  haircloth  which  the  prelate  con- 
stantly wore  under  all  his  pompous  attire.  His  miter  was 
placed  beside  him  on  an  oaken  table  of  the  same  workman- 
ship with  his  throne,  against  which  also  rested  his  pastoral 


164  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

staff,  representing  a  shepherd's  crook  of  the  simplest  form, 
yet  which  had  proved  more  powerful  and  fearful  than  lance 
or  scimitar,  when  wielded  by  the  hand  of  Thomas  a'  Backet. 

A  chaplain  in  a  white  surplice  kneeled  at  a  little  distance 
before  a  desk,  and  read  forth  from  an  illuminated  volume 
some  portion  of  a  theological  treatise,  in  which  Baldwin 
appeared  so  deeply  interested  that  he  did  not  seem  to  notice 
the  entrance  of  the  Constable,  who,  highly  displeased  at  this 
additional  slight,  stood  on  the  floor  of  the  hall,  undeter- 
mined whether  to  interrupt  the  reader  and  address  the  prel- 
ate at  once,  or  to  withdraw  without  saluting  him  at  all. 
Ere  he  had  formed  a  resolution,  the  chai^lain  had  arrived  at 
some  convenient  pause  in  the  lecture,  where  the  Archbishop 
stopped  him  with  "Satis  est,  mi Jili." 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  proud  secular  baron  strove  to  con- 
ceal the  embarrassment  with  which  he  approached  the 
prelate,  whose  attitude  was  jDlainly  assumed  for  the  purpose 
of  impressing  him  with  awe  and  solicitude.  He  tried,  in- 
deed, to  exhibit  a  demeanor  of  such  ease  as  might  charac- 
terize their  old  friendship,  or  at  least  of  such  indifference  as 
might  infer  the  possession  of  perfect  tranquillity  ;  but  he 
failed  in  both,  and  his  address  expressed  mortified  pride, 
mixed  with  no  ordinary  degree  of  embarrassment.  The 
genius  of  the  Catholic  Church  was  on  such  occasions  sure 
to  predominate  over  the  haughtiest  of  the  laity. 

"  I  perceive,"  said  De  Lacy,  collecting  his  thoughts,  and 
ashamed  to  find  he  had  difficulty  in  doing  so — "1  perceive 
that  an  old  friendship  is  here  dissolved.  Methinks  Hugo 
de  Lacy  might  have  expected  another  messenger  to  summon 
him  to  this  reverend  presence,  and  that  another  welcome 
should  wait  him  on  his  arrival." 

The  Archbishop  raised  himself  slowly  in  his  seat,  and 
made  a  half-inclination  towards  the  Constable,  who,  by  an 
instinctive  desire  of  conciliation,  returned  it  lower  than  he 
had  intended,  or  than  the  scanty  courtesy  merited.  The 
prelate  at  the  same  time  signing  to  his  chaplain,  the  latter 
arose  to  withdraw,  and  receiving  permission  in  the  phrase 
"  Do  veniam,"  retreated  reverently,  without  either  turning 
his  back  or  looking  upwards,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground, 
his  hands  still  folded  in  his  habit  and  crossed  over  his 
bosom. 

When  this  mute  attendant  had  disappeared,  the  prelate's 
brow  became  more  open,  yet  retained  a  dark  shade  of  grave 
displeasure,  and  he  replied  to  the  address  of  De  Lacy,  but 
still  without  rising  from  his  seat.     "It  skills  not  now,  my 


THE  BETROTHED  165 

lord,  to  say  what  the  hrave  Constable  of  Chester  has  been 
to  the  poor  priest  Bahlwiu,  or  with  what  love  and  pride  we 
beheld  him  assume  the  holy  sign  of  salvation,  and,  to  honor 
Him  by  whom  he  has  himself  been  raised  to  honor,  vow  him- 
self to  the  deliverance  of  the  Holy  Land.  If  I  still  see  that 
noble  lord  before  me  in  the  same  holy  resolution,  let  me 
know  the  joyful  trutli,  and  I  will  lay  aside  rochet  and  miter, 
and  tend  his  horse  like  a  groom,  if  it  be  necessarv  by  snch 
menial  service  to  show  the  cordial  respect  I  bear  to  him." 

"  Keverend  father,"  answered  De  Lacy,  with  hesitation, 
"  I  had  hoped  that  the  projjositions  which  were  made  to 
you  on  my  part  by  the  Dean  of  Hereford  might  have  seemed 
more  satisfactory  in  your  eyes."  Then  regaining  his  native 
confidence,  he  proceeded  with  more  assurance  in  speech  and 
manner,  for  the  cold,  inflexible  looks  of  the  Archbishop 
irritated  him,  "  If  these  proposals  can  be  amended,  my  lord, 
let  me  know  in  what  points,  and,  if  possible,  your  pleasure 
shall  be  done,  even  if  it  should  prove  somewhat  unreason- 
able. I  would  have  peace,  my  lord,  Avith  Holy  Church,  and 
am  the  last  who  would  despise  her  mandates.  This  has 
been  known  by  my  deeds  in  field  and  counsels  in  the  state  ; 
nor  can  I  think  my  services  have  merited  cold  looks  and  cold 
language  from  the  Primate  of  England." 

"  Do  you  upbraid  the  church  with  your  services,  vain 
man  ?"  said  Baldwin.  "  I  tell  thee,  Hugo  de  Lacy,  that 
what  Heaven  hath  wrought  for  the  church  by  thy  hand 
could,  had  it  been  the  divine  pleasure,  have  been  achieved 
with  as  much  ease  by  the  meanest  horse-boy  in  thy  host. 
It  is  tJiou  that  art  honored,  in  being  the  chosen  instrument 
by  which  great  things  have  been  Avrought  in  Israel,  l^ay, 
interrupt  me  not.  I  tell  thee,  proud  baron,  that,  in  the 
sight  of  Heaven,  thy  Avisdom  is  but  as  folly,  thy  courage, 
which  thou  dost  boast,  but  the  cowardice  of  a  village 
maiden,  thy  strength  weakness,  thy  spear  an  osier,  and  thy 
sword  a  bulrush." 

"All  this  I  know,  good  father,"  said  the  Constable,  "and 
have  ever  heard  it  repeated  wlien  such  poor  services  as  I 
may  have  rendered  are  gone  and  past.  Marry,  when  there 
was  need  for  my  helping  hand,  I  was  the  very  good  lord  of 
priest  and  prelate,  and  one  who  should  be  honored  and 
prayed  for  with  patrons  and  founders  who  sleep  in  the  choir 
and  under  the  high  altar.  There  was  no  thought,  I  trow, 
of  osier  or  of  bulrush,  when  I  have  been  prayed  to  couch  my 
lance  or  draw  my  Vv^eapon  ;  it  is  only  when  they  are  needless 
that  they  and  their  owner  are  undervalued.     Well,  my  rev- 


186  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL S 

erend  father,  be  it  so  ;  if.  the  church  can  cast  the  Saracens 
from  the  Holy  Land  by  grooms  and  horse-boys,  wherefore 
do  you  preach  knights  and  nobles  from  the  homes  and  the 
countries  which  they  are  born  to  protect  and  defend  ?" 

The  Archbishop  looked  steadily  on  him  as  he  replied, 
"  Not  for  the  sake  of  their  fleshly  arm  do  we  disturb  your 
knights  and  barons  in  their  prosecution  of  barbarous  festiv- 
ities and  murderous  feuds,  which  you  call  enjoying  their 
homes  and  protecting  their  domains — not  that  Omnipotence 
requires  their  arm  of  flesh  to  execute  the  great  predestined 
work  of  liberation,  but  for  the  weal  of  their  immortal  souls." 
These  last  words  he  pronounced  with  great  emphasis. 

The  Constable  paced  the  floor  impatiently,  and  muttered 
to  himself,  "  Such  is  the  airy  guerdon  for  which  hosts  on 
hosts  have  been  drawn  from  Europe  to  drench  the  sands  of 
Palestine  with  their  gore ;  such  the  vain  promises  for  which 
we  are  called  upon  to  barter  our  country,  our  lands,  and  our 
lives  ! " 

"  Is  it  Hugo  de  Lacy  speaks  thus  ?  "  said  the  Archbishop, 
arising  from  his  seat,  and  qualifying  his  tone  of  censure  with 
the  appearance  of  shame  and  of  regret.  "  Is  it  he  who 
nnder-prizes  the  renown  of  a  knight,  the  virtueof  a  Christian, 
the  advancement  of  his  earthly  honor,  the  more  incalculable 
profit  of  his  immortal  soul  ?  Is  it  he  who  desires  a  solid 
and  substantial  recompense  in  lands  or  treasure,  to  be  won 
by  warring  on  his  less  powerful  neighbors  at  home,  while 
knightly  honor  and  religious  faith,  his  vow  as  a  knight  and 
his  baptism  as  a  Christian,  call  him  to  a  more  glorious  and 
more  dangerous  strife  ?  Can  it  be  indeed  Hugo  de  Lacy, 
the  mirror  of  the  Anglo-Norman  chivalry,  whose  thoughts 
can  conceive  such  sentiments,  whose  words  can  utter 
them  ?  " 

"  Flattery  and  fair  speech,  suitably  mixed  with  taunts  and 
reproaches,  my  lord,"  answered  the  Constable,  coloring  and 
biting  his  lip,  ''  may  carry  your  point  with  others  ;  but  I 
am  of  a  temper  too  solid  to  be  either  wheedled  or  goaded 
into  measures  of  importance.  Forbear,  therefore,  this  strain 
of  affected  amazement  ;  and  believe  me,  that,  whether  he 
goes  to  the  Crusade  or  abides  at  home,  the  character  of  Hugo 
Lacy  will  remain  as  unimpeached  in  point  of  courage  as  that 
of  the  Archbishop  Baldwin  in  point  of  sanctitude." 

"  May  it  stand  much  higher,"  said  the  Archbishop, 
"  than  the  reputation  with  which  you  vouchsafe  to  compare 
it  I  But  a  l)laze  may  be  extinguished  as  well  as  a  spark  ; 
and  )   tell  the  Constable  of  Chester,  that  the  fame  wliich 


TEE  BETUOTBEB  167 

has  sat  on  his  basnet  for  so  many  years  may  flit  from  it  in 
one  moment,  never  to  be  recalled." 

"  Who  dares  to  say  so  ?"  said  the  Constable,  tremblingly 
alive  to  the  honor  for  which  he  had  encountered  so  many 
dangers. 

"A  friend,"  said  the  Prelate,  "whose  stripes  should  be 
received  as  benefits.  You  think  of  pay,  sir  Constable-,  and 
of  guerdon,  as  if  you  still  stood  in  the  market,  free  to 
chaffer  on  the  terms  of  your  service.  I  tell  you,  you  are  no 
longer  your  own  master  :  you  are,  by  the  blessed  bad^e  you 
have  voluntarily  assumed,  the  soldier  of  God  Himself  ;  nor 
can  you  fly  from  your  standard  without  such  infamy  as  even 
coistrels  or  grooms  are  unwilling  to  incur/' 

"  You  deal  all  too  hardly  with  us,  my  lord,"  said  Hugo 
de  Lacy,  stopping  short  in  his  troubled  walk.  "  You  of  the 
spirituality  make  us  laymen  the  packhorses  of  your  own 
concerns,  and  climb  to  ambitious  heights  by  the  help  of  our 
overburdened  shoulders.  But  all  hath  its  limits;  Becket 
transgressed  it,  and " 

A  gloomy  and  expressive  look  corresponded  with  the  tone 
in  which  he  spoke  this  broken  sentence  ;  and  the  j^relate,  at 
no  loss  to  comprehend  his  meaning,  replied,  in  a  firm  and 
determined  voice,  "And  he  was  murdered!  that  is  what 
you  dare  to  hint  to  me — even  to  me,  the  successor  of  that 
glorified  saint — as  a  motive  for  complying  with  your  fickle 
and  selfish  wish  to  withdraw  your  hand  from  the  plow. 
You  know  not  to  whom  you  address  such  a  threat.  True, 
Becket,  from  a  saiut  militant  on  earth,  arrived,  by  the 
bloody  path  of  martyrdom,  to  the  dignity  of  a  saint  in 
Heaven  ;  and  no  less  true  is  it  that,  to  attain  a  seat  a  thou- 
sand degrees  beneath  that  of  his  blessed  predecessor,  the  un- 
worthy Baldwin  were  willing  to  submit,  under  Our  Lady's 
protection,  to  whatever  the  worst  of  wicked  men  can  inflict 
on  his  earthly  frame." 

"  There  needs  not  this  show  of  courage,  reverend  father," 
said  De  Lacy,  recollecting  himself,  "where  there  neither  is 
nor  can  be  clanger.  I  pray  you,  let  us  debate  this  matter 
more  deliberately.  I  have  never  meant  to  break  off  my 
purpose  for  the  Holy  Land,  but  only  to  postpone  it.  Me- 
thinks  the  offers  that  I  have  made  are  fair,  and  ought  to 
obtain  for  me  what  has  been  granted  to  others  in  the  like 
case — a  slight  delay  in  the  time  of  my  departure." 

"  A  slight  delay  on  the  part  of  such  a  leader  as  you,  noble 
De  Lacy,"  answered  the  prelate,  "  were  a  death-blow  to  our 
holy  and  most  gallant  enterprise.     To  meaner  men  we  might 


168  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

have  granted  tne  privilege  of  marrying  and  giving  in  mar- 
riage, even  although  they  care  not  for  the  sorrows  of  Jacob  ; 
but  you,  my  lord,  are  a  main  prop  of  our  enterprise,  and, 
being  withdrawn,  the  whole  fabric  may  fall  to  the  ground. 
Who  in  England  will  deem  himself  obliged  to  press  forward, 
when  Hugo  de  Lacy  falls  back  ?  Think,  my  lord,  less  upon 
your  plighted  bride,  and  more  on  your  plighted  word  ;  and 
believe  not  that  a  union  can  ever  come  to  good  which  shakes 
jrour  purpose  towards  our  blessed  undertaking  for  the  honor 
of  Christendom." 

The  Constable  was  embarrassed  by  the  pertinacity  of  the 
prelate,  and  began  to  give  way  to  his  arguments,  though 
most  reluctantly,  and  only  because  the  habits  and  opinions 
of  the  time  left  him  no  means  of  combating  his  arguments 
otherwise  than  by  solicitation.  "^  I  admit,"  he  said,  "  my 
engagements  for  the  Crusade,  nor  have  I — I  repeat  it- 
further  desire  than  that  brief  interval  which  may  be  neces- 
sary to  place  my  important  affairs  in  order.  Meanwhile,  my 
vassals  led  by  my  nephew " 

"  Promise  that  which  is  within  thy  power,"  said  the 
prelate.  "  Who  knows  whether,  in  resentment  of  thy  seek- 
ing after  other  things  than  His  most  holy  cause,  thy  nephew 
may  not  be  called  hence,  even  while  we  speak  together  ?" 

"  God  forbid  !"  said  the  baron,  starting  up,  as  if  about  to 
fly  to  his  nephew's  assistance  ;  then  suddenly  pausing,  he 
turned  on  the  prelate  a  keen  and  investigating  glance.  ■'  It 
is  not  well,"  he  said,  "  that  your  reverence  should  thus  trifle 
with  the  dangers  which  threaten  my  house.  Damian  is  dear 
to  me  for  his  own  good  cpialities — dear  for  tlie  sake  of  my 
only  brother.  May  God  forgive  us  both  !  he  died  when  we 
were  in  unkindness  with  each  other.  My  lord,  your  words 
import  that  my  beloved  nephew  suffers  pain  and  incurs 
danger  on  account  of  mj^  offenses  ?  " 

The  Archbishop  perceived  he  had  at  length  touched  the 
chord  to  which  his  refractory  penitent's  heart-strings  must 
needs  vibrate.  He  rej)lied  with  circumspection,  as  well 
knowing  with  whom  he  had  to  deal — "  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
presume  to  interpret  the  councils  of  Heaven  !  but  we  read 
in  Scripture,  that  when  the  fathers  eat  sour  grapes,  the  teeth 
of  the  children  are  set  on  edge.  What  so  i-easonable  as  that 
we  should  be  punished  for  our  pride  and  contumacy,  by  a 
judgment  specially  calculated  to  abate  and  bend  that  spirit 
of  surquedry  ?  You  yourself  best  know  if  this  disease  clung 
to  thy  nephew  before  you  had  meditated  defection  from  the 
banner  of  the  Cross." 


THE  BETROTHED  169 

Hugo  de  Lacy  hastily  recollected  himself,  and  found  that 
it  was  indeed  true  that,  until  he  thought  of  his  union  with 
Eveline,  there  had  ajjpeured  no  change  in  his  nephew's 
health.  His  silence  and  confusion  did  not  escape  the  artful 
prelate.  He  took  the  hand  of  the  warrior,  as  he  stood  before 
him  overwhelmed  in  doubt,  lest  his  preference  of  the  con- 
tinuance of  his  own  house  to  the  rescue  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
cher  should  have  been  punished  by  the  disease  which  threat- 
ened his  nephew's  life.  "  Come,"  he  said,  "  noble  De  Lacy, 
the  judgment  provoked  by  a  moment's  presumption  may  be 
even  yet  averted  by  prayer  and  penitence.  The  dial  went 
back  at  the  prayer  of  the  good  KingHezekiah  ;  down — down 
upon  thy  knees,  and  doubt  not  that,  with  confession,  and 
penance,  and  absolution,  thou  mayst  yet  atone  for  thy  falling 
away  from  the  cause  of  Heaven." 

Borne  down  by  the  dictates  of  the  religion  in  which  he 
had  been  educated,  and  by  the  fears  lest  his  delay  was 
punished  by  his  nephew's  indisposition  and  danger,  the 
Constable  sunk  on  his  knees  before  the  prelate,  whom  he 
had  shortly  before  well-nigh  braved,  confessed,  as  a  sin  to  be 
deeply  repented  of,  his  purpose  of  delaying  his  departure 
for  Palestine,  and  received,  with  patience  at  least,  if  not 
with  willing  acquiescence,  the  penance  inflicted  by  the 
Archbishop,  which  consisted  in  a  prohibition  to  proceed 
farther  in  his  proposed  wedlock  with  the  Lady  Eveline, 
until  he  was  returned  from  Palestine,  where  he  was  bound 
by  his  vow  to  abide  for  the  term  of  three  years. 

"And  now,  noble  De  Lacy,"  said  the  prelate,  ''once 
more  my  best  beloved  and  most  honored  friend,  is  not  thy 
bosom  lighter  since  thou  hast  thus  nobly  acquitted  thee  of 
thy  debt  to  Heaven,  and  cleansed  thy  gallant  spirit  from 
those  selfish  and  earthly  stains  which  dimmed  its  bright- 
ness ?" 

The  Constable  sighed.  ''  My  happiest  thoughts  at  this 
moment,"  he  said,  ''  would  arise  from  knowledge  that  my 
nephew's  health  is  amended." 

"  Be  not  discomforted  on  the  score  of  the  noble  Damian, 
your  hopeful  and  valorous  kinsman,"  said  the  Archbishop, 
"  for  well  I  trust  shortly  ye  shall  hear  of  his  recovery  ;  or 
that,  if  it  shall  please  God  to  remove  him  to  a  better  world, 
the  passage  shall  be  so  easy,  and  his  arrival  in  yonder  haven 
of  bliss  so  speedy,  that  it  were  better  for  him  to  have  died 
than  to  have  lived." 

The  Constable  looked  at  him,  as  if  to  gather  from  his 
'ountenance  more  certainty  of  his  nephew's  fate  than  his 


no  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

words  seemed  to  imply  ;  and  the  prelate,  to  escape  being 
fartlier  pressed  on  a  subject  on  which  he  was  perhaps  con- 
scious he  had  adventured  too  far,  rung  a  silver  bell  which 
stood  before  him  on  the  table,  and  commanded  the  chaplain 
who  entered  at  the  summons  that  he  should  despatch  a 
careful  messenger  to  the  lodging  of  Damian  Lacy,  to  bring 
particular  accounts  of  his  health. 

"A  stranger,"  answered  the  chaplain,  ''just  come  from 
the  sick-chamber  of  the  noble  Damian  Lacy,  waits  here 
even  now  to  have  speech  of  my  Lord  Constable/' 

"Admit  him  instantly,'^  said  the  Archbishop  ;  "my  mind 
tells  me  he  brings  us  joyful  tidings.  Never  knew  I  such 
humble  penitence,  such  willing  resignation  of  natural  af- 
fections and  desires  to  the  doing  of  Heaven's  service,  but  it 
was  rewarded  with  a  guerdon  either  temporal  or  spiritual." 

As  he  spoke,  a  man  singularly  dressed  entered  the  apart- 
ment. His  garments,  of  various  colors  and  showily  disposed, 
were  not  of  the  newest  or  cleanest,  neither  were  they  alto- 
gether fitting  for  the  presence  in  which  he  now  stood. 

"How  now,  sirrah!"  said  the  prelate;  "when  was  it 
that  jugglers  and  minstrels  pressed  into  the  company  of 
such  as  we  without  permission  ?" 

"  So  please  you,"  said  the  man,  "  my  instant  business 
was  not  with  your  reverend  lordship,  but  with  my  lord  the 
Constable,  to  whom  I  will  hope  that  my  good  news  may 
atone  for  my  evil  apparel." 

"Speak,  sirrah,  does  my  kinsman  live?"  said  the 
Constable,  eagerly. 

"And  is  like  to  live,  my  lord,"  answered  the  man  :  "  a 
favorable  crisis,  so  the  leeches  call  it,  hath  taken  place  in 
his  disorder,  and  they  are  no  longer  under  any  appre- 
hensions for  his  life." 

"Now,  God  be  praised,  that  hath  granted  me  so  much 
mercy  ! "  said  the  Constable. 

"Amen  —  amen!"  replied  the  Archbishop,  solemnly 
"About  what  period  did  tliis  blessed  change  take  place  ?" 

"Scarcely  a  quarter  of  an  hour  since,"  said  the  mes- 
senger, "  a  soft  sleep  fell  on  the  sick  youth,  like  dew  upon 
a  parched  field  in  summer  ;  he  breathes  freely,  the  burning 
heat  abated,  and,  as  I  said,  the  leeches  no  longer  fear  for 
his  life." 

"  Marked  you  the  hour,  my  Lord  Constable  F"  said  the 
bishop,  with  exultation;  "even  then  you  stooped  to  those 
counsels  which  Heaven  suggested  through  the  meanest  of  its 
servants  I     But  two   Avords  avouching  penitence,  but  one 


THE  BETROTHED  171 

brief  prayer,  and  some  kind  saint  has  interceded  for  an  in- 
stant hearing  and  a  liberal  granting  of  thy  petition.  Noble 
Hugo,"  he  continued,  grasping  his  hand  in  a  species  of  en- 
thusiasm, ''surely  Heaven  designs  to  work  high  things  by 
tlie  hand  of  him  whose  faults  are  thus  readily  forgiven, 
whose  prayer  is  thus  instantly  heard.  For  this  shall  Te  Deum 
Laudamus  be  said  in  each  church  and  each  convent  of 
Gloucester  ere  the  world  be  a  day  older.*' 

The  Constable,  no  less  Joyful,  though  perhaps  less  able  to 
perceive  an  especial  providence  in  his  nephew's  recovery, 
expressed  his  gratitude  to  the  messenger  of  the  good  tidings, 
by  throwing  him  his  purse. 

"  I  thank  you,  noble  lord,"  said  the  man  ;  "but  if  I  stoop 
to  pick  up  this  taste  of  your  bounty,  it  is  only  to  restore  it 
again  to  the  donor." 

"How  now,  sir?"  said  the  Constable;  *' methinks  thy 
coat  seems  not  so  well  lined  as  needs  make  thee  spurn  at 
such  a  guerdon." 

"  He  that  designs  to  catch  larks,  my  lord,'*  replied  the 
messenger,  '*  must  not  close  his  net  upon  sparrows  :  I  have 
a  greater  boon  to  ask  of  your  lordship,  and  therefore  I 
decline  your  present  gratuity." 

'<■  "A  greater  boon,  ha  !  "  said  the  Constable.  "lam  no 
■knight-errant,  to  bind  myself  by  promise  to  grant  it  ere  I 
know  its  import ;  but  do  thou  come  to  my  pavilion  to- 
morrow, and  thou  wilt  not  find  me  unwilling  to  do  what  is 
reason." 

So  saying,  he  took  leave  of  the  prelate,  and  returned 
homeward,  failing  not  to  visit  his  nephew's  lodging  as  he 
passed,  where  he  received  the  same  pleasant  assurances 
which  had  been  communicated  by  the  messenger  of  the 
parti-colored  mantle. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

He  was  a  minstrel,  in  his  mood 

Was  wisdom  mix'd  \\ith  folly — 
A  tame  companion  to  the  good, 
But  wild  and  fierce  among  the  rude, 

And  jovial  witli  tlie  jolly. 

Archibald  Armstrong. 

The  events  of  the  preceding  day  had  been  of  a  nature  so 
interesting,  and  hitterly  so  harassing,  that  the  Constable 
felt  weary,  as  after  a  severely-contested  battle-field,  and  slept 
soundly  until  the  earliest  beams  of  dawn  saluted  him  through 
the  opening  of  the  tent.  It  was  then  that,  with  a  mingled 
feeling  of  pain  and  satisfaction,  he  began  to  review  tlie 
change  which  had  taken  place  in  his  condition  since  the 
preceding  morning.  He  had  then  risen  an  ardent  bride- 
groom, anxious  to  find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  his  fair  bride, 
and  scrupulous  about  his  dress  and  appointments,  as  if  he 
had  been  as  young  in  years  as  in  hopes  and  wishes.  This 
was  over,  and  he  had  now  before  him  the  painful  task  of 
leaving  his  betrothed  for  a  term  of  years,  even  before  wedlock 
had  united  them  indissolubly,  and  of  reflecting  that  she  was 
exposed  to  all  the  dangers  which  assail  female  constancy  in 
a  situation  thus  critical.  When  the  immediate  anxiety  for 
his  nephew  was  removed,  he  was  tempted  to  think  that  he 
had  been  something  hasty  in  listening  to  the  arguments  of 
the  Archbishop,  and  in  believing  that  Damian's  death  or 
recovery  depended  upon  his  own  accomplishing,  to  the  letter, 
and  without  delay,  his  vow  for  the  Holy  Land.  "  How 
many  princes  and  kings,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "have 
assumed  the  cross,  and  delayed  or  renounced  it,  yet  lived 
and  died  in  wealth  and  honor,  without  sustaining  such  a 
visitation  as  that  with  which  Baldwin  threatened  me  ;  and 
in  what  case  or  particular  did  such  men  deserve  more  indul- 
gence than  I  ?  But  the  die  is  now  cast,  and  it  signifies  little  \ 
to  inquire  whether  my  obedience  to  the  mandates  of  the  i 
church  has  saved  the  life  of  my  nephew,  or  whether  I  have 
not  fallen,  as  laymen  are  wont  to  fall,  whenever  there  is  an 
encounter  of  wits  betwixt  them  and  those  of  the  spirituality. 
I  would  to  God  it  may  prove  otherwise,  since,  girding  on  my 
172 


THE  BETROTHED  173 

Bword  as  Heaven's  champion,  I  might  the  better  expect 
Heaven's  protection  for  her  whom  I  must  unhappily  leave 
behind  me." 

As  these  reflections  passed  through  his  mind,  he  heard  the 
warders  at  the  entrance  of  his  tent  challenge  some  one  whose 
footsteps  were  heard  approaching  it.  The  person  stopped 
on  their  challenge,  and  presently  after  was  heard  the  sound 
of  a  rote  (a  small  species  of  lute),  the  strings  of  which  were 
managed  by  means  of  a  small  wheel.  After  a  short  prelude, 
a  manly  voice,  of  good  comjoass,  sung  verses,  which,  trans- 
lated into  modern  language,  might  run  nearly  thus  ; 

Soldier,  wake  !     The  day  is  peeping, 
Honor  ne'er  was  won  in  sleeping, 
Never  when  the  sunbeams  still 
Lay  unreflected  on  the  hill : 
'Tis  when  they  are  glinted  back 
From  ax  and  armor,  spear  and  jack. 
That  they  promise  futm'e  story, 
Many  a  page  of  deathless  glory. 
Sliields  that  are  the  foeman's  terror 
Ever  are  the  morning's  mirror. 

Arm  and  up  I    The  morning  beam 
Hath  call'd  the  rustic  to  his  team. 
Hath  call'd  the  falc'ner  to  the  lake, 
Hath  call'd  the  huntsman  to  the  brake  ; 
The  early  student  ponders  o'er 
His  dusty  tomes  of  ancient  lore. 
Soldier,  wake  !     Thy  harvest,  fame  ; 
Thy  study,  conquest ;  war,  thy  game. 
Shield,  that  would  be  foeman's  terror, 
Still  should  gleam  the  morning's  mirror. 

Poor  hire  repays  the  rustic's  pain. 

More  paltiy  still  the  sportsman's  gain, 

Vainest  of  all,  the  student's  theme 

Ends  in  some  metaphysic  dream  ; 

Yet  each  is  u}),  and  each  has  toil'd 

Since  first  the  peep  of  dawn  has  smiled 

And  each  is  eagerer  in  his  aim 

Than  he  who  barters  life  for  fame. 

Up,  up,  and  arm  thee,  son  of  terror ! 

Be  thy  bright  shield  the  morning's  mirror. 

When  the  song  was  finished,  the  constable  heard  some 
talking  without,  and  presently  Philip  Guarine  entered  the 
pavilion  to  tell  that  a  person,  come  hither  as  he  said  by  the 
Constable's  appointment,  waited  permission  to  speak  'with 
him. 


174  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"By  my  appointment?"  said  De  Lacy.  "Admit  him 
immediately.'' 

The  messenger  of  tlie  preceding  evening  entered  the  tent, 
holding  in  one  hand  his  small  cap  and  feather,  in  the  other 
the  rote  on  which  he  had  been  jnst  playing.  His  attire  was 
fantastic,  consisting  of  more  than  one  inner  dress  of  various 
colors,  all  of  the  brightest  and  richest  dyes,  and  disposed 
so  as  to  contrast  with  each  other  ;  the  upper  garment  was  a 
very  short  Norman  cloak  of  bright  green.  An  embroidered 
girdle  sustained,  in  lieu  of  offensive  w^eapons,  an  inkhorn 
with  its  appurtenances  on  the  one  side,  on  the  other  a  knife 
for  the  purposes  of  the  table.  His  hair  was  cut  in  imitation 
of  the  clerical  tonsure,  which  w^as  designed  to  intimate  that 
he  had  arrived  to  a  certain  rank  in  his  profession  ;  for  the 
joyous  science,  as  the  profession  of  minstrelsy  was  termed, 
had  its  various  ranks,  like  the  degrees  in  the  church  and  in 
chivalry.  The  features  and  manners  of  the  man  seemed  to 
be  at  variance  with  his  profession  and  habit ;  for,  as  the  lat- 
ter was  gay  and  fantastic,  the  former  had  a  cast  of  gravity, 
and  almost  of  sternness,  which,  unless  when  kindled  by  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  poetical  and  musical  exertions,  seemed 
rather  to  indicate  deep  reflection  than  the  thoughtless  viva- 
city of  observation  which  characterized  most  of  his  brethren. 
His  countenance,  though  not  handsome,  had  therefore  some- ^j 
thing  in  it  striking  and  impressive,  even  from  its  very  con- 
trast with  the  parti-colored  hues  and  fluttering  shape  of  his 
vestments  ;  and  the  Constable  felt  something  inclined  to 
patronize  him,  as  he  said,  "  Good-morrow,  friend,  and  1 
thank  thee  for  thy  morning  greeting  ;  it  was  well  sung  and 
well  meant,  for  when  we  call  forth  any  one  to  bethink  him 
how  time  j^asses,  we  do  him  the  credit  of  supposing  that  he 
can  ejnploy  to  advantage  that  flitting  treasure." 

The  man,  who  had  listened  in  silence,  seemed  to  pause 
and  make  an  effort  ere  he  rejDlied,  "  My  intentions,  at  least, 
were  good,  when  I  ventured  to  disturb  my  lord  thus  early  ; 
and  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  my  boldness  hath  not  been  evil 
received  at  his  hand.'" 

"  True,"  said  the  Constable,  ''you  had  a  boon  to  ask  of 
me.     Be  speedy,  and  say  thy  request :  my  leisure  is  short." 

"  It  is  for  permission  to  follow  you  to  the  Holy  Land,  my 
lord,"  said  the  man. 

"Thou  hast  asked  what  I  can  hardly  grant,  my  friend.'* 
answered  De  Lacy.     "  Thou  art  a  minstrel,  art  thou  not  ?" 

*'  An  unworthy  graduate  of  the  gay  science,  my  lord,"  said 
the  musician  ;  "  yet  let  me  say  for  myself,  that  I  will  not 


THE  BETROTHED  HB 

yield  to  the  king  of  minstrels,  Geoffrey  Rudel,  though  the 
King  of  England  hath  given  him  four  manors  for  one  song. 
I  would  be  willing  to  contend  with  him  in  romance,  lay,  or 
fable,  were  the  judge  to  be  King  Henry  himself." 

"  You  have  your  own  good  word,  doubtless,"  said  De 
Lacy  ;  "nevertheless,  sir  minstrel,  thou  goest  not  with  me. 
The  Crusade  has  been  already  too  much  encumbered  by 
men  of  thy  idle  profession  ;  and  if  thou  dost  add  to  the 
number,  it  shall  not  be  under  my  protection.  I  am  too  old 
to  be  charmed  by  thy  art,  charm  thou  never  so  wisely." 

*'  He  that  is  young  enough  to  seek  for  and  to  win  the  love 
of  beauty,"  said  the  minstrel,  but  in  a  submissive  tone,  as  if 
fearing  his  freedom  might  give  offense,  "  should  not  term 
himself  too  old  to  feel  tlie  charms  of  minstrelsy." 

The  Constable  smiled,  not  insensible  to  the  flattery  which 
assigned  to  him  the  character  of  a  younger  gallant.  *'  Thou 
Art  a  jester,"  he  said,  "  I  warrant  me,  in  addition  to  thy 
other  qualities  ?  " 

*'No,"  replied  the  minstrel,  "it  is  a  branch  of  our  pro- 
fession which  I  have  for  some  time  renounced  :  my  fortunes 
iiave  put  me  out  of  tune  for  jesting." 

"  Nay,  comrade,"  said  the  Constable,  "if  thou  hast  been 
Qardly  dealt  with  in  the  world,  and  canst  comply  with  the 
rules  of  a  family  so  strictly  ordered  as  mine,  it  is  possible  we 
mav  agree  together  better  than  I  thought.  What  is  thy 
name  and  country  'i  Thy  speech,  methinks,  sounds  some- 
what foreign." 

"  1  am  an  Armorican,  my  lord,  from  the  merry  shores  of 
Morbihan  ;  and  hence  my  tongue  hath  some  touch  of  my 
country  speech.     My  name  is,  Renault  Vidal." 

"  Such  being  the  case,  Renault,"  said  the  Constable,  "  thou 
shalt  follow  me,  and  I  will  give  orders  to  the  master  of  my 
household  to  have  thee  attired  something  according  to  thy 
function,  but  in  more  orderly  guise  than  thou  now  appearest 
in.     Dost  thou  understand  the  use  of  a  weapon  ?  " 

"Indifferently,  my  lord,"  said  the  Armorican;  at  the 
same  time  taking  a  sword  fjom  the  wall,  he  drew  it,  and 
made  a  pass  with  it  so  close  to  the  Constable's  body,  as  he 
sat  on  the  couch,  that  he  started  up,  crying,  "  Villain,  for- 
bear ! " 

"  La  you  !  noble  sir,"  replied  Vidal,  lowering  with  all 

submission  the  point  of  his  weapon,  "  I  have  already  given 

you  a  proof  of  sleight  which  has  alarmed  even  your  experi- 

aiij  ence  ;  I  have  an  hundred  other  besides." 

not  I      "It  may  be  so,"  said  De  Lacy,  somewhat  ashamed  at 


176  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

having  shown  himself  moved  by  the  sudden  and  lively  action 
of  the  juggler  ;  ''  but  I  love  not  jesting  with  edge-tools,  and 
nave  too  much  to  do  with  sword  and  sword-blows  in  earnest 
to  toy  with  them  ;  so  I  pray  you  let  us  have  no  more  of  this, 
but  call  me  my  squire  and  my  chamberlain,  for  I  am  about 
to  array  me  and  go  to  mass." 

The  religious  duties  of  the  morning  performed,  it  was  the 
Constable's  intention  to  visit  the  lady  abbess,  and  communi- 
cate, with  the  necessary  precautions  and  qualifications,  the 
altered  relations  in  which  he  was  placed  towards  her  niece, 
by  the  resolution  he  had  been  compelled  to  adopt,  of  depart- 
ing for  the  Crusade  before  accomplishing  his  marriage,  in 
the  terms  of  the  precontract  already  entered  into.  He  was 
conscious  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  reconcile  the  good 
lady  to  this  change  of  measures,  and  he  delayed  some  time 
ere  he  could  think  of  the  best  mode  of  communicating  and 
softening  the  unpleasant  intelligence.  An  interval  was  also 
spent  in  a  visit  to  his  nephew,  whose  state  of  convalescence 
continued  to  be  as  favorable  as  if  in  truth  it  had  been  a 
miraculous  consequence  of  the  Constable's  having  complied 
with  the  advice  of  the  Archbishop. 

From  the  lodging  of  Damian,  the  Constable  proceeded  to 
ehe  convent  of  the  Benedictine  abbess.  But  she  had  been 
already  made  acquainted  with  the  circumstances  which  he 
came  to  communicate,  by  a  still  earlier  visit  from  the  Arch- 
bishop Baldwin  himself.  The  Primate  had  undertaken  the 
office  of  mediator  on  this  occasion,  conscious  that  his  suc- 
cess of  the  evening  before  must  have  placed  the  Constable  in 
a  delicate  situation  with  the  relations  of  his  betrothed  bride, 
and  willing,  by  his  countenance  and  authority,  to  reconcile 
the  disputes  which  might  ensue.  Perhaps  he  had  better 
have  left  Hugo  de  Lacy  to  plead  his  own  cause  ;  for  tlie  ab- 
bess, though  she  listened  to  the  communication  with  all  the 
respect  due  to  the  highest  dignitary  of  the  English  Church, 
drew  consequences  from  the  Constable's  change  of  resolution 
which  the  Primate  had  not  expected.  She  ventured  to  op- 
pose no  obstacle  to  De  Lacy's  accomplishment  of  his  vows, 
but  strongly  argued  that  the  contract  with  her  niece  should 
be  entirety  set  aside,  and  each  party  left  at  liberty  to  form  a 
new  choice. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  Archbishop  endeavored  to  dazzle 
the  abbess  with  the  future  honors  to  be  won  by  the  Consta- 
ble in  the  Holy  Land,  the  splendor  of  which  would  attach 
not  to  his  lady  alone,  but  to  all  in  the  remotest  degree 
allied  to  or  connected  with  her.    All  his  eloquence  was  to  no 


THE  BETROTHED  111 

purpose,  though  upon  so  favorite  a  topic  he  exerted  it  to 
the  utmost.  The  abbess,  it  is  true,  remained  silent  for  a 
moment  after  his  arguments  had  been  exhausted,  but  it  was 
only  to  consider  how  she  should  intimate,  in  a  suitable  and 
reverent  manner,  that  children,  the  usual  attendants  of  a 
happy  union,  and  the  existence  of  which  she  looked  to  for 
the  continuation  of  the  house  of  her  father  and  brother, 
could  not  be  hoped  for  with  any  probability  unless  the  pre- 
contract was  followed  by  marriage,  and  the  residence  of  the 
married  parties  in  the  same  country.  She  therefore  insisted 
that,  the  Constable  having  altered  his  iiitentions  in  this  most 
important  particular,  the  fiangaiUes  should  be  entirely  abro- 
gated and  set  aside  ;  and  she  demanded  of  the  Primate,  as 
an  act  of  justice,  that,  as  he  had  interfered  to  prevent  the, 
bridegroom's  execution  of  his  original  purpose,  he  should 
now  assist  with  his  influence  wholly  to  dissolve  an  engage- 
ment which  had  been  thus  materially  innovated  upon. 

The  Primate,  who  was  sensible  he  had  himself  occasioned 
De  Lacy's  breach  of  contract,  felt  himself  bound  in  honor 
and  reputation  to  prevent  consequences  so  disagreeable  to  his 
friend  as  the  dissolution  of  an  engagement  in  which  his  in- 
terest and  inclinations  were  alike  concerned.  He  reproved 
the  lady  abbess  for  the  carnal  and  secular  views  which  she, 
a  dignitary  of  the  church,  entertained  upon  the  subject  of 
matrimony  and  concerning  the  interest  of  her  house.  He 
even  upbraided  her  with  selfishly  preferring  the  continuation 
of  the  line  of  Berenger  to  the  recovery  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
cher,  and  denounced  to  her  that  Heaven  would  be  avenged  of 
the  short-sighted  and  merely  human  policy  which  postponed 
the  interests  of  Christendom  to  those  of  an  individual  family. 

After  this  severe  homily,  the  prelate  took  his  departure, 
leaving  the  abbess  highly  incensed,  though  she  prudently 
forbore  returning  any  irreverent  answer  to  his  paternal  ad- 
monition. 

In  this  humor  the  venerable  lady  was  found  by  the  Con- 
stable himself,  when,  with  some  embarrassment,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  explain  to  her  the  necessity  of  his  present  depar- 
cure  for  Palestine. 

She  received  the  communication  with  sullen  dignity,  her 
imple  black  robe  and  scapular  seeming,  as  it  were,  to  swell 
Dut  in  yet  prouder  folds  as  she  listened  to  the  reasons  and 
the  emergencies  which  compelled  the  Constable  of  Chester 
'.0  defer  the  marriage,  which  he  avowed  was  the  dearest  wish 
)f  his  heart,  until  after  his  return  from  the  Crusade,  tor 
^vhich  he  was  about  to  set  forth. 

12 


m  WA  VERLET  NO  VEL S 

"  Methinks,"  replied  the  abbess,  with  much  coldness,  "if 
this  communication  is  meant  for  earnest — and  it  were  no  fit 
business,  I  myself  no  fit  person,  for  jesting  with — methinks 
the  Constable's  resolution  should  have  been  proclaimed  to 
us  yesterday,  before  t\\Q  fian^ailles  had  united  his  troth  with 
that  of  Eveline  Berenger,  under  expectations  very  different  . 
from  those  which  he  now  announces."  : 

"On  the  word  of  a  knight  and  a  gentleman,   reverend  < 
lady,"  said  the  Constable,""  I  had  not  then  the  slightest! 
thought  that  I  should  be  called  upon  to  take  a  step  no  lessi 
distressing  to  me  than,  as  I  see  with  pain,  it  is  unpleasing 
to  you." 

"  I  can  scarcely  conceive,"  replied  the  abbess,  "  the  cogent 
reasons  which,  existing  as  they  must  have  done  yesterday, 
have  nevertheless  delayed  their  operation  until  to-day." 

"  I  own,"  said  De  Lacy,  reluctantly,  "  that  I  entertained 
too  ready  hopes  of  obtaining  a  remission  from  my  vow, 
which  my  Lord  of  Canterbury  hath,  in  iiis  zeal  for  Heaven's 
service,  deemed  it  necessary  to  refuse  me." 

^'At  least,  then,"  said  the  abbess,  veiling  her  resentment 
under  the  appearance  of  extreme  coldness,  "  your  lordship 
will  do  us  the  justice  to  place  us  in  the  same  situation  in 
which  we  stood  yesterday  morning  ;  and,  by  joining  with 
my  niece  and  her  friends  in  desiring  the  abrogation  of  a 
marriage  contract,  entered  into  with  very  different  views 
from  tliose  which  you  now  entertain,  put  a  young  person  in 
that  state  of  liberty  of  which  she  is  at  present  deprived  by 
her  contract  with  you  ?  " 

"Ah,  madam  !"  said  the  Constable,  "what  do  you  ask  of 
me  ?  and  in  a  tone  how  cold  and  indifferent  do  yon  demand 
me  to  resign  hopes  the  dearest  which  my  bosom  ever  enter- 
tained since  the  life-blood  warmed  it  ! " 

"I  am  unacquainted  with  language  belonging  to  such 
feelings,  my  lord,"  replied  the  abbess  ;  "  but  methinks  the 
prospects  which  could  be  so  easily  adjourned  for  years,  might, 
by  a  little,  and  a  very  little,  further  self-control  be  altogether 
abandoned." 

Hugo  de  Lacy  paced  the  room  in  agitation,  nor  did  he 
answer  until  after  a  considerable  pause.  "  If  your  niece, 
madam,  shares  the  sentiments  which  you  have  expressed,  I 
could  not,  indeed,  with  justice  to  her,  or  perhaps  to  myself, 
desire  to  retain  that  interest  in  her  which  our  solemn 
espousals  have  given  me.  But  I  must  know  my  doom  from 
her  own  lips  ;  and  if  it  is  as  severe  as  that  which  your  ex- 
pressions lead  me  to  fear,  I  will  go  to  Palestine  the  he^Pi 


I^5-X|.ru^ 


•  Evelya  entered  at  the  moment- 


^ 


THE  BETROTHED  179 

Boldicr  of  Heaven  that  I  shall  have  little  left  on  earth  that 
can  interest  me." 

The  abbess,  without  farther  answer,  called  on  her  pre- 
centrix,  and  desired  her  to  command  her  niece's  attendance 
immediately.  The  precentrix  bowed  reverently  and  with- 
drew. 

"  May  I  presume  to  inquire/'  said  De  Lacy,  "  whether 
the  Lady  Eveline  hath  been  possessed  of  the  circumstances 
wliich  have  occasioned  this  unhappy  alteration  in  ray 
purpose  ?  " 

"1  have  communicated  the  whole  to  her,  from  point  to 
jioint,"  said  the  abbess,  "  even  as  it  was  explained  to  me 
this  morning  by  my  Lord  of  Canterbury — for  with  him  I 
have  already  spoken  upon  the  subject — and  confirmed  but 
noAV  by  your  lordship's  own  mouth." 

"  I  am  little  obliged  to  the  Archbishop,"  said  the  Con- 
stable, "for  having  forestalled  my  excuses  in  the  quarter 
where  it  was  most  important  for  me  that  they  should  be 
accurately  stated  and  favorably  received." 

"  That,"  said  the  abbess,  "  is  but  an  item  of  the  account 
betwixt  you  and  the  prelate  ;  it  concerns  not  us." 

"Dare  I  venture  to  hope,"  continued  De  Lacy,  without 
taking  offense  at  the  dryness  of  the  abbess's  manner, 
"that  Lady  Eveline  has  heard  this  most  unhappy  change 
of  circumstances  without  emotion — I  would  say,  without 
displeasure  ?" 

"  She  is  the  daughter  of  a  Berenger,  my  lord,"  answered 
the  abbess,  "  and  it  is  our  custom  to  punish  a  breach  of 
faith  or  to  contemn  it,  never  to  grieve  over  it.  What  my 
niece  may  do  in  this  case  I  know  not.  I  am  a  woman  of 
religion,  sequestered  from  the  world,  and  would  advise 
peace  and  Christian  forgiveness,  with  a  proper  sense  of 
contempt  for  the  unworthy  treatment  which  she  has  re- 
ceived. She  has  followers  and  vassals,  and  friends,  doubt- 
less, and  advisers,  who  may  not,  in  blinded  zeal  for  worldly 
honor,  recommend  to  her  to  sit  down  slightly  with  this 
injury,  but  desire  she  should  rather  appeal  to  the  king, 
or  to  the  arms  of  her  father's  followers,  unless  her  liberty- 
is  restored  to  her  by  the  surrender  of  the  contract  into 
which  she  has  been  enticed.  But  she  comes  to  answer 
for  herself." 

Eveline  entered  at  the  moment,  leaning  on  Eose's  arm. 
She  had  laid  aside  mourning  since  the  ceremony  of  the 
fiafiQailles,  and  was  dressed  in  a  kirtle  of  white,  with  an 
upper  robe  of   pale   blue.     Her  head  was  covered  with  9 


180  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

reil  of  white  gauze  so  thin  as  to  float  about  her  like  the 
misty  cloud  usually  painted  around  the  countenance  of  a 
seraph.  But  the  face  of  Eveline,  though  in  beauty  not  un- 
worthy one  of  this  angelic  order,  was  at  present  far  from 
resembling  that  of  a  seraph  in  tranquillity  of  expression. 
Her  limbs  trembled,  her  cheeks  were  pale,  the  tinge  of  red 
around  the  eyelids  expressed  recent  tears  ;  yet,  amidst  these 
natural  signs  of  distress  and  uncertainty,  there  was  an  air  of 
profound  resignation — a  resolution  to  discharge  her  duty  in 
every  emergence  reigning  in  the  solemn  expression  of  her 
eye  and  eyebrow,  and  showing  her  prepared  to  govern  the 
agitation  which  she  could  not  entirely  subdue.  And  so  well 
tvere  these  opposing  qualities  of  timidity  and  resohition 
mingled  on  her  cheek,  that  Eveline,  in  the  utmost  pride  of 
her  beauty,  never  looked  more  fascinating  than  at  that  in- 
stant ;  and  Hugo  de  Lacy,  hitherto  rather  an  unimpassioned 
lover,  stood  in  her  presence  with  feelings  as  if  all  the  exag- 
gerations of  romance  were  realized,  and  his  mistress  were  a 
being  of  a  higher  sphere,  from  whose  doom  he  was  to  receive 
happiness  or  misery,  life  or  death. 

It  was  under  the  influence  of  such  a  feeling  that  the  war- 
rior dropped  on  one  knee  before  Eveline,  took  the  hand 
which  she  rather  resigned  than  gave  to  him,  pressed  it  to  his 
lips  fervently,  and  ere  he  parted  with  it,  moistened  it  with 
one  of  the  few  tears  which  he  was  ever  known  to  shed.  But, 
although  surprised,  and  carried  out  of  his  character  by  a 
sudden  impulse,  he  regained  his  composure  on  observing 
that  the  abbess  regarded  his  humiliation,  if  it  can  be  so 
termed,  with  an  air  of  triumph  ;  and  he  entered  on  his  de- 
fense before  Eveline  with  a  manly  earnestness,  not  devoid 
of  fervor,  nor  free  from  agitation,  yet  made  in  a  tone  of 
firmness  and  pride  which  seemed  assumed  to  meet  and  con- 
trol that  of  the  offended  abbess. 

"  Lady,"  he  said,  addressing  Eveline,  **  you  have  heard 
from  the  venerable  abbess  in  what  unhappy  position  I  have 
been  placed  since  yesterday  by  the  rigor  of  the  Archbishop — 
perhaps  I  should  rather  say  by  his  just  though  severe  inter-: 
pretation  of  my  engagement  in  the  Crusade.  I  cannot  ^2 
doubt  that  all  this  has  been  stated  with  accurate  truth  by 
the  venerable  lady ;  but,  as  I  must  no  longer  call  her  my 
friend,  let  me  fear  whether  she  has  done  me  justice  in  her 
commentary  upon  the  unhappy  necessity  which  must  pres- 
ently compel  me  to  leave  my  country,  and  with  my  country 
to  forego — at  best  to  postpone — the  fairest  hopes  which  man 
ever  entertained.     The  venerable  lady  hath  upbraided  me, 


8tlC 

mi 


ftfl 

Cli 

ih 


II 

SfflDK 
Hi 

Jiuf, 


THE  BETROTHED  181 

that,  being  myself  the  cause  that  the  execution  of  yester- 
day's contract  is  postponed,  I  would  fain  keep  it  suspended 
over  your  head  for  an  indefinite  term  of  years.  No  one 
resigns  willingly  such  rights  as  yesterday  gave  me  ;  and,  let 
me  speak  a  boastful  word,  sooner  than  yield  them  up  to 
or  man  or  woman  born,  I  would  hold  a  fair  field  against  all 
comers,  with  grinded  sword  and  sharp  spear,  from  sunrise 
to  sunset,  for  three  days'  space.  But  what  I  would  retain  at 
the  price  of  a  thousand  lives,  I  am  willing  to  renounce  if  it 
would  cost  you  a  single  sigh.  If,  therefore,  you  think  you 
cannot  remain  happy  as  the  betrothed  of  De  Lacy,  you  may 
command  my  assistance  to  have  the  contract  annulled,  and 
make  some  more  fortunate  man  happy." 

He  would  have  gone  on,  but  felt  the  danger  of  being  over- 
powered again  by  those  feelings  of  tenderness  so  new  to  his 
steady  nature,  that  he  blushed  to  give  way  to  them. 

Eveline  remained  silent. 

The  abbess  took  the  word.  •'  Kinswoman,"  she  said, 
"  you  hear  that  the  generosity,  or  the  justice,  of  the  Con- 
stable of  Chester  proposes,  in  consequence  of  his  departure 
u[ion  a  distant  and  perilous  expedition,  to  cancel  a  contract 
entered  into  upon  the  specific  and  precise  understanding 
that  he  was  to  remain  in  England  for  its  fulfilment.  You 
cannot,  methinks,  hesitate  to  accept  of  the  freedom  which 
he  offers  you,  with  thanks  for  his  bounty.  For  my  part,  I 
will  reserve  mine  own  until  I  shall  see  that  your  joint  appli- 
cation is  sufficient  to  win  to  your  purpose  his  Grace  of  Can- 
terbury, who  may  again  interfere  with  the  actions  of  his 
friend  the  Lord  Constable,  over  whom  he  has  already  exerted 
so  much  influence,  for  the  weal,  doubtless,  of  his  spiritual 
concerns." 

''If  it  is  meant  by  your  words,  venerable  lady,"  said  the 
Constable,  "  that  I  have  any  purpose  of  sheltering  myself 
behind  the  prelate's  authority,  to  avoid  doing  that  which  I 
proclaim  my  readiness,  though  not  my  willingness,  to  do,  I 
can  only  say  that  you  are  the  first  who  has  doubted  the  faith 
of  Hugo  de  Lacy."  And  while  the  proud  baron  thus  addressed 
a  female  and  a  recluse,  he  could  not  prevent  his  eye  from 
sparkling  and  his  cheek  from  flushing. 

"My  gracious  and  venerable  kinswoman,"  said  Eveline, 
summoning  together  her  resolution,  "  and  you,  my  good 
lord,  be  not  offended,  if  I  pray  you  not  to  increase  by  ground- 
less suspicions  and  hasty  resentments  your  difficulties  and 
mine.  My  lord,  the  obligations  which  I  lie  under  to  you  are 
such  as  I  can  never  discharge,  since  they  comprehend  for- 


182  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

tune,  life,  and  honor.  Know  that,  in  my  anguish  of  mind, 
when  besieged  by  the  Welsh  in  my  castle  of  the  Garde 
Doloureuse,  I  vowed  to  the  Virgin  that,  my  honor  safe,  I 
would  place  myself  at  the  disposal  of  him  whom  Our  Lady 
should  employ  as  her  instrument  to  relieve  me  from  yonder 
hour  of  agony.  In  giving  me  a  deliverer,  she  gave  me  a 
master ;  nor  could  I  desire  a  more  noble  one  than  Hugo  de 
Lacy." 

"  God  forbid,  lady,"  said  the  Constable,  speaking  eagerly, 
as  if  he  was  afraid  his  resolution  should  fail  him  ere  he 
could  get  the  renunciation  uttered,  "  that  I  should,  by  such' 
a  tie,  to  which  you  subjected  yourself  -in  the  extremity  of 
your  distress,  bind  you  to  any  resolution  in  my  favor  which 
can  put  force  on  your  own  inclinations  ! " 

The  abbess  herself  could  not  help  expressing  her  applause 
of  this  sentiment,  declaring  it  was  spoken  like  a  IVorman 
gentleman  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  her  eyes,  turned  towards 
her  niece,  seemed  to  exhort  her  to  beware  how  she  declined 
to  profit  by  the  candor  of  De  Lacy. 

But  Eveline  proceeded,  Avith  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground, 
and  a  slight  color  overspreading  her  face,  to  state  her  own 
sentiments,  without  listening  to  the  suggestions  of  any  one. 
"  I  will  own,  noble  sir,"  she  said,  "  that,  when  your  valor 
had  rescued  me  from  approaching  destruction,  I  could  have 
wished — honoring  and  respecting  you,  as  I  had  done  your 
late  friend,  my  excellent  father — that  you  could  have  ac- 
cepted a  daughter's  service  from  me.  I  do  not  pretend  en- 
tirely to  have  surmounted  these  sentiments,  although  I  have 
combated  them,  as  being  unworthy  of  me  and  ungrateful  to 
you.  But,  from  the  moment  you  were  pleased  to  honor  me 
by  a  claim  on  this  poor  hand,  I  have  studiously  examined 
my  sentiments  towards  you,  and  taught  myself  so  far  to 
make  them  coincide  with  my  duty,  that  I  may  call  myself 
assured  that  De  Lacy  would  not  find  in  Eveline  Berenger  an 
indifferent,  far  less  an  unworthy,  bride.  In  this,  sir,  you 
may  boldly  confide,  whether  the  union  you  have  sought' for 
takes  place  instantly  or  is  delayed  till  a  longer  season.  Still 
farther,  I  must  acknowledge  that  the  postponement  of  these 
nuptials  will  be  more  agreeable  to  me  than  their  immediate 
accomplishment.  I  am  at  present  very  young,  and  totally 
inexperienced.  Two  or  three  year's  will,  I  trust,  render 
me  yet  more  worthy  the  regard  of  a  man  of  honor." 

At  this  declaration  iu  his  favor,  however  cold  and  qualified, 
De  Lacy  had  as  much  difficulty  to  restrain  his  transports  as 
formerly  to  moderate  his  agitation. 


THE  BETRO       ED  183 

"  Angel  of  bounty  and  of  kindness  ! "  he  said,  kneeling 
once  more,  and  again  possessing  himself  of  her  hand,  "  per- 
haps I  ought  in  honor  to  resign  voluntarily  those  hopes 
which  you  decline  to  ravish  from  me  forcibly.  But  who 
could  be  capable  of  such  unrelenting  magnanimity  ?  Let 
me  hope  that  my  devoted  attachment,  that  which  you  shall 
hear  of  me  when  at  a  distance,  that  which  you  shall  know 
of  me  when  near  you,  may  give  to  your  sentiments  a  more 
tender  warmth  than  they  now  express ;  and,  in  the  mean- 
while, blame  me  not  that  I  accept  your  plighted  faith  anew, 
under  the  conditions  which  you  attach  to  it.  I  am  conscious 
my  wooing  has  beeu  too  late  in  life  to  expect  the  animated 
returns  proper  to  youthful  passion.  Blame  me  not  if  I 
remain  satisfied  with  those  calmer  sentiments  which  make  life 
happy,  though  they  cannot  make  passion  rapturous.  Your 
hand  remains  in  my  grasp,  but  it  acknowledges  not  my 
pressure.  Can  it  be  that  it  refuses  to  ratify  what  your  lips 
have  said  ?  " 

"Never,  noble  De  Lacy!"  said  Eveline,  with  more  ani- 
mation than  she  had  yet  expressed;  and  it  appeared  that  the 
tone  was  at  length  sufficiently  encouraging,  since  her  lover 
was  emboldened  to  take  the  lips  themselves  for  guarantee. 

It  was  with  an  air  of  pride,  mingled  Avitli  respect,  that, 
after  having  received  this  pledge  of  fidelity,  he  turned  to 
conciliate  and  to  appease  the  offended  abbess.  "  I  trust, 
venerable  mother,"  he  said,  "that  you  will  resume  your 
former  kind  thoughts  of  me,  which  I  am  aware  were  only 
interrupted  by  your  tender  anxiety  for  the  interest  of  her 
who  should  be  dearest  to  us  both.  Let  me  hope  that  I  may 
^eave  this  fair  flower  under  the  protection  of  the  honored 
lady  who  is  her  next  in  blood,  happy  and  secure  as  she  must 
ever  be  while  listening  to  your  counsels  and  residing  within 
these  sacred  walls." 

But  the  abbess  was  too  deeply  displeased  to  be  propitiated 
by  a  compliment  which  perhaps  it  had  been  better  policy  to 
have  delayed  till  a  calmer  season.  "My  lord,"  she  said, 
"and  you,  fair  kinswoman,  you  ought  needs  to  be  aware 
how  little  my  counsels,  not  frequentty  given  where  they 
are  unwillingly  listened  to,  can  be  of  avail  to  those  embarked 
in  worldly  affairs.  I  am  a  woman  dedicated  to  religion,  to 
solitude,  and  seclusion — to  the  service,  in  brief ,  of  Our  Lady 
and  St.  Benedict.  I  have  been  already  censured  by  my 
superior  because  I  have,  for  love  of  you,  fair  niece,  mixed 
more  deeply  in  secular  affairs  than  became  the  head  of  a 
convent  of  recluses .     J  will  merit  no  farther  blame  on  such 


184  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

an  account,  nor  can  yon  expect  it  of  me.  My  brother's 
daughter,  unfettered  by  worldly  ties,  had  been  the  welcome 
sharer  of  my  poor  solitude.  But  this  house  is  too  mean  for 
the  residence  of  the  vowed  bride  of  a  mighty  baron  ;  nor  do 
I,  in  my  lowliness  and  inexperience,  feel  fitness  to  exercise 
over  such  a  one  that  authority  which  must  belong  to  me 
over  every  one  whom  this  roof  protects.  The  grave  tenor  of 
our  devotions,  and  the  serener  contemplation  to  which  the 
females  of  this  house  are  devoted,"  continued  the  abbess, 
with  increasing  heat  and  vehemence,  "  shall  not,  for  the 
sake  of  my  worldly  connections,  be  disturbed  by  the  intru- 
sion of  one  whose  thoughts  must  needs  be  on  the  worldly 
toys  of  love  and  marriage." 

"  I  do  indeed  believe,  reverend  mother,"  said  the  Con- 
stable, in  his  turn  giving  way  to  displeasure,  "  that  a  richly- 
dowered  maiden,  unwedded,  and  unlikely  to  wed,  were  a 
fitter  and  more  welcome  inmate  to  the  convent  than  one  who 
cannot  be  separated  from  the  world,  and  whose  wealth  is  not 
likely  to  increase  the  house's  revenues." 

The  Constable  did  the  abbess  great  injury  in  this  hasty 
insinuation,  and  it  only  went  to  confirm  her  purpose  of  re- 
jecting all  charge  of  her  niece  during  his  absence.  She  was 
in  truth  as  disinterested  as  haughty  ;  and  her  only  reason 
for  anger  against  her  niece  was,  that  her  advice  had  not 
been  adopted  without  hesitation,  although  the  matter  re- 
garded Eveline's  happiness  exclusively. 

The  ill-timed  reflection  of  the  Constable  confirmed  her  in 
the  resolution  which  she  had  already,  and  hastily,  adopted. 
"May  Heaven  forgive  you,  sir  knight,"  she  replied,  "your 
injurious  thoughts  of  His  servants  !  It  is  indeed  time,  for 
your  soul's  sake,  that  you  do  penance  in  the  Holy  Land, 
having  such  rash  judgments  to  repent  of.  For  you,  my 
niece,  you  cannot  want  that  hospitality  which,  without 
verifying,  or  seeming  to  verify,  unjust  suspicions,  I  cannot 
now  grant  to  you,  while  you  have,  in  your  kinswoman  of 
Baldringham,  a  secular  relation,  whose  nearness  of  blood 
approaches  mine,  and  who  may  open  her  gates  to  you  with- 
out incurring  the  unworthy  censure  that  she  means  to  enrich 
herself  at  your  cost." 

The  Constable  saw  the  deadly  paleness  which  came  over 
Eveline's  cheek  at  this  proposal,  and,  without  knowing  the 
cause  of  her  repugnance,  he  hastened  to  relieve  her  from  the 
apprehensions  which  she  seemed  evidently  to  entertain. 
"  No,  reverend  mother,"  he  said  ;  "  since  yoto  so  harshly  re- 
ject the  care  of  your  kinswomg-n,  she  shall  not  be  a  burden 


THE  BETROTHED  186 

to  any  of  her  other  relatives.  While  Hugo  de  Lacy  hath  six 
gallant  castles,  and  many  a  manor  besides,  to  maintain  fire 
upon  their  hearths,  his  betrothed  bride  shall  burden  no  one 
with  her  society  who  may  regard  it  as  otherwise  than  a  great 
honor;  and  methinks  I  were  much  poorer  than  Heaven  hath 
made  me,  could  I  not  furnish  friends  and  followers  sufficient 
to  serve,  obey,  and  protect  her/' 

"  No,  my  lord,"  said  Eveline,  recovering  from  the  dejec- 
tion into  which  she  had  been  thrown  by  the  unkindness  of 
her  relative  ;  ''  since  some  unhappy  destiny  separates  me 
from  the  protection  of  my  father's  sister,  to  whom  I  could 
so  securely  have  resigned  myself,  I  will  neither  apply  for 
shelter  to  any  mor^  distant  relation  nor  accept  of  that  which 
you,  my  lord,  so  generously  offer  ;  since  my  doing  so  might 
excite  harsh,  and,  I  am  sure,  undeserved,  reproaches  against 
her  by  whom  I  was  driven  to  choose  a  less  advisable  dwelling- 
place.  I  have  made  my  resolution.  I  have,  it  is  true,  only 
one  friend  left,  but  she  is  a  powerful  one,  and  is  able  to  pro- 
tect me  against  the  particular  evil  fate  which  seems  to  follow 
me,  as  well  as  against  the  ordinary  evils  of  human  life." 

"The  queen,  I  suppose?"  said  the  abbess,  interrupting 
her  impatiently. 

"  The  Queen  of  Heaven  !  venerable  kinswoman,"  answered 
Eveline — "  our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  ever  gracious 
to  our  house,  and  so  lately  my  especial  guardian  and  pro- 
tectress. Methinks,  since  the  vowed  votaress  of  the  Virgin 
rejects  me,  it  is  to  her  holy  patroness  whom  I  ought  to  apply 
for  succor." 

The  venerable  dame,  taken  somewhat  at  unawares  by  this 
answer,  pronounced  the  interjection,  ''Umph!"  in  a  tone 
better  befitting  a  Lollard  or  an  Iconoclast  than  a -Catholic 
abbess,  and  a  daughter  of  the  house  of  Berenger.  Truth  is, 
the  lady  abbess's  hereditary  devotion  to  the  Lady  of  the 
Garde  Doloureuse  was  much  decayed  since  she  had  known 
the  full  merits  of  another  gifted  image,  the  property  of  her 
own  convent. 

Eecollecting  herself,  however,  she  remained  silent,  while 
the  Constable  alleged  the  vicinity  of  the  Welsh,  as  what 
might  possibly  again  render  the  abode  of  his  betrothed  bride 
at  the  Garde  Doloureuse  as  perilous  as  she  had  on  a  former 
occasion  found  it.  To  this  Eveline  replied,  by  reminding 
him  of  the  great  strength  of  her  native  fortress,  the  various 
sieges  which  it  had  withstood,  and  the  important  circum- 
stances, that,  upon  the  late  occasion,  it  was  only  endangered 
because,  in  compliance  with  a  point  of  honor,  her  father 


186  WAVBRLEY  NOVELS 

Raymond  had  sallied  out  with  the  garrison,  and  fought  at 
disadvantage  a  battle  under  the  walls.  She  farther  sug- 
gested, that  it  was  easy  for  the  Constable  to  name,  from 
among  his  own  vassals  or  hers,  a  seneschal  of  such  approved 
prudence  and  valor  as  might  ensure  the  safety  of  the  place 
and  of  its  lady. 

Ere  De  Lacy  could  reply  to  her  arguments,  the  abbess 
rose,  and,  pleading  her  total  inability  to  give  counsel  in  sec- 
ular affairs,  and  ths  rules  of  her  order,  which  called  her,  as  she 
said,  with  a  heightened  color  and  raised  voice,  "  to  the  simple 
and  peaceful  discharge  of  her  conventual  duties,"  she  left  the 
betrothed  parties  in  the  locutory,  or  parlor,  without  any  com- 
pany save  Rose,  who  prudently  reniained  at  some  distance. 

The  issue  of  their  private  conference  seemed  agreeable  to 
both  ;  and  when  Eveline  told  Rose  that  they  were  to  return 
presently  to  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  under  a  sufficient  escort, 
and  were  to  remain  there  during  the  period  of  the  Crusade, 
it  was  in  a  tone  of  heartfelt  satisfaction  which  her  follower 
had  not  heard  her  make  use  of  for  many  days.  She  spoke 
also  highly  in  praise  of  the  kind  acquiescence  of  the  Con- 
stable in  her  wishes,  and  of  his  whole  conduct  witli  a 
warmth  of  gratitude  approaching  to  a  more  tender  feeling. 

"And  yet,  my  dearest  lady," said  Rose,  "if you  will  speak 
unfeignedly,  you  must,  I  am  convinced,  allow,  that  you 
loo!:  upon  this  interval  of  years  interposed  betwixt  your 
contract  and  your  marriage  rather  as  a  respite  than  in  any 
other  light." 

"I  confess  it,"  said  Eveline,  "nor  have  I  concealed  from 
my  future  lord  that  such  are  my  feelings,  ungracious  as  they 
may  seem.  But  it  is  my  youth.  Rose — my  extreme  youth, 
which  makes  me  fear  the  duties  of  De  Lacy's  wife.  Then 
those  evil  auguries  hang  strangely  about  me.  Devoted  to 
evil  by  one  kinswoman,  expelled  almost  from  the  roof  of 
another,  I  seem  .to  myself,  at  present,  a  creature  who  must 
carry  distress  with  her,  pass  where  she  will.  This  evil  hour, 
and,  what  is  more,  the  apprehensions  of  it,  will  give  way  to 
time.  When  I  shall  have  attained  the  age  of  twenty.  Rose, 
I  shall  be  a  full-grown  woman,  with  all  the  soul  of  a  Be- 
renger  strong  within  me,  to  overcome  those  doubts  and 
tremors  which  agitate  the  girl  of  seventeen." 

"  Ah  !  my  sweet  mistress,"  answered  Rose,  "  may  God  and 
Our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  guide  all  for  the  best  I 
But  I  would  that  this  contract  had  not  taken  place,  or,  hav- 
ing taken  place,  that  it  could  have  been  fulfilled  by  your 
immediate  union/' 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  king  called  down  his  merry-men  all, 

By  one,  and  by  two,  and  three  ; 
Earl  Marshal  was  wont  to  be  the  foremost  man, 

But  the  hindmost  man  was  he. 

Old  Ballad. 

If  the  Lady  Eveline  retired  satisfied  and  pleased  from  her 
private  interview  with  De  Lacy,  the  joy  on  the  part  of  the 
Constable  arose  to  a  higher  pitch  of  rapture  than  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  feeling  or  expressing ;  and  it  was  augmented 
by  a  visit  of  the  leeches  who  attended  his  nephew,  from 
whom  he  received  a  minute  and  particular  account  of 
his  present  disorder,  with  every  assurance  of  a  speedy  re- 
covery. 

The  Constable  caused  alms  to  be  distributed  to  the  convents 
and  to  the  poor,  masses  to  be  said,  and  tapers  to  be  lighted. 
He  visited  the  Archbishop,  and  received  from  him  his  full 
approbation  of  the  course  which  he  proposed  to  pursue,  with 
the  promise  that,  out  of  the  plenary  power  which  he  held 
from  the  Pope,  the  prelate  was  willing,  in  consideration  of 
his  instant  obedience,  to  limit  his  stay  in  the  Holy  Land  to 
the  term  of  three  years,  to  become  current  from  his  leaving 
Britain,  and  to  include  the  space  necessary  for  his  return  to 
his  native  country.  Indeed,  having  succeeded  in  the  main 
point,  the  Archbishop  judged  it  wise  to  concede  every  in- 
ferior consideration  to  a  person  of  the  Constable's  rank  and 
character,  whose  good-will  to  the  proposed  expedition  was 
perhaps  as  essential  to  its  success  as  his  bodily  presence. 

In  sliort,  the  Constable  returned  to  his  pavilion  highly 
satisfied  with  the  manner  in  which  he  had  extricated  him- 
self from  those  difficulties  which  in  the  morning  seemed 
almost  insuperable  ;  and  when  his  officers  assembled  to  dis- 
robe him  (for  great  feudal  lords  had  their  levees  and  couchees, 
in  imitation  of  sovereign  princes),  he  distributed  gratuities 
among  them,  and  jested  and  laughed  in  a  much  gayer  humor 
than  they  had  ever  before  witnessed. 

*'  For  thee,"  he  said,  turning  to  Vidal,  the  minstrel,  who, 
sumptuously  dressed,  stood  to  pay  his  respects  among  the 
other  attendants,  "  I  will  give  thee  nought  at  present :  but 
187 


188  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

do  thou  remain  by  my  bedside  until  I  am  asleep,  and  I  will 
next  morning  reward  thy  minstrelsy  as  I  like  it." 

"  My  lord/'  said  Vidal,  "I  am  already  rewarded,  both  by 
the  honor  and  by  the  liveries,  which  better  befit  a  royal  min- 
strel than  one  of  my  mean  fame  ;  but  assign  me  a  subject, 
and  I  will  do  my  best,  not  out  of  greed  of  future  largesses, 
but  gratitude  for  past  favors/' 

'' Gramercy,  good  fellow,"  said  the  Constable.  *^  Gua- 
rine,"  he  added,  addressing  his  squire,  "let  the  watch  be 
posted,  and  do  thou  remain  within  the  tent ;  stretch  thyself 
on  the  bear-hide,  and  sleep,  or  listen  to  the  minstrelsy,  as 
thou  likest  best.  Thou  thinkest  thyself  a  judge,  I  have 
heard,  of  such  gear." 

It  was  usual,  in  those  insecure  times,  for  some  faithful 
domestic  to  sleep  at  night  within  the  tent  of  every  great 
baron,  that,  if  danger  arose,  he  might  not  be  unsupported 
or  unprotected.  Guarine  accordingly  drew  his  sword,  and, 
taking  it  in  his  hand,  stretched  himself  on  the  ground  in 
such  a  manner  that,  on  the  slightest  alarm,  he  could  spring 
up,  sword  in  hand.  His  broad  black  eyes,  in  which  sleep 
contended  with  a  desire  to  listen  to  the  music,  were  fixed  on 
Vidal,  who  saw  them  glittering  in  the  reflection  of  the  silver 
lamp,  like  those  of  a  dragon  or  basilisk. 

After  a  few  preliminary  touches  on  the  chords  of  his  rote, 
the  minstrel  requested  of  the  Constable  to  name  the  subject 
on  which  he  desired  the  exercise  of  his  powers. 

"The  truth  of  w^oman,"  answered  Hugo  de  Lacy,  as  he 
laid  his  head  upon  his  pillow. 

After  a  short  prelude,  the  minstrel  obeyed,  by  singing 
nearly  as  follows  : — 

Woman's  faith  and  woman's  trust — 
Write  the  characters  in  dust, 
Stamp  them  on  the  running  stream, 
Print  them  on  the  moon's  pale  beam, 
And  each  evanescent  letter 
Shall  be  clearer,  firmer,  better, 
And  more  pei'manent,  I  ween, 
Than  the  thing  those  letters  mean. 

I  have  strain'd  the  spider's  thread 

'Gainst  the  promise  of  a  maid  ; 

I  have  weigh'd  a  grain  of  sand 

'Gainst  her  plight  of  heart  and  hand ; 

I  told  my  true  love  of  the  token. 

How  her  faith  proved  light,  and  her  word  was  broken : 

Again  her  word  and  truth  she  plight, 

And  I  believed  them  again  ere  night. 


THE  BETROTHED  18J 

''How  now,  sir  knave,"  said  the  Constable,  raising  him- 
self on  his  elbow — "  from  what  drunken  rhymer  did  you 
learn  that  half-witted  satire  ?  " 

"  From  an  old,  ragged,  cross-grained  friend  of  mine, 
called  experience,"  answered  Vidal.  "  I  pray  Heaven  he 
may  never  take  your  lordship,  or  any  other  worthy  man, 
under  his  tuition." 

''  Go  to,  fellow,"  said  the  Constable,  in  reply  ;  "thou  art 
one  of  those  wiseacres,  I  warrant  me,  that  would  fain  be 
thought  witty,  because  thou  canst  make  a  jest  of  those 
things  which  wiser  men  hold  worthy  of  most  worjhip — the 
honor  of  men  and  the  truth  of  women.  Dost  thou  call  thy- 
self a  minstrel,  and  hast  no  tale  of  female  fidelity  ?  " 

"  I  had  right  many  a  one,  noble  sir,  but  I  laid  them  aside 
when  I  disused  my  practice  of  the  jesting  part  of  the  joyous 
science.  Nevertheless,  if  it  pleases  your  nobleness  to  listen, 
I  can  sing  you  an  established  lay  upon  such  a  subject." 

De  Lacy  made  a  sign  of  acquiescence,  and  laid  himself  as 
if  to  slumber  ;  while  Vidal  began  one  of  those  interminable 
and  almost  innumerable  adventures  concerning  that  paragon 
of  true  lovers,  fair  Ysolte,  and  of  the  constant  and  uninter- 
rupted faith  and  affection  which  she  displayed,  in  numerous 
situations  of  difficulty  and  peril,  to  her  paramour,  the  gal- 
lant Sir  Tristrem,  at  the  expense  of  her  less  favored  hus- 
band, the  luckless  King  Mark  of  Cornwall,  to  whom,  as  all 
the  world  knows.  Sir  Tristrem  w^as  nephew. 

This  was  not  the  lay  of  love  and  fidelity  which  De  Lacy 
would  have  chosen  ;  but  a  feeling  like  shame  prevented  his 
interrupting  it,  perhaps  because  he  was  unwilling  to  yield  to 
or  acknowledge  the  unpleasing  sensations  excited  by  the 
tenor  of  the  tale.  He  soon  fell  asleep,  or  feigned  to  do  so  ; 
and  the  harper,  continuing  for  a  time  his  monotonous  chant, 
began  at  length  himself  to  feel  the  influence  of  slumber  : 
his  words,  and  notes  which  he  continued  to  touch  upon  the 
harp,  were  broken  and  interrupted,  and  seemed  to  escape 
drowsily  from  his  fingers  and  voice.  At  length  the  sounds 
ceased  entirely,  and  the  minstrel  seemed  to  have  sunk  into 
profound  repose,  with  his  head  reclining  on  his  breast,  and 
one  arm  dropped  down  by  his  side,  while  the  other  rested  on 
his  harp.  His  slumber,  however,  was  not  very  long,  and 
when  he  awoke  from  it,  and  cast  his  eyes  around  him,  re- 
connoitering,  by  the  light  of  the  night-lamp,  whatever  was 
in  the  tent,  he  felt  a  heavy  hand,  which  pressed  his  shoulder 
as  if  gently  to  solicit  his  attention.  At  the  same  time  the 
voice  of  the  vigilant  Philip  Guarine  whispered  in  his  ear. 


190  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

''  Thine  office  for  the  night  is  ended  ;  depart  to  thine  own 
quarters  with  all  the  silence  thon  mayst." 

The  minstrel  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak  without  reply, 
though  perhaps  not  without  feeling  some  resentment  at  a 
dismissal  so  uuceremonious. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

O  I  then  I  see  Queen  Mab  has  been  with  you. 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

The  su  jject  on  which  the  mind  has  last  been  engaged  at 
night  is  apt  to  occupy  our  thoughts  even  during  slumber,, 
when  imagination,  uncorrected  by  the  organs  of  sense, 
weaves  her  own  fantastic  web  out  of  wliatever  ideas  rise  at 
random  in  the  sleeper.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that 
De  Lacy  in  his  dreams  had  some  confused  idea  of  being 
identified  with  the  unlucky  Mark  of  Cornwall ;  and  that  he 
awakened  from  such  unpleasant  visions  with  a  brow  more 
clouded  than  when  he  was  preparing  for  his  couch  on  the 
evening  before.  He  was  silent,  and  seemed  lost  in  thought, 
■  while  his  squire  assisted  at  his  levee  with  the  respect  now 
only  paid  to  sovereigns.  *'  Guarine,^^  at  length  he  said, 
"  know  you  the  stout  Fleming,  who  was  said  to  have  borne 
him  so  well  at  the  seige  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse — a  tall, 
big,  brawny  man  ?" 

"Surely,  my  lord,"  answered  his  squire,  "1  know  Wilkin 
Flammock  ;  I  saw  him  but  yesterday. 

''  Indeed  ! "  replied  the  Constable.  "  Here,  meanest  thou 
— in  this  city  of  Gloucester  ?" 

"Assuredly,  my  good  lord.  He  came  hither  partly  about 
his  merchandise,  partly,  I  think,  to  see  his  daughter  Rose, 
who  is  in  attendance  on  the  gracious  young  Lady  Eveline." 

"  He  is  a  stout  soldier,  is  he  not  ?" 

"Like  most  of  his  kind — a  rampart  to  a  castle,  but  rub- 
bish in  the  field,"  said  the  Norman  squire. 

"Faithful,  also,  is  he  not  ?"  continued  the  Constable. 

"  Faithful  as  most  Flemings,  while  you  can  pay  for  their 
faith,"  replied  Guarine,  wondering  a  little  at  the  unusual 
interest  taken  in  one  whom  he  esteemed  a  being  of  an  in- 
ferior order  ;  when,  after  some  farther  inquiries,  the  Con- 
stable ordered  the  Fleming^s  attendance  to  be  presently 
commanded. 

Other  business  of  the  morning  now  occurred,  for  his 
speedy  departure  required  many  arrangements  to  be  hastily 
adopted,  when,  as  the  Constable  was  giving  audience  to 
191 


192  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

several  officers  of  his  troops,  the  bulky  figure  of  Wilkin 
Flammock  was  seen  at  the  entrance  of  the  pavilion,  in 
jerkin  of  white  cloth,  and  having  only  a  knife  by  his  side 

"  Leave  the  tent,  my  masters,"  said  De  Lacy,  "  but  con- 
tinue in  attendance  in  the  neighborhood  ;  for  here  comes 
one  I  must  speak  to  in  private." 

The  officers  withdrew,  and  the  Constable  and  Fleming 
were  left  alone.  "  You  are  Wilkin  Flammock,  who  fought 
well  against  the  Welsh  at  the  Garde  Doloureuse  ?  " 

"J  did  my  best,  my  lord,"  answered  Wilkin;  "I  was 
bound  to  it  by  my  bargain,  and  I  hope  ever  to  act  like  a 
man  of  credit." 

"'Methinks,"  said  the  Constable,  "that  you,  so  stout  of 
limb,  and,  as  I  hear,  so  bold  in  spirit,  might  look  a  little 
higher  than  this  weaving  trade  of  thine." 

"No  one  is  reluctant  to  mend  hie  station,  my  lord,"  said 
Wilkin  ;  "yet  am  I  so  far  from  comiolaining^of  mine,  that  I 
would  willingly  consent  it  should  never  be  better,  on  con- 
dition I  could  be  assured  it  were  never  worse." 

"Nay,  but,  Flammock,"  said  the  Constable,  "I  mean 
higher  things  for  you  than  your  modesty  apprehends  :  I 
mean  to  leave  thee  in  a  charge  of  great  trust." 

"Let  it  concern  bales  of  drapery,  my  lord,  and  no  one 
will  perform  it  better,"  said  the  Fleming. 

"  Away  !  thou  art  too  lowly-minded,"  said  the  Constable. 
"  What  think'st  thou  of  being  dubbed  knight,  as  thy  valor 
well  deserves,  and  left  as  chatelaine  of  the  Garde  Dolour- 
euse ?  " 

"  For  the  knighthood,  my  lord,  I  should  crave  your  for- 
giveness ;  for  it  would  sit  on  me  like  a  gilded  helmet  on  a 
hog.  For  any  charge,  whether  of  castle  or  cottage,  I  trust 
I  might  discharge  it  as  well  as  another." 

"I  fear  me  thy  rank  must  be  in  some  way  mended,"  said 
the  Constable,  surveying  the  unmilitary  dress  of  the  figure 
before  him  ;  "  it  is  at  present  too  mean  "to  befit  the  protector 
and  guardian  of  a  young  lady  of  high  birth  and  rank." 

"I  the  guardian  of  a  young  lady  of  birth  and  rank!" 
said  Flammock,  his  light,  large  eyes" turning  larger,  lighter, 
and  rounder  as  he  spoke. 

"Even  thou,"  said  the  Constable.  "The  Lady  Eveline 
proposes  to  take  up  her  residence  in  her  castle  of  the  Garde 
Doloureuse.  I  have  been  casting  about  to  whom  I  may 
entrust  the  keeping  of  her  person,  as  well  as  of  the  strong- 
hold. Were  I  to  choose  some  knight  of  name,  as  I  have 
many  in  my   household,  he  would  be  setting  about   to  do 


THE  BETROTHED  198 

deeds  of  vassalage  upon  the  Welsli,  and  engaging  himself  in 
turmoils,  which  would  render  the  safety  of  the  castle  pre- 
carious ;  or  he  would  be  absent  on  feats  of  chivalry,  tour- 
naments, and  hunting-parties ;  or  he  would,  perchance, 
have  shows  of  that  light  nature  under  the  walls,  or  even 
within  the  courts  of  the  castle,  turning  the  secluded  and 
quiet  abode  which  becomes  the  situation  of  the  Lady  Eve- 
line into  the  misrule  of  a  dissolute  revel.  Thee  I  can  con- 
fide in  :  thou  wilt  fight  when  it  is  requisite,  yet  wilt  not 
provoke  danger  for  the  sake  of  danger  itself  ;  thy  birth,  thy 
habits  will  lead  thee  to  avoid  those  gaieties,  which,  however 
fascinating  to  others,  cannot  but  be  distasteful  to  thee  ;  thy 
management  will  be  as  regular  as  I  will  take  care  that  it 
shall  be  honorable ;  and  thy  relation  to  her  favorite.  Rose, 
will  render  thy  guardianship  more  agreeable  to  the  Lady 
Eveline  than,  perchance,  one  of  her  own  rank.  And,  to 
speak  to  thee  a  language  which  thy  nation  readily  compre- 
hends, the  reward,  Fleming,  for  the  regular  discharge  of 
this  most  weighty  trust  shall  be  beyond  thy  most  flattering 
hope." 

The  Fleming  had  listened  to  the  first  part  of  this  dis- 
course with  an  expression  of  surprise,  which  gradually  gave 
way  to  one  of  deep  and  anxious  reflection.  He  gazed  fix- 
edly on  the  earth  for  a  minute  after  the  Constable  had 
ceased  speaking,  and  then  raising  up  his  eyes  suddenly,  said, 
**  It  is  needless  to  seek  for  roundabout  excuses.  This  can- 
not be  your  earnest,  my  lord ;  but  if  it  is,  the  scheme  is 
naught." 

"How  and  wherefore  ? "  asked  the  Constable,  with  dis- 
pleased surprise. 

"  Another  man  might  grasp  at  your  bounty,"  continued 
Wilkin,  ''and  leave  you  to  take  chance  of  the  value  you 
were  to  receive  for  it ;  but  I  am  a  downright  dealer,  I  will 
not  take  payment  for  service  I  cannot  render." 

''  But  I  demand,  once  more,  wherefore  thou  canst  not,  or 
rather  wilt  not,  accept  this  trust  ?"  said  the  Constable. 
*'  Surely,  if  I  am  willing  to  confer  such  confidence,  it  is  well 
thy  part  to  answer  it.*' 

"  True,  my  lord,"  said  the  Fleming  ;  ''but  methinks  the 
noble  Lord  de  Lacy  should  feel,  and  the  wise  Lord  de  Lacy 
should  foresee,  tliat  a  Flemish  weaver  is  no  fitting  guardian 
for  his  plighted  bride.  Think  her  shut  up  in  yonder  solitary 
castle,  under  such  respectable  protection,  and  reflect  how 
long  the  place  will  be  solitary  in  this  land  of  love  and 
adventure  !  We  shall  have  minstrels  singing  ballads  by  the 
13 


194  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

threave  under  our  windows,  and  such  twangling  of  harps 
as  would  be  enough  to  frighten  our  walls  from  their  foun- 
dations, as  clerks  say  happened  to  those  of  Jericho.  We 
shall  have  as  many  knights-errant  around  us  as  ever  had 
Charlemagne  or  King  Arthur.  Mercy  on  me !  A  less 
matter  than  a  fine  and  noble  recluse  immured — so  will  they 
term  it — in  a  tower,  under  the  guardianship  of  an  old 
Flemish  weaver,  would  bring  half  the  chivalry  in  England 
round  us,  to  break  lances,  vow  vows,  display  love-liveries, 
and  I  know  not  what  follies  besides.  Think  you  such  gal- 
lants, with  the  blood  flying  through  their  veins  like  quick- 
silver, would  much  mind  my  bidding  them  begone  ?  " 

"  Draw  bolts,  up  with  the  drawbridge,  drop  portcullis,*' 
said  the  Constable,  with  a  constrained  smile. 

"  And  thinks  your  lordship  such  gallants  would  mind 
these  impediments  ?  such  are  the  very  essence  of  the  ad- 
ventures which  they  come  to  seek.  The  Knight  of  the 
Swan  would  swim  through  the  moat ;  he  of  the  Eagle  would 
fly  over  the  walls  ;  he  of  the  Thunderbolt  would  burst  open 
the  gates.'' 

"  Ply  cross-bow  and  mangonel,"  said  De  Lacy. 

"  And  be  besieged  in  form,"  said  the  Fleming,  "  like  the 
Castle  of  Tintadgel  in  the  old  hangings,  all  for  the  love  of 
fair  lady  ?  And  then  those  gay  dames  and  demoiselles,  who 
go  upon  adventure  from  castle  to  castle,  from  tournament 
to  tournament,  with  bare  bosoms,  flaunting  plumes,  j^oniards 
at  their  sides  and  javelins  in  their  hands,  chattering  like 
magpies,  and  fluttering  like  jays,  and  ever  and  anon  cooing 
like  doves — how  am  I  to  exclude  such  from  the  Lady  Eve- 
line's privacy  ?  " 

"  By  keeping  doors  shuts,  I  tell  thee,"  answered  the  Con- 
stable, still  in  the  same  tone  of  forced  jocularity  :  "a wooden 
bar  will  be  thy  warrant." 

"  Ay,  but,"  answered  Flammock,  "if  the  Flemish  weaver 
say  '  shut,'  when  the  Norman  young  lady  says  '  open,'  think 
which  has  best  chance  of  being  obeyed  ?  At  a  word,  my 
lord,  for  the  matter  of  guardianship  and  such-like,  I  wash 
my  hands  of  it :  I  would  not  undertake  to  be  guardian  to  the 
chaste  Susannah,  though  she  lived  in  an  enchanted  castle 
which  no  living  thing  could  approach." 

"  Thou  boldest  the  language  and  thoughts,"  said  De  Lacy, 
"  of  a  vulgar  debauchee,  who  laughs  at  female  constancy, 
because  he  has  lived  only  with  the  most  worthless  of  the 
sex.  Yet  thou  shouldst  know  the  contrary,  having,  as  I 
know,  a  most  virtuous  daughter " 


THE  BETROTHED  195 

"  Whose  mother  was  not  less  so/'  said  Wilkin,  breaking 
in  upon  the  Constable's  speech  with  somewhat  more  emotion 
than  he  usually  displayed.  "  But  law,  my  lord,  gave  me 
authority  to  govern  and  direct  my  wife,  as  both  law  and 
nature  give  me  power  and  charge  over  my  daughter.  That 
which  1  can  govern,  I  can  be  answerable  for  ;  but  how  to 
discharge  me  so  well  of  a  delegated  trust  is  another  question. 
Stay  at  home,  my  good  lord,"  continued  the  honest  Fleming, 
observing  that  his  speech  made  some  impression  upon  De 
Lacy  :  "  let  a  fool's  advice  for  once  be  of  avail  to  change  a 
wise  man's  purpose,  taken,  let  me  say,  in  no  wise  hour. 
Eemain  in  your  own  land,  rule  your  own  vassals,  anu  protect 
your  own  bride.  You  only  can  claim  her  cheerful  love  and 
ready  obedience  ;  and  sure  I  am  that,  without  pretending 
to  guess  what  she  may  do  if  separated  from  you,  she  will, 
under  your  own  eye,  do  the  duty  of  a  faithful  and  a  loving 
spouse." 

_  "And  the  Holy  Sepulcher  ?"  said  the  Constable,  with  a 
sigh,  his  heart  confessing  the  wisdom  of  the  advice,  which 
circumstances  prevented  him  from  following. 

"Let  those  who  lost  the  Holy  Sepulcher  regain  it,  my 
lord,"  replied  Flammock.  "  If  those  Latins  and  Greeks,  as 
they  call  them,  are  no  better  men  than  I  have  heard,  it  sig- 
nifies very  little  whether  they  or  the  heathen  have  the  coun- 
try that  has  cost  Europe  so  much  blood  and  treasure." 

'•In  good  faith,"  said  the  Constable,  "there  is  sense  in 
what  thou  sayest ;  but  I  caution  thee  to  repeat  it  not,  lest 
thou  be  taken  for  a  heretic  or  a  Jew.  For  me,  my  word  and 
oath  are  pledged  beyond  retreat,  and  I  have  only  to  consider 
whom  I  may  best  name  for  that  important  station,  which 
thy  caution  has — not  without  some  shadow  of  reason — in- 
duced thee  to  decline." 

"There  is  no  man  to  whom  your  lordship  can  so  naturally 
or  honorably  transfer  such  a  charge,"  said  Wilkin  Flammock, 
"  as  to  the  kinsman  near  to  you,  and  possessed  of  your  trust ; 
yet  much  better  would  it  be  were  there  no  such  trust  to  be 
reposed  in  any  one." 

"If,"  said  the  Constable,  "by  my  near  kinsman  you  mean 
Randal  de  Lacy,  I  care  not  if  I  tell  you  that  I  consider  him 
as  totally  worthless,  and  undeserving  of  honorable  confi- 
dence." 

"Nay,  I  mean  another,"  said  Flammock,  "nearer  to  you 
by  blood,  and,  unless  I  greatly  mistake,  much  nigher  also  in 
affection ;  I  had  in  mind  your  lordship's  nephew,  Damian 
de  Lacy/' 


166  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  Constable  started  as  if  a  wasp  had  stung  him  ;  but 
instantly  replied,  with  forced  composure,  "  Damian  was  to 
have  gone  in  my  stead  to  Palestine,  it  now  seems  I  must  go 
in  his  ;  for,  since  this  last  illness,  the  leeches  have  totally 
changed  their  minds,  and  consider  that  warmth  of  the  cli- 
mate as  dangerous  which  they  formerly  decided  to  be  salutary. 
But  our  learned  doctors,  like  our  learned  priests,  must  ever 
be  in  the  right,  change  their  counsels  as  they  may,  and  we 
poor  laymen  still  in  the  wrong.  I  can,  it  is  true,  rely  on 
Damian  with  the  utmost  confidence  ;  but  he  is  young,  Flam- 
mocJi — very  young — and,  in  that  particular,  resembles  but 
too  nearly  the  party  who  might  be  otherwise  committed  to 
his  charge." 

"  Then,  once  more,  my  lord,"  said  the  plain-spoken  Flem- 
ing, "  remain  at  home,  and  be  yourself  the  protector  of 
what  is  naturally  so  dear  to  you." 

"  Once  more,  I  repeat  that  I  cannot,"  answered  the  Con- 
stable. "  The  step  which  I  have  adopted  as  a  great  duty 
may  perhaps  be  a  great  error,  I  only  know  that  it  is 
irretrievable." 

"  Trust  your  nephew,  then,  my  lord,"  replied  "Wilkin  ; 
"  he  is  honest  and  true,  and  it  is  better  trusting  young  lions 
than  old  wolves.  He  may  err,  perhaps,  but  it  will  not  be 
from  premeditated  treachery." 

"  Thou  art  right,  Flammock,"  said  the  Constable  ;  "  and 
perhaps  I  ought  to  wish  I  had  sooner  asked  thy  counsel, 
blunt  as  it  is.  But  let  what  has  passed  be  a  secret  betwixt 
us  ;  and  bethink  thee  of  something  that  may  advantage  thee 
more  than  the  privilege  of  speaking  about  my  affairs." 

"■  That  account  will  be  easily  settled,  my  lord,"  replied 
Flammock  ;  "for  my  object  was  to  ask  your  lordship's  favor 
to  obtain  certain  extensions  of  our  privileges  in  yonder  wild 
corner  where  we  Flemings  have  made  our  retreat." 

''Thou  shalt  have  them,  so  they  be  not  exorbitant,"  said 
the  Constable.  And  the  honest  Fleming,  among  whose 
good  qualities  scrupulous  delicacy  was  not  the  foremost, 
hastened  to  detail,  with  great  minuteness,  the  particulars  of 
his  request  or  petition,  long  pursued  in  vain,  but  to  which 
this  interview  was  the  means  of  ensuring  success. 

The  Constable,  eager  .to  execute  the  resolution  which  he 
had  formed,  hastened  to  the  lodging  of  Damian  de  Lacy, 
and,  to  the  no  small  astonishment  of  his  nephew,  intimated 
to  him  his  change  of  destination,  alleging  his  own  hurried 
departure,  Damiau's  late  and  present  illness,  together  with 
the  necessary  protection  to  be  afforded  to  the  Lady  Eveline, 


TEE  BETROTHED  191 

as  reasons  why  his  nephew  must  needs  remain  behind  him — 
to  represent  him  during  his  absence,  to  protect  the  family 
rights  and  assert  the  family  honor  of  the  house  of  De  Lacy, 
above  all,  to  act  as  the  guardian  of  the  young  and  beautiful 
bride  whom  liis  uncle  and  patron  had  been  in  some  measure 
compelled  to  abandon  for  a  time. 

Damian  yet  occupied  his  bed  while  the  Constable  com- 
municated this  change  of  purpose.  Perhaps  he  might  think 
the  circumstance  fortunate,  that  in  this  position  he  could 
conceal  from  his  uncle's  observation  the  various  emotions 
which  he  could  not  help  feeling  ;  while  the  Constable,  with 
the  eagerness  of  one  who  is  desirous  of  hastily  finishing 
what  he  has  to  say  on  an  unpleasing  subject,  hurried  over 
an  account  of  the  arrangements  which  he  had  made,  in  order 
that  his  nephew  might  have  the  means  of  discharging,  with 
sufficient  effect,  the  important  trust  committed  to  him. 

The  youth  listened  as  to  a  voice  in  a  dream,  which  he  had 
not  the  power  of  interrupting,  though  there  was  something 
within  him  which  whispered  there  would  be  both  prudence 
and  integrity  in  remonstrating  against  his  uncle's  alteration 
of  plan.  Something  he  accordingly  attemjited  to  say,  when 
the  Constable  at  length  paused  ;  but  it  was  too  feebly  spoken 
to  shake  a  resolution  fully  though  hastily  adopted,  and  ex- 
plicitly announced,  by  one  not  in  the  use  to  speak  before  his 
purpose  was  fixed,  or  to  alter  it  when  it  was  declared. 

The  remonstrance  of  Damian,  besides,  if  it  could  be  termed 
such,  was  spoken  in  terms  too  contradictory  to  be  intelligi- 
ble. In  one  moment  he  professed  his  regret  for  the  laurels 
which  he  had  hoped  to  gather  in  Palestine,  and  implored  his 
uncle  not  to  alter  his  purpose,  but  permit  him  to  attend  his 
banner  thither  ;  and  in  the  next  sentence  he  professed  his 
readiness  to  defend  the  safety  of  Lady  Eveline  with  the  last 
drop  of  his  blood.  De  Lacy  saw  nothing  inconsistent  in 
these  feelings,  though  they  were  for  the  moment  contra- 
dictory to  each  other.  It  was  natural,  he  thought,  that  a 
young  knight  should  be  desirous  to  win  honor — natural  also 
that  he  should  willingly  assume  a  charge  so  honorable  and 
important  as  that  with  which  he  proposed  to  invest  him  ; 
and  therefore  he  thought  it  was  no  wonder  that,  assuming 
his  new  office  willingly,  the  young  man  should  yet  feel  regret 
at  losing  the  prospect  of  honorable  adventure,  which  he 
must  abandon.  He  therefore  only  smiled  in  reply  to  the 
broken  expostulations  of  his  nephew  ;  and,  having  confirmed 
his  former  arrangement,  left  the  young  man  to  reflect  at 
leisure  on  his  change  of  destination,  while  he  himself,  in  a 


198  WAVE  RLE  r  NOVELS 

second  visit  to  the  Benedictine  abbey,  communicated  the 
purpose  which  he  had  adopted  to  the  abbess  and  to  his  bride- 
elect. 

The  displeasure  of  the  former  lady  was  in  no  measure 
abated  by  this  communication,  in  which,  indeed,  she  affected 
to  take  very  little  interest.  She  pleaded  her  religious  duties, 
and  her  Avant  of  knowledge  of  secular  affairs,  if  she  should 
chance  to  mistake  the  usages  of  the  world  ;  yet  she  had 
always,  she  said,  understood  that  the  guardians  of  the  young 
and  beautiful  of  her  own  sex  were  chosen  from  the  more 
mature  of  the  other. 

"Your  own  unkindness,  lady,"  answered  the  Constable, 
**  leaves  me  no  better  choice  than  I  have  made.  Since  the 
Lady  Eveline's  nearest  friends  deny  her  the  privilege  of 
their  roof,  on  account  of  the  claim  with  which  she  has  hon- 
ored me,  I,  on  my  side,  were  worse  than  ungrateful  did  I 
not  secure  for  her  the  protection  of  my  nearest  male  heir. 
Damian  is  young,  but  he  is  true  and  honorable  ;  nor  does 
the  chivalry  of  Eugland  afford  me  a  better  choice." 

Eveline  seemed  surprised,  and  even  struck  with  consterna- 
tion, at  the  resolution  which  her  bridegroom  thus  suddenly 
announced  ;  and  perhaps  it  was  fortunate  that  the  remark 
of  the  lady  abbess  made  the  answer  of  the  Constable  necessary, 
and  prevented  him  from  observing  that  her  color  shifted 
more  than  once  from  pale  to  deep  red. 

Eose,  who  was  not  excluded  from  the  conference,  drew 
close  up  to  her  mistress ;  and,  by  affecting  to  adjust  her 
veil,  while  in  secret  she  strongly  pressed  her  hand,  gave  her 
time  and  encouragement  to  compose  her  mind  for  a  reply. 
It  was  brief  and  decisive,  and  announced  with  a  firmness 
which  showed  that  the  uncertainty  of  the  moment  had 
passed  away  or  been  suppressed.  "  In  case  of  danger,"  she 
said,  "she  would  not  fail  to  apply  to  Damian  De  Lacy  to 
come  to  her  aid,  as  he  had  once  done  before  ;  but  she  did 
not  apprehend  any  danger  at  present  within  her  own  secure 
castle  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  where  it  was  her  purpose  to 
dwell,  attended  only  by  her  own  household.  She  was  re- 
solved," she  continued,  "in  consideration  of  her  peculiar 
condition,  to  observe  the  strictest  retirement,  which  she  ex- 
pected would  not  be  violated  even  by  the  noble  young  knight 
who  was  to  act  as  her  guardian,  unless  some  apprehension 
for  her  safety  made  his  visit  unavoidable." 

The  abbess  acquiesced,  though  coldly,  in  a  proposal  which 
her  ideas  of  decorum  recommended  ;  and  preparations  were 
hastily  made  for  the  Lady  Eveline's  return  to  the  castle  of 


THE  SETBOTHED  199 

her  father.  Two  interviews  which  intervened  before  her 
leaving  the  convent  were  in  their  nature  painful.  The  first 
was  when  Damian  was  formally  presented  to  her  by  his 
uncle,  as  the  delegate  to  whom  he  had  committed  the  charge 
of  his  own  property,  and,  which  was  much  dearer  to  him,  as 
he  affirmed,  the  protection  of  her  person  and  interest. 

Eveline  scarce  trusted  herself  with  one  glance  ;  but  that 
single  look  comprehended  and  reported  to  her  the  ravage 
which  disease,  aided  by  secret  grief,  had  made  on  the  manly 
form  and  handsome  countenance  of  the  youth  beforo  her. 
She  received  his  salutation  in  a  manner  as  embari-assed  as 
that  in  which  it  was  made  ;  and,  to  his  hesitating  proffer  of 
service,  answered,  that "  She  trusted  only  to  be  obliged  to  him 
for  his  good- will  during  the  interval  of  his  uncle's  absence." 

Her  parting  with  the  Constable  was  the  next  trial  which  she 
was  to  undergo.  It  was  not  without  emotion,  although  she 
preserved  her  modest  composure,  and  De  Lacy  his  calm 
gravity  of  deportment.  His  voice  faltered,  however,  when 
he  came  to  announce,  that  "  It  were  unjust  she  should  be 
bound  by  the  engagement  which  she  had  been  graciously 
contented  to  abide  under.  Three  years  he  had  assigned  for 
its  term,  to  which  space  the  Archbishop  Baldwin  had  con- 
sented to  shorten  tbe  period  of  liis  absence.  "  If  I  appear  noi 
when  these  are  elapsed,"  he  said,  "let  the  Lady  Eveline 
conclude  that  the  grave  holds  De  Lacy,  and  seek  out  for  her 
mate  some  happier  man.  She  cannot  find  one  more  grateful, 
though  there  are  many  who  better  deserve  her." 

On  these  terms  they  parted  ;  and  the  Constable,  speedily 
afterwards  embarking,  plowed  the  narrow  seas  for  the 
shores  of  Flanders,  where  he  proposed  to  unite  his  forces 
with  the  count  of  that  rich  and  warlike  country,  who  had 
lately  taken  the  cross,  and  to  proceed  by  the  route  which 
should  be  found  most  practicable  on  their  destination  for  the 
Holy  Land.  The  broad  pennon,  with  the  arms  of  the 
Lacys,  streamed  forward  with  a  favorable  wind  from  the 
prow  of  the  vessel,  as  if  pointing  to  the  quarter  of  the  hor- 
izon where  its  renown  was  to  be  augmented  ;  and,  consider- 
ing the  fame  of  the  leader,  and  the  excellence  of  the  soldiers 
who  followed  him,  a  more  gallant  band,  in  proportion  to 
their  numbers,  never  went  to  avenge  on  the  Saranens  the 
evils  endured  by  the  Latins  of  Palestine. 

Meanwhile  Eveline,  after  a  cold  parting  with  the  abbess, 
whose  offended  dignity  had  not  yet  forgiven  the  slight 
regard  which  she  had  paid  to  her  opinion,  resumed  her 
journey  homeward  to  her  paternal  castle,  where  her  house- 


200  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

hold  was  to  be  arranged  in  a  manner  suggested  by  the  Con- 
stable, and  approved  of  by  herself. 

The  same  preparations  were  made  for  her  accommodation 
at  every  halting-place  which  she  had  experienced  upon  her 
journey  to  Gloucester,  and,  as  before,  the  purveyor  was  in- 
visible, although  she  could  be  at  little  loss  to  guess  his  name. 
Yet  it  appeared  as  if  the  character  of  these  preparations  was 
in  some  degree  altered.  All  the  realities  of  convenience  and 
accommodation,  with  the  most  perfect  assurances  of  safety, 
accompanied  her  everywhere  on  the  route  ;  but  they  were  no 
longer  mingled  with  that  display  of  tender  gallantry  and 
taste  which  marked  that  the  attentions  were  paid  to  a  young 
and  beautiful  female.  The  clearest  fountain-head  and  the 
most  shady  grove  were  no  longer  selected  for  the  noontide 
repast ;  but'the  house  of  some  franklin,  or  a  small  abbey, 
afforded  the  necessary  hospitality.  All  seemed  to  be  ordered 
with  the  most  severe  attention  to  rank  and  decorum  :  it 
seemed  as  if  a  nun  of  some  strict  order,  rather  than  a  young 
maiden  of  high  quality  and  a  rich  inheritance,  had  been 
journeying  through  the  land  ;  and  Eveline,  though  pleased 
with  the  delicacy  which  seemed  thus  to  respect  her  unpro- 
tected and  peculiar  condition,  would  sometimes  think  it  un- 
necessary that,  by  so  many  indirect  hints,  it  should  be  forced 
on  her  recollection. 

She  thought  it  strange,  also,  that  Damian,  to  Avhose  care 
she  had  been  so  solemnly  committed,  did  not  even  pay  his 
respects  to  her  on  the  road.  Something  there  was  which 
whispered  to  her  that  close  and  frequent  intercourse  might 
be  unbecoming,  even  dangerous  ;  but  surely  the  ordinary 
duties  of  a  knight  and  gentleman  enjoined  him  some  personal 
communication  with  the  maiden  under  his  escort,  were  it 
only  to  ask  if  her  accommodations  had  been  made  to  her 
satisfaction,  or  if  she  had  any  special  wish  which  was  un- 
gratified.  The  only  intercourse,  however,  which  took  place 
betwixt  them  was  through  means  of  Amelot,  Damian  de 
Lacy's  youthful  page,  who  came  at  morn  and  evening  to 
receive  Eveline's  commands  concerning  their  route  and  the 
hours  of  journev  and  repose. 

These  formalities  rendered  the  solitude  of  Eveline's  return 
less  endurable  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  society  of  Rose, 
she  would  have  found  herself  under  an  intolerably  irksome 
degree  of  constraint.  She  even  hazarded  to  her  attendant 
some  remarks  upon  the  singularity  of  De  Lacy's  conduct, 
who,  authorized  as  he  was  by  his  situation,  seemed  yet  as 
much  afraid  to  approach  her  as  if  she  had  been  a  basilisk. 


THE  BETROTHED  201 

Rose  let  the  first  observation  of  his  nature  pass  as  if  it  had 
been  unheard  ;  but  when  her  mistress  made  a  second  remark 
to  the  same  purpose,  she  answered,  with  the  truth  and  free- 
dom of  her  character,  though  perhaps  with  less  of  her  usual 
prudence,  *■'  Damian  de  Lacy  judges  well,  noble  lady.  He  to 
whom  the  safe  keeping  of  a  royal  treasure  is  entrusted  should 
not  indulge  himself  too  often  by  gazing  upon  it." 

Eveline  blushed,  wrapped  herself  closer  in  her  veil,  nor  did 
she  again  during  their  journey  mention  the  name  of  Damian 
de  Lacy. 

When  the  gray  turrets  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  greeted  her 
sight  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  and  she  once  more 
belield  her  fatlier's  banner  floating  from  its  highest  watch- 
tower  in  honor  of  her  ajippoach,  her  sensations  were  mingled 
with  pain  ;  but,  upon  the  whole,  she  looked  towards  that 
ancient  home  as  a  place  of  refuge,  where  she  might  indulge 
the  new  train  of  thoughts  which  circumstances  had  opened 
to  her,  amid  the  same  scenes  which  had  sheltered  her  infancy 
and  childhood. 

She  pressed  forward  her  palfrey,  to  reach  the  ancient  por- 
tal as  soon  as  possible,  bowed  hastily  to  the  well-known  faces 
which  showed  themselves  on  all  sides,  but  spoke  to  no  one, 
until,  dismounting  at  the  chapel  door,  she  had  penetrated  to 
the  crypt,  in  which  Avas  preserved  the  miraculous  painting. 
There,  prostrate  on  the  ground,  she  implored  the  guidance 
and  protection  of  the  Holy  Virgin  through  those  intricacies 
in  which  she  had  involved  herself,  by  the  fulfilment  of  the 
vow  which  she  had  made  in  her  anguish  before  the  same 
shrine.  If  the  prayer  was  misdirected,  its  purjjort  was  virtu- 
ous and  sincere  ;  nor  are  we  disposed  to  doubt  that  it  attained 
fchat  Heaven  towards  which  it  was  devoutly  addressed. 


OHAPTEK  XXII 

The  Virgin's  image  falls  ;  yet  some,  I  ween, 
Not  unforgiven  the  suppliant  knee  might  bend, 
As  to  a  visible  power,  in  which  miglit  blend 
All  that  was  mix'd,  and  reconciled  in  her, 
Of  mother's  love  with  maiden's  purity, 
Of  high  with  low,  celestial  with  terrene. 

Wordsworth. 

The  household  of  the  Lady  Eveline,  though  of  an  establish- 
ment  becoming  her  present  and  future  rank,  was  of  a  solemn 
and  sequestered  character,  corresponding  to  her  place  of  resi- 
dence, and  the  privacy  connected  with  her  situation,  retired 
as  she  was  from  the  class  of  maidens  who  are  yet  unengaged, 
and  yet  not  united  with  that  of  matrons,  Avho  enjoyed  the 
protection  of  a  married  name.  Her  immediate  female  at- 
tendants, with  whom  the  reader  is  already  acquainted,  consti- 
tuted almost  her  whole  society.  The  garrison  of  the  castle, 
besides  household  servants,  consisted  of  veterans  of  tried 
faith,  the  followers  of  Berenger  and  of  De  Lacy  in  many  a 
bloody  field,  to  whom  the  duties  of  watching  and  warding 
were  as  familiar  as  any  of  their  more  ordinary  occupations, 
and  whose  courage,  nevertheless,  tempered  by  age  and  expe- 
rience, was  not  likely  to  engage  in  any  rash  adventure  or  ac- 
cidental quarrel.  These  men  maintained  a  constant  and 
watchful  guard,  commanded  by  the  steward,  but  under  the 
eye  of  Father  Aldrovand,  who,  besides  discharging  his  eccle- 
siastical functions,  was  at  times  pleased  to  show  some 
sparkles  of  his  ancient  military  education. 

Whilst  this  garrison  afforded  security  against  any  sudden 
attempt  on  the  part  of  the  Welsh  to  surprise  the  castle,  a 
strong  body  of  forces  were  disposed  within  a  few  miles  of  the 
G-arde  Uoloureuse,  ready,  on  the  least  alarm,  to  advance  to 
defend  the  place  against  any  more  numerous  body  of  in- 
vaders, who,  undeterred  by  the  fate  of  Gwenwyn,  might  have 
the  hardihood  to  form  a  regular  siege.  To  this  band,  which, 
under  the  eye  of  Damian  de  Lacy  himself,  was  kept  in  con- 
stant readiness  for  action,  could  be  added  on  occasion  all  the 
military  force  of  the  marches,  comprising  numerous  bodies 
of  Flemings  and  other  foreigners,  who  held  their  establish- 
ments by  military  tenure. 

208 


THE  BETROTHED  203 

While  the  fortress  was  thus  secure  from  hostile  violence, 
the  life  of  its  inmates  was  so  unvaried  and  simple  as  might 
have  excused  youth  and  beauty  for  wishing  for  variety,  even 
at  the  expense  of  some  danger.  The  labors  of  the  needle 
were  only  relieved  by  a  walk  round  the  battlements,  where 
Eveline,  as  she  passed  arm  in  arm  with  Rose,  received  a  mili- 
tary salute  from  each  sentinel  in  turn,  or  in  the  courtyard, 
where  the  caps  and  bonnets  of  the  domestics  paid  her  the 
same  respect  which  she  received  above  from  the  pikes  and 
javelins  of  the  warders.  Did  they  wish  to  extend  their  airing 
beyond  the  castle  gate,  it  was  not  sufficient  that  dcors  and 
bridges  were  to  be  opened  and  lowered  ;  there  was,  besides, 
an  escort  to  get  under  arms,  who,  on  foot  or  horseback,  as  the 
case  might  require,  attended  for  the  security  of  the  Lady 
Eveline's  person.  Without  this  military  attendance  they 
could  not  in  safety  move  even  so  far  as  the  mills,  where  hon- 
est Wilkin  Flammock,  his  warlike  deeds  forgotten,  was  oc- 
cupied with  his  mechanical  labors.  But  if  a  further  disport 
was  intended,  and  the  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  pro- 
posed to  hunt  or  hawk  for  a  few  hours,  her  safety  was  not 
confided  to  a  guard  so  feeble  as  the  garrison  of  the  castle 
could  afford.  It  was  necessary  that  Raoul  should  announce 
her  purpose  to  Damian  by  a  special  messenger  despatched 
the  evening  before,  that  there  might  be  time  before  daybreak 
to  scour,  with  a  body  of  light  cavalry,  the  region  in  which 
she  intended  to  take  her  pleasure  ;  and  sentinels  were  placed 
in  all  suspicious  places  while  she  continued  in  the  field.  In 
truth,  she  tried,  upon  one  or  two  occasions,  to  make  an 
excursion  without  any  formal  annunciation  of  her  intention  ; 
but  all  her  purposes  seemed  to  be  known  to  Damian  as  soon 
as  they  were  formed,  and  she  was  no  sooner  abroad  than 
parties  of  archers  and  spearmen  from  his  camp  were  seen 
scouring  the  valleys  and  guarding  the  mountain-pass,  and 
Damian's  own  plume  was  usually  beheld  conspicuous  among 
the  distant  soldiers. 

The  formality  of  these  preparations  so  much  allayed  the 
pleasure  derived  from  the  sport,  that  Eveline  seldom  resorted 
to  amusement  which  was  attended  with  such  bustle,  and  pu^ 
in  motion  so  many  persons. 

The  day  being  worn  out  as  it  best  might,  in  the  evening 
Father  Aldrovaud  was  wont  to  read  out  of  some  holy  legend, 
or  from  the  homilies  of  some  departed  saint,  such  passages 
as  he  deemed  fit  for  the  hearing  of  his  little  congregation. 
Sometimes  also  he  read  and  expounded  a  chapter  of  the 
Holy  Scripture  ;  but  in  such  cases,  the  good  man's  attention 


204  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

was  so  strangely  turned  to  tlie  military  part  of  the  Jewish 
history,  that  he  was  never  able  to  quit  the  books  of  Judges 
and  of  Kings,  together  with  the  triunij^hs  of  Judas  Macca- 
bseus  ;  altliough  the  manner  in  which  he  illustrated  the  vic- 
tories of  the  children  of  Israel  was  much  more  amusing  to 
himself  than  edifying  to  his  female  audience. 

Sometimes,  but  rarely,  Rose  obtained  permission  for  a 
strolling  minstrel  to  entertain  an  hour  with  his  ditty  of  love 
and  chivalry  ;  sometimes  a  pilgrim  from  a  distant  shrine 
repaid  by  long  tales  of  the  wonders  which  he  had  seen  in 
other  lands  the  hospitality  which  the  Garde  Doloureuse 
afforded  ;  and  sometimes  also  it  happened  that  the  interest 
and  intercession  of  the  tiring-woman  obtained  admission  for 
traveling  merchants,  or  pedlers,  who,  at  the  risk  of  their 
lives,  found  profit  by  carrying  from  castle  to  castle  the  mate- 
rials of  rich  dresses  and  female  ornaments. 

The  usual  visits  of  mendicants,  of  jugglers,  of  traveling 
jesters,  are  not  to  be  forgotten  in  this  list  of  amusements  ; 
and  though  this  nation  subjected  him  to  close  watch  and  ob- 
servation, even  the  Welsh  bard,  with  his  huge  harp  strung 
with  horse-hair,  was  sometimes  admitted  to  vary  the  uniform- 
ity of  their  secluded  life.  But,  saving  such  amusements, 
and  saving  also  the  regular  attendance  upon  the  religious 
duties  at  the  chapel,  it  was  impossi'ble  for  life  to  glide  away 
in  more  wearisome  monotony  than  at  the  castle  of  the  Garde 
Doloureuse.  Since  the  death  of  its  brave  owner,  to  whom 
feasting  and  hospitality  seemed  as  natural  as  thoughts  of 
honor  and  deeds  of  chivalry,  the  gloom  of  a  convent  might 
be  said  to  have  enveloped  the  ancient  mansion  of  Eaymond 
Berenger,  were  it  not  that  the  presence  of  so  many  armed 
warders,  stalking  in  solemn  state  on  the  battlements,  gave 
it  rather  the  aspect  of  a  state-prison  ;  and  the  temper  of  the 
inhabitants  gradually  became  infected  by  the  chaiacter  of 
their  dwelling. 

The  spirits  of  Eveline  in  particular  felt  a  depression  which 
her  naturally  lively  temper  was  quite  inadequate  to  resist, 
and  as  her  ruminations  became  graver,  had  caught  that 
calm  and  contemplative  manner  which  is  so  often  united 
with  an  ardent  and  enthusiastical  temperament.  She  medi- 
tated deeply  upon  the  former  accidents  of  her  life  ;  nor  can 
it  be  wondered  that  her  thoughts  repeatedly  wandered  back 
to  the  two  several  periods  on  which  she  had  witnessed,  or 
supposed  that  she  had  witnessed,  a  supernatural  appearance. 
Then  it  was  that  it  often  seemed  to  her  as  if  a  good  and  evil 
power  strove  for  mastery  over  her  destiny. 


THE  BETROTHED  205 

Soltitude  is  favorable  to  feelings  of  self-importance  ;  and  it 
is  when  alone,  and  occupied  only  with  their  own  thoughts, 
that  fanatics  have  reveries,  and  imagined  saints  lose  them- 
selves in  imaginary  ecstacies.  With  Eveline  the  influence  of 
enthusiasm  went  not  such  a  length,  yet  it  seemed  to  her  as 
if  in  the  vision  of  the  night  she  saw  sometimes  the  aspect  of 
the  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  bending  upon  her  glances 
of  pity,  comfort  and  protection  ;  sometimes  the  ominous 
form  of  the  Saxon  castle  of  Baldringham,  holding  up  the 
bloody  hand  as  witness  of  the  injuries  with  which  she  had 
been  treated  while  in  life,  and  menacing  with  revenge  the 
descendant  of  her  murderer. 

On  awakening  from  such  dreams,  Eveline  would  reflect 
that  she  was  the  last  branch  of  her  house — a  house  to  which 
the  tutelage  and  protection  of  the  miraculous  image,  and  the 
enmity  and  evil  influence  of  the  revengeful  Vanda,  had  been 
peculiarly  attached  for  ages.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were 
the  prize  for  the  disposal  of  which  the  benign  saint  and  vin- 
dictive fiends  were  now  to  play  their  last  and  keenest  game. 

Thus  thinking,  and  experiencing  little  interruption  of  her 
meditations  from  any  external  circumstance  of  interest  and 
amusement,  she  became  pensive,  absent,  wrapped  herself  up 
in  contemplations  which  withdrew  her  attention  from  the 
conversations  around  her,  and  walked  in  the  world  of  reality 
like  one  who  is  still  in  a  dream.  When  she  thought  of  her 
engagement  with  the  Constable  of  Chester,  it  was  with  resig- 
nation, but  without  a  wish,  and  almost  without  an  expec- 
tation, that  she  would  be  called  upon  to  fulfil  it.  She  had 
accomplished  her  vow  by  accepting  the  faith  of  her  deliverer 
in  exchange  for  her  own  ;  and  although  she  held  herself 
willing  to  redeem  the  pledge — nay,  would  scarce  confess  to 
herself  the  reluctance  with  which  she  thought  of  doing  so — 
yet  it  is  certain  that  she  entertained  unavowed  hopes  that 
Our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  would  not  be  a  severe 
creditor  ;  but,  satisfied  with  the  readiness  she  had  shown  to 
aruomplish  her  vow,  would  not  insist  upon  her  claim  in  its 
full  rigor.  It  would  have  been  the  blackest  ingratitude  to 
j  have  wished  that  her  gallant  deliverer,  whom  she  had  so 
;much  cause  to  pray  for,  should  experience  any  of  those 
fatalities  which  in  the  Holy  Land  so  often  changed  the 
laurel  wreath  into  cypress  ;  but  other  accidents  chanced, 
when  men  had  been  long  abroad,  to  alter  those  purposes 
with  which  they  had  left  home. 

A  strolling  minstrel,  who  sought  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  had 
recited,  for  the  amusement  of  the  lady  and  household,  the 


206  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

celebrated  lay  of  the  Count  of  Gleichen,  who,  already  mar- 
ried in  his  own  country,  laid  himself  under  so  many  obliga- 
tions in  the  East  to  a  Saracen  princess,  througli  whose 
means  he  achieved  his  freedom,  that  he  married  her  also. 
The  Pope  and  his  conclave  were  pleased  to  approve  of  the 
double  wedlock  in  a  case  so  extraordinary  ;  and  the  good 
Count  of  Gleichen  shared  his  nuptial  bed  between  two  wives 
of  equal  rank,  and  now  sleeps  between  them  under  the  same 
monument. 

Tiie  commentai'ies  of  the  inmates  of  the  castle  had  been 
various  and  discrepant  upon  this  legend.  Father  Aldro- 
vand  considered  it  as  altogether  false,  and  an  unworthy 
calumny  on  the  head  of  the  church,  in  affirming  his  Holi- 
ness would  countenance  such  irregularity.  Old  Margery, 
with  the  tender-heartedness  of  an  ancient  nurse,  wept  bit- 
terly for  pity  during  tlie  tale,  and,  never  questioning  either 
the  power  of  the  Pope  or  the  propriety  of  his  decision,  was 
pleased  that  a  mode  of  extrication  was  found  for  a  compli- 
cation of  love  distresses  which  seemed  almost  inextricable. 
Dame  Gillian  declared  it  unreasonable  that,  since  a  woman 
was  only  allowed  one  husband,  a  man  should,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, be  permitted  to  have  two  wives  ;  whilst  Raoul, 
glancing  towards  her  a  look  of  verjuice,  pittied  the  deplor- 
able idiocy  of  the  man  who  could  be  fool  enough  to  avail 
himself  of  such  a  privilege. 

"  Peace,  all  the  rest  of  you,"  said  the  Lady  Eveline  ; 
''  and  do  you,  my  dear  Eose,  tell  me  your  judgment  upon 
this  Count  of  Gleichen  and  his  two  Avives." 

Eose  blushed,  and  replied,  "  She  was  not  much  accus- 
tomed to  think  of  such  matters  ;  but  that,  in  her  appre- 
hension, the  wife  who  could  be  contented  with  but  one  half 
of  her  husband's  affections  had  nevej  deserved  to  engage  the 
slightest  share  of  them." 

"Thou  art  partly  right,  Eose,"  said  Eveline  ;  ''and  me- 
thinks  the  European  lady,  when  she  found  herself  outshone 
by  the  young  and  beautiful  foreign  princess,  would  have 
best  consulted  her  own  dignity  in  resigning  the  place,  and 
giving  the  Holy  Father  no  more  trouble  than  in  annulling 
the  marriage,  as  has  been  done  in  cases  of  more  frequent 
occurrence." 

This  she  said  with  an  air  of  indifference,  and  even  gaiety, 
which  intimated  to  her  faithful  attendant  with  how  little 
effort  she  herself  could  have  made  such  a  sacrifice,  and 
served  to  indicate  the  state  of  her  affections  towards  the 
Constable.     But  there  was  another  than  the  Constable  on 


THE  BETROTHED  207 

whom  her  thoughts  turned  more  frequently,  though  invol- 
untarily, than  perhaijs  in  prudence  they  should  have  done. 
The  recollections  of  Damian  de  Lacy  had  not  been  erased 
from  Eveline's  mind.  They  were,  indeed,  renewed  by  hear- 
ing his  name  so  often  mentioned,  and  by  knowing  that  he 
was  almost  constantly  in  tho  neighborhood,  with  his  whole 
attention  fixed  upon  her  convenience,  interest,  and  safety  ; 
whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  so  far  from  waiting  on  her  in 
person,  he  never  even  attempted,  by  a  direct  communication 
witli  herself,  to  consult  her  pleasure,  even  upon  what  most 
concerned  her. 

The  messages^  conveyed  by  Father  Aldrovand  or  by  Eose 
to  Amelot,  Damian's  page,  while  they  gave  an  air  of  formal- 
ity to  their  intercourse  which  Eveline  thought  unnecessary, 
and  even  unkind,  yet  served  to  fix  her  attention  upon  the 
connection  between  them,  and  to  keep  it  ever  present  to  her 
memory.  The  remark  by  which  Rose  had  vindicated  the 
distance  observed  by  her  youthful  guardian  sometimes  arose 
to  her  recollection  ;  and  while  her  soul  repelled  with  scorn 
the  suspicion  that,  in  any  case,  his  presence,  whether  at 
intervals  or  constantly,  could  be  prejudicial  to  his  uncle's 
interest,  she  conjured  up  various  arguments  for  giving  him 
a  frequent  place  in  her  memory.  Was  it  not  her  duty  to 
think  of  Damian  often  and  kindly,  as  the  Constable's  near- 
est, best  beloved,  and  most  trusted  relative  ?  Was  he  not 
her  former  deliverer  and  her  present  guardian  ?  And 
might  he  not  be  considered  as  an  instrument  specially  em- 
ployed by  her  divine  patroness  in  rendering  effectual  the 
protection  with  which  she  had  graced  her  in  more  than  one 
emergency  ? 

Eveline's  mind  mutinied  against  the  restrictions  which 
were  laid  on  their  intercourse,  as  against  something  which 
inferred  suspicion  and  degradation,  like  the  compelled  se- 
clusion to  which  she  had  heard  the  paynim  infidels  of  the 
East  subjected  their  females.  Why  should  she  see  her 
guardian  only  in  the  benefits  which  he  conferred  upon  her  and 
the  cares  betook  for  her  safety,  and  hear  his  sentiments  only 
by  the  mouth  of  others,  as  if  one  of  them  had  been  infected 
with  the  plague,  or  some  other  fatal  or  infectious  disorder, 
which  might  render  their  meeting  dangerous  to  the  other  ? 
And  if  they  did  meet  occasionally,  what  else  could  be  the 
consequence,  save  that  the  care  of  a  brother  towards  a  sister, 
of  a  trusty  and  kind  guardian  to  the  betrothed  bride  of  his 
near  relative  and  honored  patron,  might  render  the  melan- 
choly seclusion  of  the  Garde  Doloreuse  more  easy  to  be  en- 


208  fVA  VERL EY  NOVELS 

dured  by  one  so  young  in  years,  and,  though  dejected  by 
present  circumstances,  naturally  so  gay  in  temper  ? 

Yet,  though  this  train  of  reasoning  appeared  to  Eveline, 
when  tracing  it  in  her  own  mind,  so  conclusive  that  she 
several  times  resolved  to  communicate  her  view  of  the  case 
to  Rose  Flammock,  it  so  chanced  that,  whenever  she  looked 
on  the  calm,  steady  blue  eye  of  the  Flemish  maiden,  and 
remembered  that  her  unblemished  faith  was  mixed  with  a 
sincerity  and  plain  dealing  proof  against  every  consideration, 
she  feared  lest  she  might  be  subjected  in  the  opinion  of  her 
attendant  to  suspicions  from  which  her  own  mind  freed  her  ; 
and  her  proud  Norman  spirit  revolted  at  the  idea  of  being 
obliged  to  justify  herself  to  another,  when  she  stood  self- 
acquitted  to  her  own  mind.  "  Let  things  be  as  they  are," 
she  said,  "  and  let  us  endure  all  the  weariness  of  a  life 
which  might  be  so  easily  rendered  more  cheerful,  rather 
than  that  this  zealous  but  punctilious  friend  should,  in  the 
strictness  and  nicety  of  her  feelings  on  my  account,  conceive 
me  capable  of  encouraging  an  intercourse  which  could  lead 
to  a  less  worthy  thought  of  me  in  the  mind  of  the  most 
scrupulous  of  man — or  of  womankind."  But  even  this  vacil- 
lation of  opinion  and  resolution  tended  to  bring  the  image 
of  the  handsome  young  Damian  more  frequently  before  the 
Lady  Eveline's  fancy  than  perhaps  his  uncle,  had  he  known 
it,  would  altogether  have  approved  of.  In  such  reflections, 
however,  she  never  indulged  long  ere  a  sense  of  the  singular 
destiny  which  had  hitherto  attended  her  led  her  back  into 
the  more  melancholy  contemplations  from  which  the  buoy- 
ancv  of  her  youthful  fancy  had  for  a  short  time  emanci- 
pated her. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Ours  is  the  skie, 
Where  at  what  fowl  we  please  our  hawk  shall  flie. 

Randolph. 

One  bright  September  morning,  old  Raoul  was  busy  in  the 
mews  where  he  kej^t  his  hawks,  grumbling  all  the  while  to 
himself  as  he  surveyed  the  condition  of  each  bird,  and  blam- 
ing alternately  the  carelessness  of  the  under-falconer,  and 
the  situation  of  the  building,  and  the  weather,  and  the  wind, 
and  all  things  around  him,  for  the  dilapidation  which  time 
and  disease  had  made  in  the  neglected  hawking  establish- 
ment of  the  Garde  Doloureuse.  While  in  these  unpleasing 
meditations,  he  was  surprised  by  the  voice  of  his  beloved 
Dame  Gillian,  who  seldom  was  an  early  riser,  and  yet  more 
rarely  visited  him  when  he  was  in  his  sphere  of  peculiar 
authority.  "  Eaoul — Raoul  !  where  art  thou,  man  ?  Ever 
to  seek  for,  when  thou  canst  make  aught  of  advantage  for 
thyself  or  me  ! " 

"And  what  want'st  thou,  dame  ^"  said  Raoul — "what 
means  thy  screaming  w^orse  than  the  sea-gull  before  wet 
weather  ?  A  murrain  on  thy  voice  !  it  is  enough  to  fray 
every  hawk  from  the  perch." 

"Hawk!"  answered  Dame  Gillian;  "it  is  time  to  be 
looking  for  hawks,  when  here  is  a  cast  of  the  bravest  falcons 
come  hither  for  sale  that  ever  flew  by  lake,  brook,  or  mea- 
dow ! " 

"  Kites  !  like  her  that  brings  the  news,"  said  Raoul. 

"  No,  nor  kestrels  like  him  that  hears  it,"  replied  Gillian  ; 
"but  brave  jerfalcons,  with  large  nares,  strongly  armed, 
and  beaks  short  and  something  bluish " 

"Pshaw,  with  thy  jargon  !  Where  came  they  from  ?" 
said  Raoul,  interested  in  the  tidings,  but  unwilling  to  give 
his  wife  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  he  was  so. 

"Erom  the  Isle  of  Man,"  replied  Gillian. 

"They   must   be   good,  then,    though    it   was  a  woman 
brought  tidings  of  them,"  said  Raoul,  smiling  grimly  at  his 
own  wit  ;  then,  leaving  the   mews,  he  demanded  to  know 
where  this  famous  falcon-merchant  was  to  be  met  withal. 
209 


210  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

"  Why,  between  tlie  barriers  and  the  inner  gate/*  replied 
Gillian,  "where  other  men  are  admitted  that  have  wares  to 
utter.     Where  should  he  be  ?" 

"  And  who  let  him  in  ?"  demanded  the  suspicious  Eaoul. 

"Why,  master  steward,  thou  owl!"  said  Gillian;  "he 
came  but  now  to  my  chamber,  and  sent  me  hither  to  call 
you." 

"  Oh,  the  steward — the  steward,  I  might  have  guessed  as 
much.  And  he  came  to  thy  chamber,  doubtless,  because  he 
could  not  have  as  easily  come  hither  to  me  himself.  Was  it 
not  so,  sweetheart  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know  why  he  chose  to  come  to  me  rather  than 
to  you,  Raoul,"  said  Gillian  ;  "  and  if  I  did  know,  perhaps 
I  would  not  tell  you.  Go  to,  miss  your  bargain  or  make 
your  bargain,  I  care  not  which  ;  the  man  will  not  wait  for 
you  :  he  has  good  proffers  from  the  seneschal  of  Malpas  and 
the  Welsh  Lord  of  Dinevawr." 

"  I  come — I  come,"  said  Eaoul,  who  felt  the  necessity  of 
embracing  this  opportunity  of  improving  his  hawking  estab- 
lishment, and  hastened  to  the  gate,  where  he  met  the  mer- 
chant, attended  by  a  servant,  who  kept  in  separate  cages  the 
three  falcons  which  he  offered  for  sale. 

The  first  glance  satisfied  Raoul  that  they  were  of  the  best 
breed  in  Europe,  and  that,  if  their  education  were  in  corre- 
spondence to  their  race,  there  could  scarce  be  a  more 
valuable  addition  even  to  a  royal  mews.  The  merchant  did 
not  fail  to  enlarge  upon  all  their  points  of  excellence — the 
breadth  of  their  shoulders,  the  strength  of  their  train,  their 
full  and  fierce  dark  eyes,  the  boldness  with  which  they 
endured  the  approach  of  strangers,  and  the  lively  spirit  and 
vigor  with  which  they  pruned  their  plumes,  and  shook,  or, 
as  it  was  technically  termed,  roused  themselves.  He  expa- 
tiated on  the  difficulty  and  danger  with  which  they  were 
obtained  from  the  Rock  of  Ramsey,  on  which  they  were 
bred,  and  which  was  an  eyrie  unrivaled  even  on  the  coast 
of  Norway. 

Raoul  turned  apparently  a  deaf  ear  fco  all  these  commen- 
dations. "Friend  merchant,"  said  he,  "I  know  a  falcon 
as  well  as  thou  dost,  and  1  will  not  deny  that  thine  are  fine 
ones  ;  but  if  they  be  not  carefully  trained  and  reclaimed,  I 
would  rather  have  a  goss-hawk  on  my  perch  than  the  fairest 
falcon  that  ever  stretched  wing  to  weatlier." 

"  I  grant  ye,"  said  the  merchant ;  "but  if  we  agree  on 
the  price,  for  that  is  the  main  matter,  thou  shalt  see  the 
birds  fly  if  thou  wilt,  and  then  buy  them  or  not  as  thou 


THE  BETROTHED  211 

Kkest.  I  am  no  true  merchant  if  thou  ever  saw*st  birds 
beat  them,  whether  at  the  mount  or  the  stoop." 

"  That  I  call  fair,"  said  Raoul,  "  if  the  price  be  equally 
so." 

"  It  shall  be  corresponding,"  said  the  hawk-merchant  ; 
"for  I  have  brought  six  cass  from  the  island,  by  the  good 
favor  of  good  King  Reginald  of  Man,  and  I  have  sold  every 
feather  of  them  save  these  ;  and  so,  having  emptied  my  cages 
and  filled  my  purse,  I  desire  not  to  be  troubled  longer  with 
the  residue  ;  and  if  a  good  fellow,  and  a  judge,  as  thou 
seemest  to  be,  should  like  the  hawks  when  he  has  seen  them 
fly,  he  shall  have  the  price  of  his  own  making." 

"  Go  to,"  said  Raoul,  "we  will  have  no  blind  bargains  ; 
my  lady,  if  the  hawks  be  suitable,  is  more  able  to  pay  for 
them  than  thou  to  give  them  away.  Will  a  bezant  be  a 
conformable  price  for  the  cast  ?" 

"  A  bezant,  master  falconer  !  By  my  faith,  you  are  no 
bold  bedesman  ;  nevertheless,  double  your  offer,  and  I  will 
consider  it." 

"  If  the  hawks  are  well  reclaimed,"  said  Raoul,  "  I  will 
give  you  a  bezant  and  a  half  ;  but  I  will  see  them  strike  a 
heron  ere  I  will  be  so  rash  as  deal  with  you." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  merchant,  "  and  I  had  better  take 
your  offer  than  be  longer  cumbered  with  them  ;  for  were  I 
to  carry  them  into  Wales,  I  miglit  get  paid  in  a  worse 
fashion  by  some  of  their  long  knives.  Will  you  to  horse 
presently  ?" 

"  Assuredly,"  said  Raoul ;  "  and,  though  March  be  the 
fitter  month  for  hawking  at  the  lieron,  yet  I  will  show  you 
one  of  these  frog-peckers  for  the  trouble  of  riding  "the 
matter  of  a  mile  by  the  water-side." 

"  Content,  sir  falconer,"  said  the  merchant.  "  But  are  we 
to  go  alone,  or  is  there  no  lord  or  lady  in  the  castle  who 
would  take  pleasure  to  see  a  piece  of  game  gallantly  struck  ? 
I  am  not  afraid  to  show  these  hawks  to  a  countess." 

"  My  lady  used  to  love  the  sport  well  enough,"  said 
Raoul ;  "  but,  I  wot  not  why,  she  is  moped  and  mazed  ever 
since  her  father's  death,  and  lives  in  her  fair  castle  like  a  nun 
in  a  cloister,  without  disport  or  revelry  of  any  kind.  Never- 
theless, Gillian,  thou  canst  do  something  with  her  ;  good 
now,  do  a  kind  deed  for  once,  and  move  her  to  come  out 
and  look  on  this  morning's  sport.  The  poor  heart  hath  seen 
no  pastime  this  summer." 

"  That  I  will  do,"  quoth  Gillian  ;  "  and,  moreover,  I  will 
ghow  her  such  a  new  riding-tire  for  the  head,  that  no  woman 


212  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

born  could  ever  look  at  without  the  wish  to  toss  it  a  little 
in  the  wind." 

As  Gillian  spoke,  it  appeared  to  her  jealous-pated  husband 
that  he  surprised  a  glance  of  more  intelligence  exchanged 
betwixt  her  and  the  trader  than  brief  acquaintance  seemed 
to  warrant,  even  when  allowance  was  made  for  the  extreme 
frankness  of  Dame  Gillian's  disposition.  He  thought  also 
that,  on  looking  mora  closely  at  the  merchant,  his  lineaments 
were  not  totally  unknown  to  him  ;  and  proceeded  to  say  to 
him  drily,  "We  have  met  before,  friend,  but  I  cannot  call 
to  remembrance  where," 

"Like  enough,"  said  the  merchant:  "  I  have  used  this 
country  often,  and  may  have  taken  money  of  you  in  the  way 
of  trade.  If  I  were  in  fitting  place,  I  would  gladly  bestow 
a  pottle  of  wine  to  our  better  acquaintance." 

"Not  so  fast,  friend,"  said  the  old  huntsman;  "ere  I 
drink  to  better  acquaintance  with  any  one,  I  must  be  well 
pleased  with  what  I  already  know  of  him,  "We  will  see  thy 
hawks  fly,  and  if  their  breeding  match  thy  bragging,  we 
may  perhaps  crush  a  cup  together.  And  here  come  grooms 
and  equerries,  in  faith  :  my  lady  has  consented  to  come 
forth." 

The  opportunity  of  seeing  this  rural  pastime  had  offered 
itself  to  Eveline,  at  a  time  when  the  delightful  brilliancy  of 
the  day,  the  temperance  of  the  air,  and  the  joyous  Avork  of 
harvest,  proceeding  in  every  direction  around,  made  the 
temptation  to  exercise  almost  irresistible. 

As  they  j^roposed  to  go  no  farther  than  the  side  of  the 
neighboring  river,  near  the  fatal  bridge,  over  which  a  small 
guard  of  infantry  was  constantly  maintained,  Eveline  dis- 
pensed with  any  farther  escort,  and,  contrary  to  the  custom 
of  the  castle,  took  no  one  in  her  train  save  Rose  and 
Gillian,  and  one  or  two  servants,  Avho  led  spaniels  or  carried 
appurtenances  of  the  chase.  Raoul,  the  merchant,  and 
an  equerry  attended  her,  of  course,  each  holding  a  hawk  on 
his  wrist,  and  anxiously  adjusting  the  mode  in  which  they 
should  throw  them  off,"  so  as  best  to  ascertain  the  extent  of 
their  powers  and  training. 

When  these  important  points  had  been  adjusted,  the  party 
rode  down  the  river,  carefully  looking  on  every  side  for  the 
object  of  their  game  ;  but  no  heron  was  seen  stalking  on  the 
usual  haunts  of  the  bird,  although  there  was  a  heronry  at  no 
great  distance. 

Few  disappointments  of  a  small  nature  are  more  teasing 
than  that  of  a  sportsman  who,  having  sat  out  with  all  means 


TUE  BETROTHED  213 

and  appliances  for  destruction  of  game,  finds  that  there  is 
none  to  be  met  with  ;  because  he  conceives  himself,  with 
his  full  shooting  trim  and  his  empty  game-pouch,  to  be  sub- 
jected to  the  sneer  of  every  passing  rustic.  The  party  of 
the  Lady  Eveline  felt  all  the  degradation  of  such  disappoint- 
ment. 

''A  fair  country  this,"  said  the  merchant,  ''where,  on 
two  miles  of  river,  you  cannot  find  one  poor  heron  \" 

"  It  is  the  clatter  those  d — d  Flemings  make  with  their 
water-mills  and  fulling-mills,"  said  Eaoul  :  "they  destroy 
good  sport  and  good  company  wherever  they  come.  But 
were  my  lady  willing  to  ride  a  mile  or  so  farther  to  the  Eed 
Pool,  I  could  show  you  a  long-shanked  fellow  who  would 
make  yonr  hawks  canceller  till  their  brains  were  giddy." 

"  The  Eed  Pool  I"  said  Eose  ;  "thou  knowest  it  is  more 
than  three  miles  beyond  the  bridge,  and  lies  up  towards  the 
hills." 

•'''  Ay — ay,"  said  Eaoul,  "  another  Flemish  freak  to  spoil 
pastime  !  They  are  not  so  scarce  on  the  marches  these 
Flemish  wenches,  that  they  should  fear  being  hawked  at  by 
Welsh  haggards." 

"  Eaoul  is  right,  Eose,"  answered  Eveline  :  "  it  is  absurd 
to  be  cooped  up  like  birds  in  a  cage,  when  all  around  us  has 
been  so  uniformly  quiet.  I  am  determined  to  break  out  oi 
bounds  for  once,  and  see  sport  in  our  old  fashion,  without 
being  surrounded  with  armed  men  like  prisoners  of  state. 
"We  will  merrily  to  the  Eed  Pool,  wench,  and  kill  a  heron 
like  free  maids  of  the  marches." 

"  Let  me  but  tell  my  father,  at  least,  to  mount  and  follow 
us,"  said  Eose ;  for  they  were  now  near  the  reestablished 
manufacturing-houses  of  the  stout  Fleming. 

"  I  care  not  if  thou  dost,  Eose,"  said  Eveline  ;  "  yet  credit 
me,  girl,  we  will  be  at  the  Eed  Pool,  and  thus  far  on  our 
way  home  again,  ere  tliy  father  has  donned  his  best  doublet, 
girded  on  his  two-handed  sword,  and  accoutered  his  strong 
Flanderkin  elephant  of  a  horse,  which  he  judiciously  names 
Sloth — nay,  frown  not,  and  lose  not,  in  justifying  thy  father, 
tlie  time  that  may  be  better  spent  in  calling  him  out." 

Rose  rode  to  the  mills  accordingly,  when  Wilkin  Flam- 
mock,  at  the  command  of  his  liege  mistress,  readily  hastened 
to  get  his  steel  cap  and  habergeon,  and  ordered  half  a  dozen 
of  liis  kinsmen  and  servants  to  get  on  horseback.  Eose 
remained  with  him,  to  urge  him  to  more  despatch  than  his 
methodical  disposition  rendered  natural  to  him  ;  but,  in 
spite  of  all  her  efforts  to  stimulate  him,  the  Lady  Eveline  • 


214  WA  VERLEY  N  0  VEL  S 

had  passed  the  bridge  more  than  half  an  hour  ere  her  escort 

was  prepared  to  follow  her. 

Meanwhile,  apprehensive  of  no  evil,  and  riding  gaily  on, 
with  the  sensation  of  one  escaped  from  confinement,  Eveline 
moved  forward  on  her  lively  jennet,  as  light  as  a  lark  ;  the 
plumes  with  which  Dame  Gillian  had  decked  her  riding-bon- 
net dancing  in  the  wind,  and  her  attendants  galloping  behind 
her,  with  dogs,  pouches,  lines,  and  all  other  appurtenances 
of  the  royal  sport  of  hawking.  After  passing  the  river,  the 
wild  greensward  path  which  they  pursued  began  to  wind  up- 
ward among  small  eminences,  sometimes  bare  and  craggy, 
sometimes  overgrown  with  hazel,  sloe-thorn,  and  other  dwarf 
shrubs,  and  at  length,  suddenly  descending,  brought  them 
to  the  verge  of  a  mountain  rivulet,  that,  like  a  lamb  at  play, 
leaped  merrily  from  rock  to  rock,  seemingly  uncertain  which 
way  to  run. 

''  This  little  stream  was  always  my  favorite.  Dame  Gillian," 
said  Eveline,  "and  now  methinks  it  leaps  the  lighter  that  it 
sees  me  again." 

"  Ah  !  lady,"  said  Dame  Gillian,  whose  turn  for  conversa- 
tion never  extended  in  such  cases  beyond  a  few  phrases  of 
gross  flattery,  "  many  a  fair  knight  would  leap  shoulder- 
height  for  leave  to  look  on  you  as  free  as  the  brook  may  ! 
more  especially  now  that  you  have  donned  that  riding-cap, 
which,  in  exquisite  delicacy  of  invention,  methinks  is  a  bow- 
shot before  aught  that  I  ever  invented.  What  thinkest 
thou,  Raoul  ?" 

"  I  think,"  answered  her  well-natured  helpmate,  "  tliat 
women's  tongues  were  contrived  to  drive  all  the  game  out  of 
the  country.  Here  we  come  near  to  the  spot  where  we  hope 
to  speed,  or  nowhere ;  wherefore,  pray,  my  sweet  lady,  be  silent 
yourself,  and  keep  your  followers  as  much  so  as  tlieir  natures 
will  permit,  while  we  steal  along  the  bank  of  the  pool,  under 
the  wind,  with  our  hawk's  hoods  cast  loose,  all  ready  for  a 
flight." 

As  he  spoke,  they  advanced  about  a  hundred  yards  up  the 
brawling  stream,  until  the  little  vale  through  which  it  flowed 
making  a  very  sudden  turn  to  one  side,  showed  them  the 
Red  Pool,  the  superfluous  water  of  which  formed  the  rivulet 
itself. 

This  mountain-lake,  or  tarn,  as  it  is  called  in  some  coun- 
tries, was  a  deep  basin  of  about  a  mile  in  circumference,  but 
rather  oblong  than  circular.  On  the  side  next  to  our  falcon- 
ers arose  a  ridge  of  rock,  of  a  dark  red  hue,  giving  name  to 
the  pool,  which,  reflecting  this  massive  and  dusky  barrier, 


THE  BETROTHED  215 

appeared  to  partake  of  its  color.  On  the  opposite  side  was 
a  heathy  hill,  whose  autumnal  bloom  had  not  yet  faded  from 
purple  to  russet ;  its  surface  was  varied  by  the  dark  green 
furze  and  the  fern,  and  in  many  places  gray  cliffs,  or  loose 
stones  of  the  same  color,  formed  a  contrast  to  the  ruddy 
precipice  to  which  they  lay  opposed.  A  natural  road  of 
beautiful  sand  was  formed  by  a  beach,  which,  extending  all 
the  way  around  the  lake,  separated  its  waters  from  the  pre- 
cipitous rock  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  from  the 
steep  and  broken  hill ;  and  being  nowhere  less  than  five  or 
six  yards  in  breadth,  and  in  most  places  greatly  more,  offered 
around  its  whole  circuit  a  tempting  opportunity  to  the  rider 
who  desired  to  exercise  and  breathe,  the  horse  on  which  he 
was  mounted.  The  verge  of  the  pool  on  the  rocky  side  was 
here  and  there  strewed  with  fragments  of  large  size,  detached 
from  the  precipice  above,  but  not  in  such  quantity  as  to  en- 
cumber this  pleasant  horse-course.  Many  of  these  rocky 
masses,  having  passed  the  margin  of  the  water  in  their 
fall,  lay  immersed  there  like  small  islets  ;  and  placed  amongst 
a  little  archipelago,  the  quick  eye  of  Raoul  detected  the  heron 
which  they  were  in  search  of. 

A  moment's  consultation  was  held  to  consider  in  what 
manner  they  should  approach  the  sad  and  solitary  bird, 
which,  unconscious  that  itself  was  the  object  of  a  formidable 
ambuscade,  stood  motionless  on  a  stone  by  the  brink  of  the 
lake,  watching  for  such  small  fish  or  water-reptiles  as  might 
chance  to  pass  by  its  lonely  station.  A  brief  debate  took 
place  betwixt  Eaoul  and  the  hawk-merchant  on  the  best 
mode  of  starting  the  quarry,  so  as  to  allow  Lady  Eveline  and 
her  attendants  the  most  perfect  view  of  the  flight.  The 
facility  of  killing  the  heron  at  the  far  jetee  or  at  i\\e  jetee 
ferre — that  is,  upon  the  hither  or  farther  side  of  the  pool- 
was  anxiously  debated  in  language  of  breathless  importance, 
as  if  some  great  and  perilous  enterprise  was  about  to  be 
executed. 

At  length  the  arrangements  were  fixed,  and  the  party  be- 
gan to  advance  towards  the  aquatic  hermit,  who,  by  this 
time  aware  of  their  approach,  drew  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  erected  his  long,  lean  neck,  spread  his  broad  fan-like 
wings,  uttered  his  usual  clanging  cry,  and,  projecting  his 
length  of  thin  legs  far  behind  him,  rose  upon  the  gentle 
breeze.  It  was  then,  with  a  loud  whoop  of  encourage- 
ment, that  the  merchant  threw  off  the  noble  hawk  he  bore, 
having  first  unhooded  her  to  give  her  a  view  of  the  quarry. 

Eager  as  a  frigate  in  chase  of  some  rich  galleon,  darted 


216  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  falcon  towards  the  enemy  which  she  had  been  taught  to 
pursue  ;  while,  preparing  for  defense,  if  he  should  be  unable 
to  escape  by  flight,  the  heron  exerted  all  his  powers  of  speed 
to  escape  from  an  enemy  so  formidable.  Plying  his  almost 
unequaled  strength  of  wing,  he  ascended  high  and  higher 
in  the  air,  by  short  gyrations,  that  the  hawk  might  gain  no 
vantage-ground  for  pouncing  on  him  ;  while  his  spiked  beak, 
at  the  extremity  of  so  long  a  neck  as  enabled  him  to  strike 
an  object  at  a  yard's  distance  in  every  direction,  possessed  for 
any  less  spirited  assailant  all  the  terrors  of  a  Moorish  javelin. 

Another  hawk  was  now  thrown  off,  and  encouraged  by  the 
halloos  of  the  falconer  to  join  her  companion.  Both  kept 
mounting,  or  scaling  the  air,  as  it  were,  by  a  succession  of 
small  circles,  endeavoring  to  gain  that  superior  height  which 
the  heron  on  his  part  was  bent  to  preserve  ;  and,  to  the  ex- 
quisite delight  of  the  spectators,  the  contest  was  continued 
until  all  three  were  wellnigh  mingled  with  the  fleecy  clouds, 
from  which  was  occasionally  heard  the  harsh  and  plaintive 
cry  of  the  quarry,  appealing  as  it  were  to  the  heaven  which 
he  was  approaching  against  the  wanton  cruelty  of  those  by 
whom  he  was  persecuted. 

At  length  one  of  the  falcons  had  reached  a  pitch  from 
which  she  ventured  to  stoop  at  the  heron  ;  but  so  judici- 
ously did  the  quarry  maintain  his  defense,  as  to  receive 
on  his  beak  the  stroke  which  the  falcon,  shooting  down  at 
full  descent,  had  made  against  his  right  wing  ;  so  that  one 
of  his  enemies,  spiked  tlirough  the  body  by  his  own  weight, 
fell  fluttering  into  the  lake,  very  near  the  land,  on  the  side 
far  111  est  from  the  falconers,  and  perished  there. 

*' There  goes  a  gallant  falcon  to  the  fishes/'  said  Eaoul. 
**  Merchant,  thy  cake  is  dough." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  however,  the  remaining  bird  had 
avenged  the  fate  of  her  sister  ;  for  the  success  which  the 
heron  met  with  on  one  side  did  not  prevent  his  being  as- 
sailed on  the  other  wing ;  and  the  falcon  stooping  boldly, 
and  grappling  with,  or,  as  it  is  called  in  falconry,''  binding," 
his  prey,  both  came  tumbling  down  together,  from  a  great 
height 'in  the  air.  It  was  then  no  small  object  on  the  part 
of  the  falconers  to  come  in  as  soon  as  possible,  lest  the 
falcon  should  receive  hurt  from  the  beak  or  talons  of  the 
heron  ;  and  the  whole  party,  the  men  setting  spurs  and  the 
females  switching  their  palfreys,  went  off  like  the  wind, 
sweeping  along  the  fair  and  smooth  beach  betwixt  the 
rock  and  the  water. 

Lady  Eveline,  far  better  mounted  than  any  of  her  train. 


THE  BETROTHED  217 

her  sj^irits  elated  by  the  sport  and  by  the  speed  at  which  she 
moved,  was  much  sooner  than  any  of  her  attendants  at  the 
spot  where  the  falcon  and  heron,  still  engaged  in  their 
mortal  struggle,  lay  fighting  upon  the  moss,  the  wing  of 
the  latter  having  been  broken  by  the  stoop  of  the  former. 
The  duty  of  a  falconer  in  such  a  crisis  was  to  rush  in  and 
assist  the  hawk,  by  thrusting  the  heron's  bill  into  the  earth 
and  breaking  his  legs,  and  thus  permitting  the  falcon  to 
despatch  him  on  easy  terms. 

Neither  would  the  sex  nor  quality  of  the  Lady  Eveline 
have  excused  her  becoming  second  to  the  falcon  in  this 
cruel  manner  ;  but,  just  as  she  had  dismounted  for  that 
purpose,  she  was  surprised  to  .find  herself  seized  on  by  a 
wild  form,  who  exclaimed  in  Welsh  that  he  seized  her  as  a 
waif,  for  hawking  on  the  demesnes  of  Dawfyd  with  the 
One  Eye.  At  the  same  time  many  other  Welshmen,  to  the 
number  of  more  than  a  score,  showed  themselves  from 
behind  crags  and  bushes,  all  armed  at  point  with  the  axes 
called  Welsh  hooks,  long  knives,  darts,  and  bows  and 
arrows. 

Eveline  screamed  to  her  attendants  for  assistance,  and  at 
the  same  time  made  use  of  what  Welsh  phrases  she  pos- 
sessed, to  move  the  fears  or  excite  the  compassion  of  the 
outlawed  mountaineers  ;  for  she  doubted  not  that  she  had 
fallen  under  the  power  of  such  a  party.  When  she  found 
her  requests  were  unheeded,  and  she  perceived  it  was  their 
purpose  to  detain  her  prisoner,  she  disdained  to  use  farther 
entreaties ;  but  demanded  at  their  peril  that  they  should 
treat  her  with  respect,  promising  in  that  case  that  she 
would  pay  them  a  large  ransom,  and  threatening  them  with 
the  vengeance  of  the  Lords  Marchers,  and  particularly  of  Sir 
Damian  de  Lacy,  if  they  ventured  to  use  her  otherwise. 

The  men  seemed  to  understand  her,  and  although  they 
proceeded  to  tie  a  bandage  over  her  eyes,  and  to  bind  her 
arms  with  her  own  veil,  yet  they  observed  in  these  acts  of 
violence  a  certain  delicacy  and  attention  both  to  her  feel- 
ings and  her  safety  which  led  her  to  hope  that  her  request 
had  had  some  effect  upon  them.  They  secured  her  to  the 
saddle  of  her  palfrey,  and  led  her  away  with  them  through 
the  recesses  of  the  hills;  while  she  had  the  additional  dis- 
tress to  hear  behind  her  the  noise  of  a  confiict,  occasioned 
by  the  fruitless  efforts  of  her  retinue  to  procure  her  rescue. 

Astonishment  had  at  first  seized  the  hawking-party,  when 
they  saw  from  some  distance  their  sport  interrupted  by  a 
violent  assault  on  their  mistress.     Old  Raoul  valiantly  put 


m  WA VSRLEY  NOVEL S 

spurs  to  his  horse,  and,  calling  on  the  rest  to  follow  him 
to  the  rescue,  rode  furiously  towards  the  banditti ;  but, 
having  no  other  arms  save  a  hawking-pole  and  short  sword, 
he  and  those  who  followed  him  in  his  meritorious  but  in- 
effectual attempt  were  easily  foiled,  and  Raoul  and  one  or  two 
of  the  foremost  severely  beaten  ;  the  banditti  exercising  upon 
them  their  own  poles  till  they  were  broken  to  splinters,  but 
generously  abstaining  from  the  use  of  more  dangerous 
weapons.  The  rest  of  the  retinue,  completly  discouraged, 
dispersed  to  give  the  alarm,  and  the  merchant  and  Dame 
Gillian  remained  by  the  lake,  filling  the  air  with  shrieks  of 
useless  fear  and  sorrow.  The  outlaws,  meanwhile,  drawing 
together  in  a  body,  shot  a  few  arrows  at  the  fugitives,  but 
more  to  alarm  than  to  injure  them,  and  then  marched  off, 
as  if  to  cover  their  companions  who  had  gone  before  with 
the  Lady  Eveline  in  their  custody. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Four  ruffians  seized  me  yester  morn- 
Alas  !  a  maiden  most  forlorn  I 
They  choked  my  cries  with  wicked  might. 
And  bound  me  on  a  palfrey  white. 

Coleridge. 

Such  adventures  as  are  now  only  recorded  in  works  of 
mere  fiction  were  not  uncommon  in  the  feudal  ages,  when 
might  was  so  universal'ly  superior  to  right  ;  and  it  followed 
that  those  whose  condition  exposed  them  to  frequent  vio- 
lence were  more  prompt  in  repelling,  and  more  patient  in 
enduring,  it  than  could  otherwise  have  been  expected  from 
their  sex  and  age. 

The  Lady  Eveline  felt  that  she  was  a  prisoner,  nor  was  she 
devoid  of  fears  concerning  the  purpose  of  this  assault  ;  but 
she  suffered  neither  her  alarm  nor  the  violence  with  which 
she  was  hurried  along  to  deprive  her  of  the  power  of  observ- 
ing and  reflecting.  From  the  noise  of  hoofs  which  now  in- 
creased around,  she  concluded  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
ruffians  by  whom  she  had  been  seized  had  betaken  them- 
selves to  their  horses.  This  she  knew  was  consonant  to  the 
practise  of  the  Welsh  marauders,  who,  although  the  small 
size  and  slightness  of  their  nags  made  them  totally  unfit  for 
service  in  battle,  availed  themselves  of  their  activity  and 
sureness  of  foot  to  transport  them  with  the  necessary  celerity 
to  and  from  the  scenes  of  their  rapine,  ensuring  tbus  a  rapid 
and  unperceived  approach,  and  a  secure  and  speedy  retreat. 
These  animals  traversed  without  difficulty,  and  beneath  the 
load  of  a  heavy  soldier,  the  wild  mountain-paths  by  which 
the  country  was  intersected,  and  in  one  of  which  Lady 
Eveline  Berenger  concluded  she  was  now  engaged,  from  the 
manner  in  which  her  own  palfrey,  supported  by  a  man  on 
foot  at  either  rein,  seemed  now  to  labor  up  some  precipice, 
and  anon  to  descend  with  still  greater  risk  on  the  other  side. 

At  one  of  those  moments,  a  voice  which  she  had  not  yet 
distinguished  addressed  her  in  the  Anglo-Norman  language, 
and  asked,  with  apparent  interest,  if  she  sat  safely  on  her 
saddle,  offering  at  the  same  time  to  have  her  accouterments 
altered  at  her  pleasure  and  convenience. 
2id 


220  WA  VERL ET  NO VEL S 

*'  Insult  not  my  condition  with  the  mention  of  safety," 
said  Eveline  ;  "  you  may  well  believe  that  I  hold  my  safety 
altogether  irreconcilable  with  these  deeds  of  violence.  If  I 
or  my  vassals  have  done  injury  to  any  of  the  Oymry,  let  me 
know,  and  it  shall  be  amended.  If  it  is  ransom  which  you 
desire  name  the  sum,  and  I  will  send  an  order  to  treat  for 
it ;  but  detain  me  not  prisoner,  for  that  can  but  injure  me, 
and  will  avail  you  nothing." 

''  The  Lady  Eveline,"  answered  the  voice,  still  in  a  tone 
of  courtesy  inconsistent  with  the  violence  which  she  sus- 
tained, "  will  speedily  find  that  our  actions  are  more  rough 
than  our  purposes.*' 

"  It  you  know  who  I  am,"  said  Eveline,  "  you  cannot 
doubt  that  this  atrocity  will  be  avenged  ;  you  must  know  by 
whose  banner  my  lands  are  at  present  protected." 

"  Under  De  Lacy's,"  answered  the  voice,  with  a  tone  of 
indifference.     *'  Be  it  so — falcons  fear  not  falcons." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  halt,  and  a  confused  murmur 
arose  amongst  those  around  her,  who  had  hitherto  been 
silent,  unless  when  muttering  to  each  other  in  Welsh,  and 
as  briefly  as  possible,  directions  which  way  to  hold,  or  en- 
couragement to  use  haste. 

These  murmurs  ceased,  and  there  was  a  pause  of  several 
minutes  ;  at  length  Eveline  again  heard  the  voice  which  for- 
merly addressed  her,  giving  directions  which  she  could  not 
understand.  He  then  spoke  to  herself.  "  You  will  pres- 
ently see,"  he  said,  "whether  I  have  spoken  truly  when  1 
said  I  scorned  the  ties  by  which  you  are  fettered.  But  you 
are  at  once  the  cause  of  strife  and  the  reward  of  victory, 
your  safety  must  be  cared  for  as  time  will  admit ;  and, 
strange  as  the  mode  of  protection  is  to  which  we  are  to  com- 
mit you,  I  trust  the  victor  in  the  approaching  struggle  will 
find  you  uninjured." 

"  Do  not,  for  the  sake  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  let  there  be 
strife  and  bloodshed!"  said  Eveline;  "rather  unbind  my 
eyes,  and  let  me  speak  to  those  whose  approach  you  dread. 
If  friends,  as  it  would  seem  to  me,  I  will  be  the  means  of 
peace  between  you." 

"I  despise  peace,"  replied  the  speaker.  "1  have  not 
undertaken  a  resolute  and  daring  adventure,  to  resign  it  as 
a  child  doth  his  plaything,  at  the  first  frown  of  fortune. 
Please  to  alight,  noble  lady  ;  or  rather  be  not  offended  that 
I  thus  lift  you  from  the  seat  and  place  you  on  the  green- 
sward." 

As  he  spoke,  Eveline  felt  herself  lifted  from  her  palfrey. 


THE  BETROTHED  221 

and  placed  carefully  and  safely  on  the  ground,  in  a  sitting 
posture.  A  moment  after,  the  same  peremptory  valet  who 
had  aided  her  to  dismount  disrobed  her  of  her  cap,  the 
masterpiece  of  Dame  Giillau,  and  of  her  upper  mantle. 
"  I  must  yet  further  require  you,"  said  the  bandit  leader, 
"  to  creep  on  hands  and  knees  into  this  narrow  aperture. 
Believe  me,  I  regret  the  nature  of  the  singular  fortification 
to  which  I  commit  your  person  for  safety." 

Eveline  crept  forwards  as  directed,  conceiving  resistance 
to  be  of  no  avail,  and  thinking  that  compliance  with  the  re- 
quest of  one  who  spoke  like  a  person  of  consequence  might 
find  her  protection  against  the  unbridled  fury  of  the  Welsh, 
to  whom  she  was  obnoxious,  as  being  the  cause  of  Gwen- 
wyn's  death  and  the  defeat  of  the  Britons  under  the  walls 
of  the  Garde  Doloureuse. 

She  crept  then  forwards  through  a  narrow  and  damp  pas- 
sage, built  on  either  side  with  rough  stones,  and  so  low  that 
she  could  not  have  entered  it  in  any  other  posture.  When 
she  had  proceeded  about  two  or  three  yards,  the  passage 
opened  into  a  concavity  or  apartment,  high  enough  to  per- 
mit her  to  sit  at  her  ease,  and  of  irregular,  but  narrow, 
dimensions.  At  the  same  time  she  became  sensible,  from 
the  noise  which  she  heard  behind  her,  that  the  ruffians  were 
stopping  up  the  passage  by  which  she  had  been  thus  intro- 
duced into  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  She  could  distinctly 
hear  the  clattering  of  stone  with  which  the}  closed  the  en- 
trance, and  she  became  sensible  that  the  current  of  fresh 
air  which  had  rushed  through  the  opening  was  gradually 
failing,  and  that  the  atmosphere  of  the  subterranean  apart- 
ment became  yet  more  damp,  earthy,  and  oppressive  than 
at  first. 

At  this  moment  came  a  distant  sound  from  without,  in 
which  Eveline  thought  she  could  distinguish  cri'^s,  blows, 
the  trampling  of  horse,  the  oaths,  shouts,  and  screams  of  the 
combatants,  but  all  deadened  by  the  rude  walls  ot  her  prison 
into  a  confused,  hollow  murmur,  conveying  such  intelli- 
gence to  her  ears  as  we  may  suppose  the  dead  to  hear  from 
the  world  they  have  quitted. 

Influenced  by  desperation,  under  circumstances  so  dread- 
ful, Eveline  struggled  for  liberty  with  such  frantic  energy 
that  she  partly  effected  her  purpose  by  forcing  her  arms  from 
the  bonds  which  confined  them.  But  this  only  convinced 
her  of  the  impossibility  to  escape  ;  for,  rending  off  the  veil 
which  wrapped  her  head,  she  found  herself  in  total  darkness, 
and  flinging  her  arms  hastily  around  her,  she  discovered  she 


222  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS 

was  cooped  np  in  a  subterranean  cavern  of  very  narrow 
dimensions.  Her  hands,  wliich  groped  around,  encountered 
only  pieces  of  decayed  metal,  and  a  substance  which,  at  an- 
other moment,  would  have  made  her  shudder,  being,  in 
truth,  the  moldering  bones  of  the  dead.  At  present,  not 
even  this  circumstance  could  add  to  her  fears,  immured  as 
she  seemed  to  be,  to  perish  by  a  strange  and  subterranean 
death,  while  her  friends  and  deliverers  were  probably  within 
a  few  yards  of  her.  She  flung  her  arms  wildly  around  in 
search  of  some  avenue  of  escape,  but  every  effort  she  made 
for  liberating  herself  from  the  ponderous  circumvallation  was 
as  ineffectual  as  if  directed  against  the  dome  of  a  cathedral. 

The  noise  by  which  her  ears  were  at  first  assailed  increased 
rapidly,  and  at  one  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  covering  of 
the  vault  under  which  she  lay  sounded  repeatedly  to  blows, 
or  the  shock  of  substances  which  had  fallen,  or  been  thrown, 
against  it.  It  was  impossible  that  a  human  brain  could  have 
withstood  these  terrors,  operating  upon  it  so  immediately; 
but  happily  this  extremity  lasted  not  long.  Sounds,  more 
hollow  and  dying  away  in  distance,  argued  that  one  or  other 
of  the  parties  had  retreated  ;  and  at  length  all  was  silent. 

Eveline  was  now  left  to  the  undisturbed  contemj^lation  of 
her  own  disastrous  situation.  The  fight  was  over,  and,  as 
circumstances  led  her  to  infer,  her  own  friends  were  con- 
querors ;  for  otherwise  the  victor  would  have  relieved  her 
from  her  place  of  confinement,  and  carried  her  away  captive 
with  him,  as  his  words  had  menaced.  But  what  could  the 
success  of  her  faithful  friends  and  followers  avail  Eveline, 
who,  pent  up  under  a  place  of  concealment  which,  whatever 
was  its  character,  must  have  escaped  their  observation,  was 
left  on  the  field  of  battle,  to  become  again  the  prize  of  the 
enemy,  should  their  band  venture  to  return,  or  die,  in  dark- 
ness and  privation,  a  death  as  horrid  as  ever  tyrant  invented 
or  martyr  underwent,  and  which  the  unfortunate  young  lady 
could  not  even  bear  to  think  of  without  a  prayer  that  her 
agony  might  at  least  be  shortened. 

In  this  hour  of  dread  she  recollected  the  poniard  which 
she  wore,  and  the  dark  thought  crossed  her  mind  that,  when 
life  became  hopeless,  a  speedy  death  was  at  least  within  her 
reach.  As  her  soul  shuddered  at  so  dreadful  an  alternative, 
the  question  suddenly  occurred,  might  not  this  weapon  be 
put  to  a  more  hallowed  use,  and  aid  her  emancipation  in- 
stead of  abridging  her  sufferings  ? 

This  hope  once  adopted,  the  daughter  of  Eaymond  Be- 
renger  hastened  to  prove  the  experiment,  and  by  repeated 


THE  BETROTHED  223 

efforts  succeeded,  though  with  difficulty,  in  changing  her 
posture,  so  as  to  admit  of  her  inspecting  her  place  of  con- 
tinement  all  around,  but  particularly  the  passage  by  v/hich 
she  had  entered,  and  by  which  she  now  attempted  again  to 
return  to  the  light  of  day.  She  crept  to  the  extremity,  and 
found  it,  as  she  expected,  strongly  blocked  up  with  large 
stones  and  earth,  rammed  together  in  such  a  manner  as  nearly 
to  extinguish  all  hope  of  escape.  The  work,  however,  had 
been  hastily  performed,  and  life  and  liberty  were  prizes  to 
stimulate  exertion.  AVith  her  poniard  she  cleared  away  the 
earth  and  sods  ;  with  her  hands,  little  accustomed  to  such 
labor,  she  removed  several  stones,  and  advanced  in  her  task 
so  far  as  to  obtain  a  glimmering  of  light.  ai\d,  what  was 
scarce  less  precious,  a  supply  of  purer  air.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  she  had  the  misfortune  to  ascertain  that,  from  the 
size  and  massiveness  of  a  huge  stone  which  closed  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  passage,  there  was  no  hope  that  her  unas- 
sisted strength  could  effect  her  extrication.  Yet  her  condi- 
tion was  improved  by  the  admission  of  air  and  light,  as  well 
as  by  the  opportunity  afforded  of  calling  out  for  assistance. 

Such  cries,  indeed,  were  for  some  time  uttered  in  vain ; 
tlie  field  had  probably  been  left  to  the  dead  and  the  dying, 
for  low  and  indistinct  groans  were  the  only  answer  which 
she  received  for  several  minutes.  At  length,  as  she  repeated 
her  exclamation,  a  voice,  faint  as  that  of  one  just  awakened 
from  a  swoon,  pronounced  these  words  in  answer  :  "  Edris 
of  the  Earthen  House,  dost  thou  call  from  thy  tomb  to  the 
wretch  who  just  hastens  to  his  own  ?  Are  the  boundaries 
broken  down  which  connect  me  with  the  living  ?  And  do  I 
already  hear,  with  fleshly  ears,  the  faint  and  screaming  ac- 
cents of  the  dead  ?" 

"  It  is  no  spirit  who  speaks,'*  replied  Eveline,  overjoyed 
at  finding  she  could  at  least  communicate  her  existence  to 
a  living  person — "no  spirit,  but  a  most  unhappy  maiden, 
Eveline  Berenger  by  name,  immured  beneath  this  dark 
vault,  and  in  danger  to  perish  horribly,  unless  God  send  me 


rescue 


1 » 


'•  Eveline  Berenger  !*'  exclaimed  he  whom  she  addressed, 
in  the  accents  of  wonder.  "It  is  impossible!  I  watched 
her  green  mantle — I  watched  her  plumy  bonnet,  as  I  saw 
her  hurried  from  the  field,  and  felt  my  own  inability  to 
follow  to  the  rescue  ;  nor  did  force  or  exertion  altogether 
leave  me  till  the  waving  of  the  robe  and  the  dancing  of  the 
feathers  were  lost  to  my  eyes,  and  all  hope  of  rescuing  her 
abandoned  my  heart." 


224  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

''Faithful  vassal,  or  right  true  friend,  or  courteous 
stranger,  whichsoever  I  may  name  thee,"  answered  Eveline, 
"  know  thou  hast  been  abused  by  the  artifices  of  these  Welsh 
banditti :  the  mantle  and  head-gear  of  Eveline  Berenger 
they  have  indeed  with  them,  and  may  have  used  them  to 
mislead  those  true  friends  who,  like  thee,  are  anxious  for 
my  fate.  Wherefore,  brave  sir,  devise  some  succor,  if  thou 
canst,  for  thyself  and  me  ;  since  I  dread  that  these  ruffians, 
when  they  shall  have  escaped  immediate  pursuit,  will  return 
hither,  like  the  robber  to  the  hoard  where  he  has  deposited 
his  stolen  booty." 

"Now,  the  Holy  Virgin  be  praised,"  said  the  wounded 
man,  "that  I  can  spend  the  last  breath  of  my  life  in  thy 
iust  and  honorable  service  1  I  would  not  before  blow  my 
bugle,  lest  I  recalled  from  the  pursuit  to  the  aid  of  my 
worthless  self  some  of  those  who  might  be  effectually  en- 
gaged in  thy  rescue  ;  may  Heaven  grant  that  the  recall  may 
now  be  heard,  that  my  eyes  may  yet  see  the  Lady  Eveline 
in  safety  and  liberty  !  " 

The  words,  though  spoken  in  a  feeble  tone,  breathed  a 
spirit  of  enthusiasm,  and  were  followed  by  tlie  blast  of  a 
horn,  faintly  winded,  to  which  no  answer  was  made  save  the 
echoing  of  the  dell.  A  sharper  and  louder  blast  was  then 
sent  forth,  but  sunk  so  suddenly  that  it  seemed  the  breath 
of  him  who  sounded  the  instrument  had  failed  in  the  effort. 
A  strange  thought  crossed  Eveline's  mind  even  in  that  mo- 
ment of  uncertainty  and  terror.  "  That,"  she  said,  "  was 
the  note  of  a  De  Lacy  ;  surely  you  cannot  be  my  gentle 
kinsman.  Sir  Uamian  ?  " 

"  I  am  that  unhappy  wretch,  deserving  of  death  for  the 
evil  care  which  I  have  taken  of  the  treasure  entrusted  to  me. 
What  was  my  business  to  trust  to  reports  and  messengers  ? 
I  should  have  worshiped  the  saint  who  was  committed  to 
my  keeping  with  such  vigilance  as  avarice  bestows  on  the 
dross  which  he  calls  treasure.  I  should  havo  rested  no- 
where, save  at  your  gate  ;  outwatched  the  brightest  stars  in 
the  horizon  ;  unseen  and  unknown  myself,  I  should  never 
have  parted  from  your  neighborhood  ;  then  had  you  not 
been  in  the  present  danger,  and — much  less  important  con- 
sequence— thou,  Damian  de  Lacy,  had  not  filled  the  grave 
of  a  forsworn  and  negligent  caitiff  ! " 

"  Alas  !  noble  Damian,"  said  Eveline,  "  break  not  my 
heart  by  blaming  yourself  for  an  imprudence  wliicli  is 
altogether  my  own.  Thy  succor  was  ever  near  when  I  in- 
timated the  least  want  of  it ;  and  it  embitters  my  own  mis- 


THE  BETROTHED  225 

fortune  to  know  that  my  rashness  has  been  the  cause  of  your 
disaster.  Answer  me,  gentle  kinsman,  and  give  me  to  hope 
that  the  wounds  you  have  suffered  are  such  as  may  be  cured. 
Alas  !  how  much  of  your  blood  liave  I  seen  spilled,  and  what 
a  fate  is  mine,  that  I  should  ever  bring  distress  on  all  for 
whom  I  would  most  willingly  sacrifice  my  own  happiness  ! 
But  do  not  let  us  embitter  the  moments  given  us  in  mercy 
by  fruitless  repinings.  Try  what  you  can  to  stop  thine  ebb- 
uig  blood,  which  is  so  dear  to  England— to  Eveline— and  to 
thine  uncle." 

Damian  groaned  as  she  spoke,  and  was  silent ;  while,  mad- 
dened with  the  idea  that  ho  might  be  perishing  for  want  of 
aid,  Eveline  repeated  her  efforts  to  extricate  herself  for  her 
kinsman's  assistance,  as  well  as  lier  own.  It  was  all  in  vain, 
and  she  had  ceased  the  attempt  in  despair,  and,  passing 
from  one  hideous  subject  of  terror  to  another,  she  sat  listen- 
ing with  sharpened  ear  for  the  dying  groan  of  Damian,  when 
— feeling  of  ecstasy  ! — the  ground  was  shaken  with  horses' 
feet  advancing  rapidly.  Yet  this  joyful  sound,  if  decisive 
of  life,  did  not  assure  her  of  liberty.  It  might  be  the  banditti 
of  the  mountains  returning  to  seek  their  captive.  Even 
then  they  would  surely  allow  her  leave  to  look  upon  and  bind 
up  the  wounds  of  Damian  de  Lacy  ;  for  to  keep  him  as  a 
captive  might  vantage  them  more  in  many  degrees  than 
could  his  death.  A  horseman  came  up  ;  Eveline  invoked 
his  assistance  ;  and  the  first  word  she  lieard  was  an  ex- 
clamation in  Flemish  from  the  faithful  Wilkin  Flammock, 
which  nothing  save  some  spectacle  of  the  most  unusual  kind 
was  ever  known  to  comjael  from  that  phlegmatic  person. 
_  His  presence,  indeed,  was  particularly  useful  on  this  occa- 
sion ;  for,  being  informed  by  the  Lady  Eveline  in  what  con- 
dition she  was  placed,  and  implored  at  the  same  time  to 
lookto  the  situation  of  Sir  Damian  de  Lacy,  he  began,  with 
admirable  composure  and  some  skill,  to  stop  the  wounds  of 
the  one,  while  his  attendants  collected  levers,  left  by  the 
Welsh  as  they  retreated,  and  were  soon  ready  to  attempt  the 
liberation  of  Eveline.  With  much  caution,  and  under  the 
experienced  direction  of  Flammock,  the  stone  was  at  length 
so  much  raised  that  the  Lady  Eveline  was  visible,  to  the 
delight  of  all,  and  especially  of  the  faithful  Eose,  who, 
regardless  of  the  risk  of  personal  harm,  fluttered  around  her 
mistress's  place  of  confinement,  like  a  bird  robbed  of  her 
nestlings  around  the  cage  in  which  the  truant  urchin  has 
imprisoned  them.  Precaution  was  necessary  to  remove  the 
stone,  lest  falling  inwards  it  might  do  the  lady  injury. 
15 


226  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

At  length  the  rocky  fragment  was  so  much  displaced  that 
she  could  issue  forth  ;  while  her  people,  as  in  hatred  of  the 
coercion  which  she  had  sustained,  ceased  not  to  heave  with 
bar  and  lever  till,  totally  destroying  the  balance  of  the 
heavy  mass,  it  turned  over  from  the  little  flat  on  which  it 
had  been  placed  at  the  mouth  of  the  subterranean  entrance, 
and,  acquiring  force  as  it  revolved  down  a  steep  declivity, 
was  at  length  put  into  rapid  motion,  and  rolled,  crashed, 
and  thundered  down  the  hill,  amid  flashes  of  fire  which  it 
forced  from  the  rocks,  and  clouds  of  smoke  and  dust,  until 
it  alighted  in  the  channel  of  a  brook,  where  it  broke  into 
several  massive  fragments,  with  a  noise  that  might  have 
been  heard  some  miles  off. 

With  garments  rent  and  soiled  through  the  violence  she 
had  sustained,  with  disheveled  hair  and  disordered  dress, 
faint  from  the  stifling  effect  of  her  confinement,  and  ex- 
hausted by  the  eiiorts  she  had  made  to  relieve  herself,  Eve- 
line did  not,  nevertheless,  waste  a  single  minute  in  consid- 
ering her  own  condition  ;  but,  with  the  eagerness  of  a  sister 
hastening  to  the  assistance  of  her  only  brother,  betook  her- 
self to  examine  the  several  severe  wounds  of  Damian  de 
Lacy,  and  to  use  proper  means  to  stanch  the  blood  and  re- 
call him  from  his  swoon.  We  have  said  elsewhere  that,  like 
other  ladies  of  the  time,  Eveline  was  not  altogether  unac- 
quainted with  the  surgical  art,  and  she  now  displayed  a 
greater  share  of  knowledge  than  she  had  been  thought  capa- 
ble of  exerting.  There  was  prudence,  foresight,  and  ten- 
derness in  every  direction  which  she  gave,  and  the  softness 
of  the  female  sex,  with  their  officious  humanity,  ever  ready 
to  assist  in  alleviating  human  misery,  seemed  in  her  en- 
hanced, and  rendered  dignified,  by  the  sagacity  of  a  strong 
and  powerful  understanding.  After  hearing  with  wonder 
for  a  minute  or  two  the  prudent  and  ready-witted  directions 
of  her  mistress.  Rose  seemed  at  once  to  recollect  that  the 
patient  should  not  be  left  to  the  exclusive  care  of  the  Lady 
Eveline,  and  joining,  therefore,  in  the  task,  she  rendered 
what  assistance  she  could,  while  the  attendants  were  em- 
ployed in  forming  a  litter,  on  which  the  wounded  knight 
was  to  be  conveyed  to  the  castle  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  merry  place,  'tis  said,  in  days  of  yore ; 

But  something  ails  it  now — the  place  is  cursed. 

Wordsworth. 

The  place  on  which  the  skirmish  had  occurred,  and  the 
deliverance  of  the  Lady  Eveline  had  been  effected,  was  a  wild 
and  singular  spot,  being  a  small  level  plain,  forming  a  sort 
of  stage,  or  resting-place,  between  two  very  rough  paths, 
one  of  which  winded  up  the  rivulet  from  below,  and  another 
continued  the  ascent  above.  Being  surrounded  by  hills  and 
woods,  it  was  a  celebrated  spot  for  finding  game,  and,  in 
former  days,  a  Welsh  prince,  renowned  for  his  universal  hos- 
pitality, his  love  of  "  crw  "  and  of  the  chase,  had  erected  a 
forest-lodge,  where  he  used  to  feast  his  friends  and  followers 
with  a  profusion  unexampled  in  Cambria. 

The  fancy  of  the  bards,  always  captivated  with  magnifi- 
cence, and  having  no  objections  to  the  peculiar  species  of 
profusion  practised  by  this  potentate,  gave  him  the  surname 
of  Edris  of  the  Goblets,  and  celebrated  him  in  their  odes  in 
terms  as  high  as  those  which  exalt  the  heroes  of  the  famous 
Ilirlas  horn.  The  subject  of  their  praises,  however,  fell 
finally  a  victim  to  his  propensities,  having  been  stabbed  to 
the  heart  in  one  of  those  scenes  of  confusion  and  drunken- 
ness which  were  frequently  the  conclusion  of  his  renowned 
banquets.  Shocked  at  this  catastroj)he,  the  assembled 
Britons  interred  the  relics  of  the  prince  on  the  place  where 
he  had  died,  within  the  narrow  vault  where  Eveline  had 
been  confined,  and  having  barricaded  the  entrance  of  the 
sepulcher  with  fragments  of  rock,  heaped  over  it  an  im- 
mense cairn,  or  pile  of  stones,  on  the  summit  of  which  they 
put  the  assassin  to  death.  Superstition  guarded  the  spot  ; 
and  for  many  a  year  this  memorial  of  Edris  remained  un- 
violated,  although  the  lodge  had  gone  to  ruin,  and  its  ves- 
tiges had  totally  decayed. 

In  latter  years,  some  prowling  band  of  Welsh  robbers  had 

discovered   the   secret   entrance,    and   opened   it   with   the 

view  of  ransacking  the  tomb  for  arms  and  treasures,  which 

were  in  ancient  times  often  buried  with  the  dead.     These 

227 


228  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

marauders  were  disappointed,  and  obtained  nothing  by  the 
violation  of  the  grave  of  Edris  excepting  the  knowledge  of 
a  secret  place,  which  might  be  used  for  depositing  their 
booty,  or  even  as  a  place  of  retreat  for  one  of  their  number 
in  a  case  of  emergency. 

When  the  followers  of  Damian,  five  or  six  in  number,  ex- 
plained their  part  of  the  history  of  the  day  to  Wilkin  Flam- 
mock,  it  appeared  that  Damian  had  ordered  them  to  horse 
at  break  of  day,  with  a  more  considerable  body,  to  act,  as 
they  understood,  against  a  party  of  insurgent  peasants,  when 
of  a  sudden  he  had  altered  his  mind,  and,  dividing  his  force 
into  small  bands,  employed  himself  and  them  in  recon- 
noitering  more  than  one  mountain-pass  betwixt  Wales  and 
the  marches  of  the  English  country,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Garde  Doloureuse. 

This  was  an  occupation  so  ordinary  for  him  that  it  excited 
no  particular  notice.  These  maneuvers  were  frequently 
undertaken  bv  the  warlike  marchers,  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
timidating the  Welsh  in  general,  more  especially  the  bands 
of  outlaws,  who,  independent  of  any  regular  government, 
infested  those  wild  frontiers.  Yet  it  escaped  not  comment 
that,  in  undertaking  such  service  at  this  moment,  Damian 
seemed  to  abandon  that  of  dispersing  the  insurgents,  which 
had  been  considered  as  the  chief  object  of  the  day. 

It  was  about  noon  when,  falling  in,  as  good  fortune  would 
have  it.  with  one  of  the  fugitive  grooms,  Damian  and  his 
immediate  attendants  received  information  of  the  violence 
committed  on  the  Lady  Eveline,  and,  by  their  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  the  country,  were  able  to  intercept  the  ruffians  at 
the  Pass  of  Edris,  as  it  was  called,  by  which  the  Welsh  rovers 
ordinarilv  returned  to  their  strongholds  in  the  interior.  It 
is  probable  that  the  banditti  were  not  aware  of  the  small 
force  which  Damian  headed  in  person,  and  at  the  same  time 
knew  that  there  would  be  an  immediate  and  hot  pursuit  in 
their  rear  ;  and  these  circumstances  led  their  leader  to  adopt 
the  singular  expedient  of  hiding  Eveline  in  the  tomb,  while 
one  of°their  own  number,  dressed  in  her  clothes,  might 
serve  as  a  decoy  to  deceive  their  assailants,  and  lead  them 
from  the  spot  where  she  was  really  concealed,  to  which  it 
was  no  doubt  the  purpose  of  the  banditti  to  return,  when 
thev  had  eluded  their  pursuers. 

Accordingly,  the  robbers  had  already  drawn  up  before  the 
tomb  for  the  purpose  of  regularly  retreating,  until  they 
should  find  some  suitable  place  either  for  making  a  stand, 
or  where,  if  overmatched,  they  miglit,  by  abandoning  their 


THE  BETROTHED  229 

horses  ana  dispersing  among  the  rocks,  evade  the  attack  of 
the  Norman  cavah-y.  Their  plan  had  been  defeated  by  the 
precipitation  of  Daniian,  who,  beholding  as  he  thought  the 
plumes  and  mantle  of  the  Lady  Eveline  in  the  rear  of  their 
party,  charged  them  without  considering  either  the  odds  of 
numbers  or  the  lightness  of  his  own  armor,  which,  consist- 
ing only  of  a  head-piece  and  a  buff  surcoat,  offered  but  im- 
perfect resistance  to  the  Welsh  knives  and  glaives.  He  was 
accordingly  wounded  severely  at  the  onset,  and  would  have 
been  slain,  but  for  the  exertions  of  his  few  followers,  and 
the  fears  of  the  Welsh  that,  while  thus  continuing  the  battle 
in  front,  they  might  be  assaulted  in  the  rear  by  the  followers 
of  Eveline,  whom  they  must  now  suppose  were  all  in  arms 
and  motion.  They  retreated,  therefore,  or  rather  fled,  and 
the  attendants  of  Damian  were  despatched  after  them  by 
their  fallen  master,  with  directions  to  let  no  consideration 
induce  them  to  leave  off  the  chase  until  the  captive  Lady 
of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  was  delivered  from  her  ravishers. 

The  outlaws,  secure  in  their  knowledge  of  the  paths  and 
the  activity  of  their  small  Welsh  horses,  made  an  orderly 
retreat,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three  of  their  rearguard, 
cut  down  by  Damian  in  his  furious  onset.  They  shot  arrows, 
from  time  to  time,  at  the  men-at-arms,  and  laughed  at  the 
ineffectual  efforts  which  these  heavy-armed  warriors,  with 
their  barbed  horses,  made  to  overtake  them.  But  the  scene 
was  changed  by  the  appearance  of  Wilkin  Flammock,  on  his 
puissant  war-horse,  who  was  beginning  to  ascend  the  pass, 
leading  a  party  consisting  both  of  foot  and  horse.  The  fear 
of  being  intercepted  caused  the  outlaws  to  have  recourse  to 
their  last  stratagem,  and,  abandoning  their  Welsh  nags, 
they  betook  themselves  to  the  cliffs,  and,  by  superior  activity 
and  dexterity,  baffled,  generally  speaking,  the  attempts  of 
their  pursuers  on  either  hand.  All  of  them,  however,  were 
not  equally  fortunate,  for  two  or  three  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Flammock's  party  ;  amongst  others,  the  person  upon  whom 
Eveline's  clothes  had  been  placed,  and  who  now,  to  the 
great  disappointment  of  those  who  had  attached  themselves 
to  his  pursuit,  proved  to  be,  not  the  lady  whom  they  were 
emulous  to  deliver,  but  a  fair-haired  young  Welshman, 
whose  wild  looks  and  incoherent  speech  seemed  to  argue  a 
disturbed  imagination.  This  would  not  have  saved  him 
from  immediate  death,  the  usual  doom  of  captives  taken  in 
.such  skirmishes,  had  not  the  faint  blast  of  Damian's  horn, 
sounding  from  above,  recalled  his  own  party,  and  summoned 
that  of  Wilkin  Flammock  to  the  spot ;  while,  in  the  con- 


230  WAVERLEJ   NOVELS 

fusion  and  hurry  of  their  obeying  the  signal,  the  pity  or  the 
contempt  of  his  guards  suffered  the  prisoner  to  escape. 
They  had,  indeed,  little  to  learn  from  him,  even  had  he 
been  disposed  to  give  intelligence,  or  capable  of  communi- 
cating it.  All  were  well  assured  that  their  lady  had  fallen 
into  an  ambuscade,  formed  by  Dawfyd  the  One-eyed,  a  re- 
doubted freebooter  of  the  period,  who  had  ventured  upon 
this  hardy  enterprise  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  large  ran- 
som for  the  captive  Eveline,  and  all,  incensed  at  his  extreme 
insolence  and  audacity,  devoted  his  head  and  limbs  to  the 
eagles  and  the  ravens. 

These  were  the  particulars  which  the  followers  of  Flam- 
mock  and  of  Damian  learned  by  comparing  notes  with  each 
other  on  the  incidents  of  the  day.  As  they  returned  by  the 
Red  Pool,  tl)ey  were  joined  by  Dame  Gillian,  who,  after 
many  exclamations  of  joy  at  the  unexpected  liberation  of 
her  lady,  and  as  many  of  sorrow  at  the  unexpected  disaster 
of  Damian,  proceeded  to  inform  the  men-at-arms  that  the 
merchant  whose  hawks  had  been  the  original  cause  of  these 
adventures  had  been  taken  prisoner  by  two  or  three  of  the 
Welsh  in  their  retreat,  and  that  she  herself  and  the  wounded 
Raoul  would  have  shared  the  same  fate,  but  that  they  had 
no  horse  left  to  mount  her  upon,  and  did  not  consider  old 
Raoul  as  worth  either  ransom  or  the  trouble  of  killing._  One 
had,  indeed,  flung  a  stone  at  him  as  he  lay  on  the  hillside, 
but  happily,  as  his  dame  said,  it  fell  something  short  of 
him.  "ItVasbut  a  little  fellow  who  threw  it,"  she  said. 
"There  was  a  big  man  amongst  them  ;  if  he  had  tried,  it's 
like,  by  Our  Lady's  grace,  he  had  cast  it  a  thought  farther.*' 
So  saying,  the  dame  gathered  herself  up,  and  adjusted  her 
dress  for  again  mounting  on  horseback. 

The  wounded  Damian  was  placed  on  a  litter,  hastily  con- 
structed of  boughs,  and,  with  the  females,  was  placed  in  the 
center  of  the  little  troop,  augmented  by  the  rest  of  the  young 
Knight's  followers,  who  began  to  rejoin  his  standard.  The 
anited  body  now  marched  with  military  order  and  precau- 
tion, and  winded  through  the  passes  with  the  attention  of 
men  prepared  to  meet  and  to  repel  injury. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

What  I  fair,  and  young,  and  faithful  too? 
A  miracle,  if  this  be  true. 

Waller. 

Rose,  by  nature  one  of  the  most  disinterested  and  affec- 
donate  maidens  that  ever  breathed,  was  the  first  wlio,  has- 
tily considering  the  peculiar  condition  in  which  her  lady 
was  placed,  and  the  marked  degree  of  restraint  which  had 
hitherto  characterized  her  intercourse  with  her  youthful 
guardian,  became  anxious  to  know  how  the  wounded  knight 
was  to  be  disposed  of  ;  and  when  she  came  to  Eveline's  side 
for  the  purpose  of  asking  this  important  question,  her  reso- 
lution welluigh  failed  her. 

The  appearance  of  Eveline  was  indeed  such  as  might  have 
made  it  almost  cruelty  to  intrude  upon  her  any  other  subject 
of  anxious  consideration  than  those  with  which  her  mind 
had  been  so  lately  assailed,  and  was  still  occupied.  Her 
countenance  was  as  pale  as  death  could  have  made  it,  unless 
where  it  was  specked  with  drops  of  blood  ;  her  veil,  torn 
and  disordered,  was  soiled  with  dust  and  with  gore  ;  her  hair, 
wildly  disheveled,  fell  in  elf-locks  on  her  brow  and  shoulders, 
and  a  single  broken  and  ragged  feather,  which  was  all  that 
remained  of  her  head-gear,  had  been  twisted  among  her 
tresses  and  still  flowed  there,  as  if  in  mockery,  rather  than 
ornament.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  litter  where  Damian 
was  deposited,  and  she  rode  close  beside  it,  without  appar- 
ently wasting  a  thought  on  anything,  save  the  danger  of  him 
who  was  extended  there. 

Rose  plainly  saw  that  her  lady  was  under  feelings  of  ex- 
citation which  might  render  it  difficult  for  her  to  take  a 
wise  and  prudent  view  of  her  own  situation.  She  endeav- 
ored gradually  to  awaken  her  to  a  sense  of  it.  "Dearest 
lady,"''  said  Rose,  "  will  it  please  you  to  take  my  mantle  ?  " 

"Torment  me  not,'*  answered'Eveline,  with  some  sharp- 
ness in  her  accent. 

"Indeed,  my  lady,"  said  Dame  Gillian,  bustling  up  as 
one  who  feared  her  functions  as  mistress  of  the  robes  might 
be  interfered  with — "  indeed,  my  lady.  Rose  Flammock 
231 


232  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

speaks  truth  ;  and  neither  your  kirtle  nor  your  gown  are  sit- 
ting as  they  should  do  ;  and,  to  speak  truth,  tliey  are  but 
barely  decent.  And  so,  if  Rose  will  turn  herself,  and  put 
her  horse  out  of  my  way,"  continued  the  tire-woman,  "I 
will  put  your  dress  in  better  order  in  the  sticking  in  of  a 
bodkin  than  any  Fleming  of  them  all  could  do  in  twelve 
hours." 

"  I  care  not  for  my  dress,"  replied  Eveline,  in  the  same 
manner  as  before. 

"  Care  then  for  your  honor — for  your  fame,"  said  Eose, 
riding  close  to  her  mistress  and  whispering  in  her  ear  : 
'Uhink,  and  that  hastily,  how  you  are  to  dispose  of  this 
wounded  young  man." 

"  To  the  castle,"  answered  Eveline  aloud,  as  if  scorning 
the  affectation  of  secrecy — ''lead  to  the  castle",  and  that 
straiglit  as  you  can." 

"  Why  not  rather  to  his  own  camp,  or  to  Malpas  ?  "  said 
Eose.     ''  Dearest  lady,  believe,  it  will  be  for  the  best." 

"  Wherefore  not— wherefore  not  ?  Wherefore  not  leave 
him  on  the  wayside  at  once,  to  the  knife  of  the  Welshman 
and  the  teeth  of  the  wolf  ?  Once— twice— three  times  has 
he  been  my  preserver.  Where  I  go,  he  shall  go  ;  nor  will  I 
be  in  safety  myself  a  moment  sooner  than  I  know  that  he  is 
so." 

Rose  saw  that  she  could  make  no  impression  on  her  mis- 
tress, and  her  own  reflection  told  her  that  the  wounded 
man's  life  miglit  be  endangered  by  a  longer  transportation 
than  was  absolutely  necessary.  An  expedient  occurred  to 
her,  by  which  she  imagined  this  objection  might  be  obvi- 
ated ;  but  it  was  necessary  she  should  consult  her  father. 
She  struck  her  palfrey  with  her  riding-rod,  and  in  a  moment 
her  diminutive,  though  beautiful,  figure  and  her  spirited 
little  jennet  were  by  the  side  of  the  gigantic  Fleming  and 
his  tall  black  horse,  and  riding,  as  it  were,  in  their  vast 
shadow.  "  My  dearest  father,"  said  Rose,  "  the  lady  intends 
that  Sir  Damian  be  transported  to  the  castle,  where  it  is  like 
he  may  be  a  long  sojourner — what  think  you,  is  that  whole- 
some counsel  ?" 

"  Wholesome  for  the  youth,  surely,  Roschen,"  answered 
the  Fleming,  "  because  he  will  better  escape  the  risk  of  a 
fever." 

"  True  ;  but  is  it  wise  for  my  lady  ?"  continued  Rose. 

"  Wise  enough,  if  she  deal  wisely.  But  wherefore  shouldst 
thou  doubt  her,  Roschen  ?  " 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Rose,  unwilling  to  breathe  even  to  her 


THE  BETROTHED  233 

father  the  fears  and  doubts  which  she  herself  entertained  ; 
"  but  where  there  are  evil  tongues,  there  may  be  evil  rehears- 
ing. Sir  Damian  and  my  lady  are  both  very  young.  Me- 
thinks  it  were  better,  dearest  father,  would  you  offer  the 
shelter  of  your  roof  to  the  wounded  knight,  in  the  stead  of 
his  being  carried  to  the  castle.  '^ 

"  That  I  shall  not,  wench,"  answered  the  Fleming,  hast- 
ily— "  that  I  shall  not,  if  I  may  help.  Norman  shall  not 
cross  my  quiet  threshold,  nor  Englishman  neither,  to  mock 
my  quiet  thrift  and  consume  my  substance.  Thou  dost  not 
know  them,  because  thou  art  ever  with  thy  lady,  and  hast 
her  good  favor  ;  but  I  know  them  well,  and  the  best  I  can 
get  from  them  is  '  Lazy  Flanderkin,'  and  '  Greedy  Flan- 
derkin,'  and  'Flemish  sot' — I  thank  the  saints  they  cannot 
say  '  Coward  Flanderkin,'  since  Gwenwyn's  Welsh  uproar." 

"  I  had  ever  thought,  my  father,"  answered  Rose,  ''  that 
your  spirit  was  too  calm  to  regard  these  base  calumnies. 
Bethink  you  we  are  under  this  lady's  banner,  and  that 
she  has  been  my  loving  mistress,  and  her  father  was  your 
good  lord  ;  to  the  Constable,  too,  are  you  beholden  for  en- 
larged privileges.  Money  may  pay  debt,  but  kindness  only 
can  requite  kindness  ;  and  I  forebode  that  you  will  never 
have  such  an  opportunity  to  do  kindness  to  the  houses  of 
Berenger  and  De  Lacy  as  by  opening  the  doors  of  your 
house  to  this  wounded  knight." 

''The  doors  of  my  house  !"  answered  the  Fleming — 
"  do  I  know  how  long  I  may  call  that,  or  any  house  upon 
earth,  my  own  ?  Alas,  my  daughter,  we  came  hither  to  fly 
from  the  rage  of  the  elements,  but  who  knows  how  soon 
we  may  perish  by  the  wrath  of  men  ! " 

"  You  speak  strangely,  my  father,"  said  Rose.  "  It 
holds  not  with  your  solid  wisdom  to  augur  such  general 
evil  from  the  rash  enterprise  of  a  Welsh  outlaw." 

"I  think  not  of  the  one-eyed  robber,"  said  Wilkin,  "  al- 
though the  increase  and  audacity  of  such  robbers  as  Dawfyd 
is  no  good  sign  of  a  quiet  country.  But  thou,  who  livest 
within  yonder  walls,  hearest  but  little  of  what  passes 
without,  and  your  estate  is  less  anxious  ;  you  had  known 
nothing  of  the  news  from  me,  unless  in  case  I  had  found  it 
necessary  to  remove  to  another  country." 

"  To  remove,  my  dearest  father,  from  the  land  where 
your  thrift  and  industry  have  gained  you  an  honorable 
competency  ?" 

"  x\y,  and  where  the  hunger  of  wicked  men,  who  envy 
me  the  produce  of  my  thrift,  may  likely  bring  me  to  a  dis- 


234  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

honorable  death.  There  have  been  tumnlts  among  the 
English  rabble  in  more  than  one  county,  and  their  wrath  is 
directed  against  those  of  our  nation,  as  if  we  were  Jews  or 
heathens,  and  not  better  Christians  and  better  men  than 
themselves.  They  have,  at  York,  Bristol,  and  elsewhere, 
sucked  the  houses  of  tlie  Flemings,  spoiled  their  goods,  mis- 
used their  families,  and  murdered  themselves.  And  why, 
except  that  we  have  brought  among  them  the  skill  and  the 
industry  which  they  possessed  not ;  and  because  wealth, 
which  they  would  never  else  have  seen  in  Britain,  was  the 
reward  of  our  art  and  our  toil  ?  Roschen,  this  evil  spirit  is 
spreading  wider  daily.  Here  we  are  more  safe  than  else- 
where, because  we  form  a  colony  of  some  numbers  and 
strength.  But  I  confide  not  in  our  neighbors  ;  and  hadst 
not  thou,  Rose,  been  in  security,  I  would  long  ere  this  have 
given  up  all  and  left  Britain." 

"Given  up  all  and  left  Britain  l'^  The  words  sounded 
prodigious  in  the  ears  of  his  daughter,  who  knew  better 
than  any  one  how  successful  her  father  had  been  in  his 
industry,  and  how  unlikely  one  of  his  firm  and  sedate 
temper  was  to  abandon  known  and  present  advantages  for 
the  dread  of  distant  or  contingent  peril.  At  length  she  re- 
plied, "  If  such  be  your  peril,  my  father,  methinks  your 
house  and  goods  cannot  have  a  better  protection  than  the 
presence  of  this  noble  knight.  Where  lives  the  man  who 
dare  aught  of  violence  against  the  house  which  harbors 
Daniian  De  Lacy  ?" 

"  I  know  not  that,"  said  the  Fleming,  in  the  same  com- 
posed and  steady,  but  ominous,  tone.  "May  Heaven  for- 
give it  me  if  it  be  sin  !  but  I  see  little  save  folly  in  these 
Crusades,  which  the  priesthood  have  preached  up  so  success- 
fully. Here  has  the  Constable  been  absent  for  nearly  three 
years,  and  no  certain  tidings  of  his  life  or  death,  victory  or 
defeat.  He  marched  from  hence,  as  if  he  meant  not  to 
draw  bridle  or  sheathe  sword  until  the  Holy  Sepulcher  was 
won  from  the  Saracens,  yet  we  can  hear  with  no  certainty 
whether  even  a  hamlet  has  been  taken  from  the  Saracens. 
In  the  mean  while,  the  people  that  are  at  home  grow  dis- 
contented ;  their  lords,  with  the  better  part  of  their 
followers,  are  in  Palestine — dead  or  alive  we  scarcely  know  ; 
the  people  themselves  are  oppressed  and  flayed  by  stewards 
and  deputies,  whose  yoke  is  neither  so  light  nor  so  lightly 
endured  as  that  of  the  actual  lord.  The  commons,  who 
naturally  hate  the  knights  and  gentry,  think  it  no  bad  time 
to  make  some  head  against  them ;  ay,  and  there  be  some 


THE  BETROTHED  235 

of  noble  blood  who  would  not  care  to  be  their  leaders,  that 
they  may  have  their  share  in  the  spoil  ;  for  foreign  expedi- 
tions and  profligate  habits  have  made  many  poor,  and  he 
that  is  poor  will  murder  his  father  for  money.  I  hate  poor 
people,  and  I  would  the  devil  had  every  man  who  cannot 
keep  himself  by  the  work  of  his  own  hand  I" 

The  Fleming  concluded,  with  this  characteristic  impreca- 
tion, a  speech  which  gave  Rose  a  more  frightful  view  of  the 
state  of  England  than,  shut  up  as  she  was  within  the  Garde 
Doloureuse,  she  had  before  had  an  opportunity  of  learning. 
"  Surely,"  she  said — "  surely  these  violences  of  which  you 
speak  are  not  to  be  dreaded  by  those  who  live  under  the 
banner  of  De  Lacy  and  of  Berenger  ?" 

"  Berenger  subsists  but  in  name,"  answered  Wilkin  Flam- 
mock,  "andDamian,  though  a  brave  youth,  hath  not  his 
uncle's  ascendency  of  character  and  authority.  His  men 
also  complain  that  they  are  harassed  with  the  duty  of 
watching  for  protection  of  a  castle  in  itself  impregnable 
and  sufficiently  garrisoned,  and  that  tliey  lose  all  oppor- 
tunity of  honorable  enterprise,  as  they  call  it — that  is,  of 
fight  and  spoil — in  this  inactive  and  inglorious  manner  of 
life.  They  say  that  Damian  the  beardless  was  a  man,  but 
tliafc  Damian  with  the  mustachio  is  no  better  than  a  woman  ; 
and  tliat  age,  which  has  darkened  his  upper  lip,  hath  at  the 
same  time  blenched  his  courage.  And  they  say  more, 
wliich  were  but  wearisome  to  tell." 

"  Nay,  but,  let  me  know  what  they  say — let  me  know  it, 
for  Heaven's  sake!"  answered  Rose,  '-'if  it  concerns,  as  it 
must  concern,  my  dear  lady." 

"  Even  so,  Roschen,"  answered  Wilkin.  "  There  are 
many  among  the  Norman  men-at-arms  who  talk,  over  their 
wine-cups,  how  that  Damian  de  Lacy  is  in  love  with  his 
uncle's  betrothed  bride ;  ay,  and  that  they  correspond 
together  by  art  magic." 

"By  art  magic,  indeed,  it  must  be, '  said  Rose,  smiling 
scornfully,  "for  by  no  earthly  means  do  they  correspond,  as 
I,  for  one,  can  bear  witness." 

"  To  art  magic,  accordingly,  they  impute  it,"  quoth 
Wilkin  Flammock,  "  that,  so  soon  as  ever  my  lady  stirs 
beyond  the  portal  of  her  castle,  De  Lacy  is  in  the  saddle 
with  a  party  of  his  cavalry,  though  they  are  positively 
certain  that  he  has  received  no  messenger,  letter,  or  other 
ordinary  notice  of  her  purpose  ;  nor  have  they  ever,  on  such 
occasions,  scoured  the  passes  long  ere  they  have  seen  or 
heard  of  my  Lady  Eveline's  being  abroad." 


236  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

"  This  has  not  escaped  me,"  said  Eose  ;  "  and  my  lady 
has  expressed  herself  even  displeased  at  the  accuracy  which 
Damiun  displayed  in  procuring  a  knowledge  of  her  motions, 
as  well  as  at  the  officious  punctuality  with  which  he  has 
attended  and  gviarded  them.  To-day  has,  however,  shown," 
she  continued,  "that  his  vigilance  may  serve  a  good  jDur- 
pose  ;  and  as  they  never  met  upon  these  occasions,  but  con- 
tinued at  such  distance  as  excluded  even  the  possibility  of 
intercourse,  methinks  they  might  have  escaped  the  censure 
of  the  most  suspicious." 

"Ay,  my  daughter  Roschen,"  replied  Wilkin,  "but  it  is 
possible  even  to  drive  caution  so  far  as  to  excite  suspicion. 
Why,  say  the  men-at-arms,  should  these  two  observe  such 
constant,  yet  such  guarded,  intelligence  with  one  another  ? 
Why  should  their  aj)proacli  be  so  near,  and  why,  yet,  should 
they  never  meet  ?  If  they  had  been  merely  the  nephew  and 
the  uncle's  bride,  they  must  have  had  interviews  avowedly 
and  frankly  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  if  they  be  two  secret 
lovers,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  they  do  find  their  own 
private  places  of  meeting,  though  they  have  art  sufficient  to 
conceal  them." 

"  Every  word  that  you  speak,  my  father,"  replied  the 
generous  Eose,  "  increases  the  absolute  necessity  that  you 
receive  this  wounded  youth  into  your  house.  Be  the  evils 
you  dread  ever  so  great,  yet  may  you  rely  upon  it  that  they 
cannot  be  augmented  by  admitting  him,  with  a  few  of  his 
faithful  followers." 

"Not  one  follower,"  said  the  Fleming,  hastily— "not  one 
beef-fed  knave  of  them,  save  the  page  that  is  to  tend  him 
and  the  doctor  that  is  to  attempt  his  cure." 

"  But  I  may  offer  the  shelter  of  your  roof  to  these  three, 
at  least  ?  "  answered  Rose. 

"  Do  as  thou  wilt — do  as  thou  wilt,"  said  the  doating 
father.  "  By  my  faith,  Roschen,  it  is  well  for  thee  thou 
hast  sense  and  moderation  in  asking,  since  I  am  so  foolishly 
prompt  in  granting.  This  is  one  of  your  freaks,  now,  of 
honor  or  generosity  ;  but  commend  me  to  prudence  and 
honesty.  Ah  !  Eose — Eose,  those  who  would  do  what  is 
better  than  good  sometimes  bring  about  what  is  worse  than 
bad  !  But  I  think  I  shall  be  quit  of  the  trouble  for  the 
fear  ;  and  that  thy  mistress,  who  is,  with  reverence,  some- 
thing of  a  damsel-errant,  will  stand  stoutly  for  the  chival- 
rous privilege  of  lodging  her  knight  in  her  own  bower,  and 
tending  him  in  person." 

The  Fleming  prophesied  true.     Eose  had  no  sooner  made 


THE  BETROTHED  237 

the  proposal  to  Eveline  that  the  wounded  Damian  should 
be  left  at  her  father's  house  for  his  recovery  than  her  mis- 
tress briefly  and  positively  rejected  the  proijosal.  "  He  has 
been  my  preserver,"  she  said,  "  and  if  there  be  one  being  left 
for  whom  the  gates  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  should  of  them- 
selves fly  open,  it  is  to  Damian  de  Lacy.  Nay,  damsel,  look 
not  upon  me  with  that  suspicious  and  yet  sorrowful  coun- 
tenance ;  they  that  are  beyond  disguise,  my  girl,  contemn 
suspicion.  It  is  to  God  and  Our  Lady  that  I  must  answer, 
and  to  them  my  bosom  lies  open  ! " 

They  proceeded  in  silence  to  the  castle  gate,  when  the 
Lady  Eveline  issued  her  orders  that  her  guardian,  as  she 
emphatically  termed  Damian,  should  be  lodged  in  her 
father's  apartment ;  and,  with  the  prudence  of  more  advanced 
age,  she  gave  the  necessary  directions  for  the  reception  and 
accommodation  of  his  followers,  and  the  arrangements  which 
such  an  accession  of  guests  required  in  the  fortress.  All 
this  she  did  with  the  utmost  composure  and  presence  of 
mind,  even  before  she  altered  or  arranged  her  own  disordered 


Another  step  still  remained  to  be  taken.  She  hastened  to 
the  chapel  of  the  Virgin,  and  prostrating  herself  before  her 
divine  protectress,  returned  thanks  for  her  second  deliver- 
ance, and  implored  her  guidance  and  direction,  and,  through 
her  intercession,  that  of  Almighty  God,  for  the  disposal  and 
regulation  of  her  conduct.  "  Tliou  knowest,"  she  said, 
*'  that  from  no  confidence  in  my  own  strength  have  I  thrust 
myself  into  danger.  0  make  me  strong  where  I  am  most 
weak.  Let  not  my  gratitude  and  my  compassion  be  a  snare 
to  me  ;  and  while  I  strive  to  discharge  the  duties  which 
thankfulness  imposes  on  me,  save  me  from  the  evil  tongues 
of  men,  and  save — 0  save  me  from  the  insidious  devices  of 
my  own  heart ! " 

She  then  told  her  rosary  with  devout  fervor,  and,  retiring 
from  the  chapel  to  her  own  apartment,  summoned  her  women 
S  to  adjust  her  dress,  and  remove  the  external  appearance  oj 
I  the  violence  to  which  she  had  been  so  lately  subjected. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Julia.  Gentle  sir, 

You  are  our  captive  ;  but  we'll  use  you  so, 
That  you  shall  think  your  prison-joys  may  match 
Whate'er  your  liberty  hath  known  of  pleasure. 

Roderick.     No,  fairest,  we  have  trifled  here  too  long; 
And,  lingering  to  see  your  roses  blossom, 
I've  let  my  laurels  wither. 

Old  Play. 

Arkayed  in  garments  of  a  mourning  color,  and  of  a  fashion 
more  matronly  than  perhaps  altogether  befitted  her  youth — 
plain  to  an  extremity,  and  devoid  of  all  ornament  save  her 
rosary — Eveline  now  performed  the  duty  of  waiting  upon 
her  wounded  deliverer — a  duty  which  the  etiquette  of  the 
time  not  only  permitted,  but  peremptorily  enjoined.  She 
was  attended  by  Rose  and  Dame  Gillian.  Margery,  whose 
element  was  a  sick-chamber,  had  been  already  despatched  to 
that  of  the  young  knight,  to  attend  to  whatever  his  condition 
might  require. 

Eveline  entered  the  room  with  a  light  step,  as  if  unwilling 
to  disturb  the  patient.  She  paused  at  the  door,  and  cast  her 
eyes  around  her.  It  had  been  her  father's  chamber,  nor 
had  she  entered  it  since  his  violent  death.  Around  the  walls 
hung  a  part  of  his  armor  and  weapons,  with  hawking  gloves, 
hunting-poles,  and  other  instruments  of  sylvan  sport.  These 
relics  brought,  as  it  were,  in  living  form  before  her  the 
stately  presence  of  old  Sir  Raymond.  "  Frown  not,  my 
father" — her  lips  formed  the  words,  though  her  voice  did 
not  utter  them — "  frown  not :  Eveline  will  never  be  un- 
worthy of  thee." 

Father  Aldrovand  and  Amelot,  the  page  of  Damian,  were 
seated  by  the  bedside.  They  rose  as  Lady  Eveline  entered  ; 
and  the  first,  who  meddled  a  little  with  the  healing  art,  said 
to  Eveline,  that  "  The  knight  had  slumbered  for  some  time, 
and  was  now  about  to  awake." 

Amelot  at  the  same  time  came  forward,  and  in  a  hasty  and 
low  voice  begged  that  the  chamber  might  be  kept  quiet  and 
the  spectators  requested  to  retire.  "  My  lord,"  he  said,  "  ever 
since  his  illness  at  (rloucester,  is  apt  to  speak  something 


THE  BETRO THED  '  239 

wildly  as  he  awakes  from  sleep,  and  will  be  displeased  with 
me  should  1  permit  any  one  to  be  near  him/' 

Eveline  accordingly  caused  her  women  and  the  monk  to  re- 
tire into  the  ante-room,  while  she  herself  remained  standing 
by  the  door-communication  which  connected  the  apartments, 
and  heard  Damiau  mention  her  name  as  he  turned  him- 
self painfully  on  his  couch.  "  Is  she  safe  and  unharmed  ?" 
was  his  first  question,  and  it  was  asked  with  an  eagerness 
which  intimated  how  far  it  preceded  all  other  considerations. 
When  Amelot  replied  in  the  affirmative,  he  sighed,  as  one 
whose  bosom  is  relieved  from  some  weighty  load,  and,  in  a 
less  animated  voice,  asked  of  the  page  where  they  were. 
*'This  apartment,"  he  said,  "with  its  furniture,  are  all 
strange  to  me." 

"  My  dear  master,"  said  Amelot,  "  you  are  at  present  too 
weak  to  ask  questions  and  receive  explanations." 

"  Be  I  where  I  will,"  said  Damian,  as  if  recovering  his  rec- 
ollection, "  I  am  not  in  the  place  where  my  duty  calls  me. 
Tell  my  trumpets  to  sound  to  horse — to  horse,  and  let  Kalph 
Genvil  carry  my  banner.  To  horse — to  horse  !  we  have  not  a 
moment  to  lose." 

The  wounded  knight  made  some  effort  to  rise,  which,  in 
his  state  of  weakness,  Amelot  was  easily  able  to  frustrate. 
"  Thou  art  right,"  he  said,  as  he  sunk  back  into  his  reclin- 
ing posture — "  thou  art  right,  I  am  weak  ;  but  why  should 
strength  remain  when  honor  is  lost  ?" 

The  unhappy  young  man  covered  his  face  with  his  hands, 
and  groaned  in  agony,  which  seemed  more  that  of  the  mind 
than  of  the  body.  Lady  Eveline  approached  his  bedside  with 
unassured  steps,  fearing  she  knew  not  what,  yet  earnest  to 
testify  the  interest  which  she  felt  in  the  distress  of  the  suf- 
ferer. Damian  looked  up  and  beheld  her,  and  again  hid  his 
face  with  his  hands. 

"  What  means  this  strange  passion,  sir  knight  ?"  said  Eve- 
line, with  a  voice  which,  at  first  weak  and  trembling,  gradu- 
ally obtained  steadiness  and  composure.  "  Ought  it  to  grieve 
you  so  much,  sworn  as  you  are  to  the  duties  of  chivalry,  that 
Heaven  hath  twice  made  you  its  instrument  to  save  the  un- 
fortunate Eveline  Berenger  ?" 

"■  0  no — no  ! "  he  exclaimed  with  rapidity  ;  "  since  you  are 
saved,  all  is  well ;  but  time  presses — it  is  necessary  I  should 
presently  depart — nowhere  ought  1  now  to  tarry — least  of 
all  within  this  castle.  Once  more,  Amelot,  let  them  get  to 
horse  ! " 

"  Nay,  my  good  lord,'*  said  the  damsel,  *'  this  must  not 


240  WAVER  LEY  'SOVELS 

be.  As  your  ward,  I  cannot  let  my  guardian  part  thus  sud- 
denly ;  as  a  physician,  I  cannot  allow  my  patient  to  destroy 
himself.     It  is  impossible  that  you  can  brook  the  saddle." 

"A  litter — a  bier — a  cart,  to  drag  forth  the  dishonored 
knight  and  traitor — all  were  too  good  for  me — a  coffin 
were  best  of  all  !  But  see,  Amelot,  that  it  be  framed  like 
that  of  the  meanest  churl  :  no  spurs  dis])layed  on  the  pall,  no 
shield  with  the  ancient  coat  of  the  De  Lacys,  no  helmet  with 
their  knightly  crest  must  deck  the  hearse  of  him  whose  name 
is  dishonored  ! " 

"  Is  his  brain  unsettled,"  said  Eveline,  looking  with  terror 
from  the  wounded  man  to  his  attendant ;  "  or  is  there  some 
dreadful  mystery  in  these  broken  words  ?  If  so,  speak  it 
forth  ;  and  if  it  may  be  amended  by  life  or  goods,  my  de- 
liverer will  sustain  no  wrong." 

Amelot  regarded  her  with  a  dejected  and  melancholy  air, 
shook  his  head,  and  looked  down  on  his  master  with  a  coun- 
tenance which  seemed  to  express  that  the  questions  which 
she  asked  could  not  be  prudently  answered  in  Sir  Damian^s 
presence.  The  Lady  Eveline,  observing  this  gesture,  stepped 
back  into  the  outer  apartment,  and  made  Amelot  a  sign  to 
follow  her.  He  obeyed,  after  a  glance  at  his  master,  who  re- 
mained in  the  same  disconsolate  posture  as  formerly,  with 
his  hands  crossed  over  his  eyes,  like  one  who  wished  to  ex- 
clude the  light  and  all  which  the  light  made  visible. 

When  Amelot  was  in  the  wardrobe,  Eveline,  making  signs 
to  her  attendants  to  keep  at  such  distance  as  the  room  per- 
mitted, questioned  him  closely  on  the  cause  of  his  luaster's 
desperate  expression  of  sorrow  and  remorse.  "  Thou 
knowest,"  she  said,  "  that  I  am  bound  to  succor  thy  lord,  if 
I  may,  both  from  gratitude,  as  one  Avhom  he  hath  served  to 
the  peril  of  his  life,  and  also  from  kinsmanship.  Tell  me, 
therefore,  in  what  case  he  stands,  that  I  may  help  him  if  I 
can  ;  that  is,"  she  added,  her  pale  cheeks  deeply  coloring, 
"if  the  cause  of  his  distress  be  fitting  for  me  to  hear." 

'JMie  page  bowed  low,  yet  showed  such  embarrassment  when 
he  began  to  speak  as  produced  a  corresponding  degree  of  con- 
fusion in  the  Lady  Eveline,  who,  nevertheless,  urged  him  as 
before  "  to  speak  without  scruple  or  delay — so  that  the  tenor 
of  liis  discourse  was  fitting  for  her  ears." 

"  Believe  me,  noble  lady,"  said  Amelot,  "  your  commands 
had  been  instantly  obeyed,  but  that  I  fear  my  master's  dis- 
pleasure if  I  talk  of  his  affairs  without  his  warrant  ;  neverthe- 
less, on  your  command,  whom  I  know  he  honors  above  all 
earthly  beings,  I  will  speak  thus  far,  that,  if  his  life  be  safe 


1     'I 


THE  BETROTHED  241 

from  the  wounds  he  has  received,  his  lionor  and  worship 
may  be  in  great  danger,  if  it  please  not  Heaven  to  send  me  a 
remedy." 

"  Speak  on,"  said  Eveline  ;  "  and  be  assured  you  will  do 
Sir  Damian  de  Lacy  no  prejudice  by  the  confidence  you  may 
rest  in  me." 

'•  I  will  believe  it,  lady,"  said  the  page.  "  Know,  then, 
if  it  be  not  already  known  to  you,  that  the  clowns  and  rabble 
who  have  taken  arms  against  the  nobles  in  the  west  pretend 
to  be  favored  in  their  insurrection  not  only  by  Eandal  Lacj, 
but  by  my  master.  Sir  Damian." 

''  They  lie  that  dare  charge  him  with  such  foul  treason  to 
his  own  blood,  as  well  as  to  his  sovereign,"  replied  Eveline. 

"  Well  do  I  believe  they  lie,"  said  Amelot ;  "but  this  hin- 
ders not  their  falsehoods  from  being  believed  by  those  who 
iknow  him  less  inwardly.  More  than  one  runaway  from  our 
troop  have  Joined  this  rabblement,  and  that  gives  some  credit 
to  the  scandal.  And  then  they  say — they  say — that — in 
short,  that  my  master  longs  to  possess  the  lands  in  his 
proper  right  which  he  occupies  as  his  uncle's  administrator  ; 
and  that  if  the  old  Constable — I  crave  your  pardon,  madam — 
should  return  from  Palestine,  he  should  find  it  difficult  to 
obtain  possession  of  his  own  again." 

'•The  sordid  wretches  judge  of  others  by  their  own  base 
minds,  and  conceive  those  temptations  too  powerful  for  men 
of  worth  which  they  are  themselves  conscious  they  would  be 
unable  to  resist.  But  are  the  insurgents  then  so  insolent 
and  so  powerful  ?  We  have  heard  of  their  violences,  but 
only  as  if  it  had  been  some  popular  tumult." 

"  We  had  notice  last  night  that  they  have  drawn  together 
in  great  force,  and  besieged  or  blockaded  Wild  Wenlock. 
with  his  men-at-arms,  in  a  village  about  ten  miles  hence. 
He  hath  sent  to  my  master,  as  his  kinsman  and  companion- 
at-arms,  to  come  to  his  assistance.  We  were  on  horseback 
this  morning  to  march  to  the  rescue,  when " 

He  paused,  and  seemed  unwilling  to  proceed.  Eveline 
caught  at  the  word.  "  When  ye  heard  of  my  danger  ?  "  she 
said.     "  I  would  ye  had  rather  heard  of  my  death  ! " 

"  Surely,  noble  lady,"  said  the  page,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground,  "  nothing  but  so  strong  a  cause  could  have 
made  my  master  halt  his  troop  and  carry  the  better  part  of 
them  to  the  "Welsh  mountains,  when  his  countryman's  dis- 
tress, and  the  commands  of  the  king's  lieutenant,  soj^eremp- 
tovily  demanded  his  presence  elsewhere." 

'*  I  knew  it,"  she  said — "  I  knew  I  was  born  to  be  his  de- 
xb 


242  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

struction  ;  yet  metliinks  this  is  worse  than  I  dreamed  of, 
when  the  worst  was  in  my  thoughts.  I  feared  to  occasion 
his  death,  not  his  loss  of  fame.  For  God's  sake,  young  Ame- 
lot,  do  what  thou  canst,  and  that  without  loss  of  time  !  Get 
thee  straightway  to  horse,  and  join  to  thy  own  men  as  many 
as  thou  canst  gather  of  mine.  Go — ride,  my  brave  youth — 
show  thy  master's  banner,  and  let  them  see  that  his  forces 
and  his  heart  are  with  them,  though  his  person  be  absent. 
Haste — haste,  for  the  time  is  precious  ! " 

"  But  the  safety  of  this  castle — but  your  own  safety  ? " 
said  the  page.  "  God  knows  how  willingly  I  would  do  aught 
to  save  his  fame  !  But  I  know  my  master's  mood  ;  and  were 
you  to  suffer  by  my  leaving  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  even 
although  I  were  to  save  him  lands,  life,  and  honor  by  my 
doing  so,  I  should  be  more  like  to  taste  of  his  dagger  than 
of  his  thanks  or  bounty.^' 

"Go,  nevertheless,  dear  Amelot,"  said  she  :  "gather  what 
force  thou  canst  make,  and  begone." 

"  You  spur  a  willing  horse,  madam,"  said  the  page,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet ;  "and,  in  the  condition  of  my  master,  I  see 
nothing  better  than  that  his  banner  should  be  displayed 
against  these  churls. '^ 

"To  arms,  then,"  said  Eveline,  hastily — "to  arms,  and 
win  thy  spurs.  Bring  me  assurance  that  thy  master's  honor 
is  safe,  and  I  will  myself  buckle  them  on  thy  heels.  Here 
— take  this  blessed  rosary,  bind  it  on  thy  crest,  and  be  the 
thought  of  the  Virgin  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  that  never 
failed  a  votary,  strong  with  thee  in  the  hour  of  conflict." 

She  had  scarcely  ended,  ere  Amelot  flew  from  her  presence, 
and  summoning  together  such  horse  as  he  could  assemble, 
both  of  his  master's  and  of  those  belonging  to  the  castle, 
there  were  soon  forty  cavaliers  mounted  in  the  courtyard. 

But  although  the  page  was  thus  far  readily  obeyed,  yet 
when  the  soldiers  heard  they  were  to  go  forth  on  a  dangerous 
expedition,  with  no  more  experienced  general  than  a  youth 
of  fifteen,  they  showed  a  decided  reluctance  to  move  from  the 
castle.  The  old  soldiers  of  De  Lacy  said,  "  Damian  himself 
was  almost  too  youthful  to  command  them,  and  had  no  right 
to  delegate  his  authority  to  a  mere  boy  ;  "  while  the  followers 
of  Berenger  said.  "Their  mistress  might  be  satisfied  with 
her  deliverance  of  the  morning,  without  trying  farther  dan- 
gerous conclusions  by  diminishing  the  garrison  of  her  castle. 
The  times,"  they  said,  "  were  stormy,  and  it  was  wisest  to 
keep  a  stone  roof  over  their  heads." 

The  more  the  soldiers  communicated  their  ideas  and  ap* 


THE  BETROTHED  243 

prehensions  to  each  other,  the  stronger  their  disinclination 
to  the  undertaking  became  _;  and  when  Amelot,  who,  page- 
like, had  gone  to  see  that  his  own  horse  was  accoutered  and 
brought  forth,  returned  to  the  castle-yard,  he  found  them 
standing  confusedly  together,  some  mounted,  some  on  foot, 
all  men  speaking  loud,  and  all  in  a  state  of  disorder.  Ralph 
Genvil,  a  veteran  whose  face  was  seamed  with  many  a  scar, 
and  who  had  long  followed  the  trade  of  a  soldier  of  fortune, 
stood  apart  from  the  rest,  holding  his  horse's  bridle  in  one 
hand,  and  in  the  other  the  banner-spear,  around  which  the 
banner  of  De  Lacy  was  still  folded. 

"What  means  this,  Genvil?"  said  the  page,  angrily. 
"  Why  do  you  not  mount  your  horse  and  display  the  banner? 
and  what  occasions  all  this  confusion  ?" 

"Truly,  sir  page,"  said  Genvil,  composedly,  "lam  not  in 
my  saddle,  because  I  have  some  regard  for  this  old  silken 
rag,  which  I  have  borne  to  honor  in  my  time,  and  I  will  not 
willingly  carry  it  where  men  are  unwilling  to  follow  and  de- 
fend it." 

"JSTo  march — no  sally — no  lifting  of  banner  to-day!" 
cried  the  soldiers,  by  way  of  burden  to  the  bannerman's 
discourse. 

"  How  now,  cowards,  do  you  mutiny  ?"  said  Amelot,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  his  sword. 

"  Menace  not  me,  sir  boy,"  said  Genvil,  "  nor  shake  your 
sword  my  way.  I  tell  thee,  Amelot,  were  my  weapon  to 
cross  with  yours,  never  flail  sent  abroad  more  chaff  than  I 
would  make  splinters  of  your  hatched  and  gilded  toasting- 
iron.  Look  you,  there  are  gray-bearded  men  here  that  care 
not  to  be  led  about  on  any  boy's  humor.  For  me,  I  stand 
little  upon  that,  and  I  care  not  whether  one  boy  or  another 
commands  me.  But  I  am  theLacy's  man  for  the  time  ;  and 
I  am  not  sure  that,  in  marching  to  the  aid  of  this  Wild 
Wenlock,  we  shall  do  an  errand  the  Lacy  will  thank  us  for. 
Why  led  he  us  not  thither  in  the  morning,  when  we  were 
commanded  off  into  the  mountains  ?  " 

"  You  well  know  the  cause,"  said  the  page. 

"  Yes,  we  do  know  the  cause  ;  or,  if  we  do  not,  we  can 
guess  it,"  answered  the  bannerman,  with  a  horse-laugh, 
which  was  echoed  by  several  of  his  companions. 

"I  will  cram  the  calumny  down  thy  false  throat,  Genvil  !" 
said  the  page  ;  and,  drawing  his  sword,  threw  himselt*  head- 
long on  the  bannerman,  without  considering  their  great 
difference  of  strength. 

Genvil  was  contented  to  foil  his  attack  bj  one,  and,  as  it 


244  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

seemed,  a  slight,  movement  of  his  gigantic  arm,  with  which 
he  forced  the  page  aside,  parrying,  at  the  same  time,  his 
blow  with  the  standard  spear. 

There  was  anotlier  loud  langh,  and  Amelot,  feeling  all  his 
efforts  baffled,  threw  his  sword  from  him,  and,  weeping  in 
pride  and  indignation,  hastened  back  to  tell  the  Lady 
Eveline  of  his  bad  success.  "All,''  he  said,  "is  lost:  the 
cowardly  villains  have  mutinied,  and  will  not  move  ;  and 
the  blarne  of  their  sloth  and  faint-heartedness  will  be  laid  on 
my  dear  master  !  " 

''That  shall  never  be,"  said  Eveline,  ''should  I  die  to 
prevent  it.     Follow  me,  Amelot." 

She  hastily  threw  a  scarlet  scarf  over  her  dark  garments, 
and  hastened  down  to  the  courtyard,  followed  by  Gillian, 
assuming,  as  she  went,  various  attitudes  and  actions,  express- 
ing astonishment  and  pity,  and  by  Rose,  carefully  suppressing 
all  appearance  of  the  feelings  which  she  really  entertained. 

Eveline  entered  the  castle-court,  with  the  kindling  eye 
and  glowing  brow  which  her  ancestors  were  wont  to  bear  in 
danger  and  extremity,  when  their  soul  was  arming  to  meet 
the  storm,  and  displayed  in  their  mien  and  looks  high  com- 
mand and  contempt  of  danger.  She  seemed  at  the  moment 
taller  than  her  usual  size  ;  and  it  was  with  a  voice  distinct 
and  clearly  heard,  though  not  exceeding  the  delicacy  of 
feminine  tone,  that  the  mutineers  heard  her  address  them. 
''How  is  this,  my  masters  ?"  she  said;  and  as  she  spoke, 
the  bulky  forms  of  the  armed  soldiers  seemed  to  draw  closer 
together,  as  if  to  escape  her  individual  censure.  It  was  like 
a  group  of  heavy  waterfowl,  Avhen  they  close  to  avoid  the 
stoop  of  the  slight  and  beautiful  merlin,  dreading  the  supe- 
riority of  its  nature  and  breeding  over  their  own  inert  physical 
strength.  "  How  now  ?  "  again  she  demanded  of  them  ;  "  is 
it  a  time,  think  ye,  to  mutiny,  when  your  lord  is  absent,  and 
his  nephew  and  lieutenant  lies  stretched  on  a  bed  of  sickness  ? 
It  is  thus  you  keep  your  oaths  ?  Thus  ye  merit  your  leader's 
bounty  ?  Shame  on  ye,  craven  hounds,  that  quail  and  give 
back  the  instant  you  lose  sight  of  the  huntsman  !" 

There  was  a  pause  ;  the  soldiers  looked  on  each  other,  and 
then  again  on.  Eveline,  as  if  ashamed  alike  to  hold  out  in 
their  mutiny  or  to  return  to  their  usual  discipline. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,  my  brave  friends — ye  lack  a  leader  here  ; 
but  stay  not  for  that — I  will  guide  you  myself,  and,  woman 
as  I  am,  there  need  not  a  man  of  you  fear  disgrace  where  a 
Berenger  commands.  Trap  my  palfrey  with  a  steel  saddle," 
she  said^  "and  that   instantly."     She   snatched  from  the 


TUE  BETROTHED  245 

ground  the  page's  liglit  headpiece,  and  threw  it  over  her 
hair,  caught  up  liis  drawn  sword,  and  went  on.  *'  Here  I 
promise  you  my  countenance  and  guidance  ;  this  gentleman," 
she  pointed  to  Genvil,  "shall  supply  my  lack  of  military 
skill.  He  looks  like  a  man  that  hath  seen  many  a  day  of 
battle,  and  can  well  teach  a  young  leader  her  devoir." 

"  Certes,"  said  the  old  soldier,  smiling  in  spite  of  himself, 
and  shaking  his  head  at  the  same  time,  "  many  a  battle  have 
I  seen,  but  never  under  such  a  commander." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Eveline,  seeing  how  the  eyes  of  the 
rest  turned  on  Genvil,  "  you  do  not — cannot — will  not — 
refuse  to  follow  me  ?  You  do  not  as  a  soldier,  for  my  weak 
voice  supplies  your  captain's  orders  ;  you  cannot  as  a  gentle- 
man, for  a  lady,  a  forlorn  and  distressed  female,  asks  you  a 
boon  ;  you  will  not  as- an  Englishman,  for  your  country 
!  requires  your  sword,  and  your  comrades  are  in  danger. 
Unfurl  your  banner,  then,  and  march." 

''I  would  do  so,  upon  my  soul,  fair  lady,"  answered  Gen- 
vil, as  if  preparing  to  unfold  the  banner,  "  and  Amelot  might 
lead  us  well  enough,  with  advantage  of  some  lessons  from 
me,  but  I  wot  not  whether  you  are  sending  us  on  the  right 
road." 

"Surely — surely,"  said  Eveline,  earnestly,  "it  must  be 
the  right  road  which  conducts  you  to  the  relief  of  Wenlock 
and  his  followers,  besieged  by  the  insurgent  boors." 

"I  know  not,"  said  Genvil,  still  hesitating.  "  Our  leader 
here.  Sir  Damian  de  Lacy,  protects  the  commons — men  say 
he  befriends  them  ;  and  I  know  he  quarreled  with  Wild 
Wenlock  once  for  some  petty  wrong  he  did  to  the  miller's 
wife  [daughter]  at  Twyford.  We  should  be  finely  off,  when 
our  fiery  young  leader  is  on  foot  again,  if  he  should  find  we 
had  been  fighting  against  the  side  he  favored." 

"  Assure  yourself,"  said  the  maiden,  anxiously,  "  the  more 
he  would  protect  the  commons  against  oppression,  the  more 
he  would  put  them  down  when  oppressing  others.  Mount 
and  ride,  save  Wenlock  and  his  men  ;  there  is  life  and  death 
in  every  moment.  I  will  warrant,  with  my  life  and  lands, 
that  whatsoever  you  do  will  be  held  good  service  to  De  Lacy. 
Come,  then,  follow  me." 

"  None  surely  can  know  Sir  Damian's  purpose  better  than 
you,  fair  damsel,  "  answered  Genvil ;  "nay,  for  that  matter, 
you  can  make  him  change  as  ye  list.  And  so  I  will  march  with 
the  men,  and  we  will  aid  Wenlock,  if  it  is  yet  time,  as  I  trust 
it  may  ;  for  he  is  a  rugged  wolf,  and  when  he  turns  to  bay 
will  cost  the  boors  blood  enough  ere  they  sound  a  mort.     But 


246  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

do  you  remain  within  the  castle,  fair  lady,  and  trust  to  Ame- 
lot  and  me.  Come,  sir  page,  assume  the  command,  since  so 
it  must  be  ;  though,  bj  my  faith,  it  is  pity  to  take  the  head- 
piece from  that  pretty  head  and  the  sword  from  that  pretty 
hand.  By  St.  George!  to  see  them  there  is  a  credit  to  the 
soldier's  profession." 

The  lady  accordingly  surrendered  the  weapons  to  Amelot, 
exhorting  him  in  few  words  to  forget  the  offense  be  bad 
received,  and  do  his  devoir  manfully.  Meanwhile,  Genvil 
slowly  unrolled  the  pennon,  then  shook  it  abroad,  and,  with- 
out putting  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  aided  himself  a  little  with 
resting  on  the  spear,  and  threw  himself  into  the  saddle,  heavi- 
ly armed  as  he  was.  "We  are  ready  now,  an  it  like  your  ju- 
venility," said  he  to  Amelot ;  and  then,  while  the  page  was 
putting  the  band  into  order,  he  whispered  to  his  nearest 
comrade,  "Methinks,  instead  of  this  old  swallow's  tail,*  we 
should  muster  rarely  under  a  broidered  petticoat:  a  furbe- 
lowed  petticoat  bas  no  fellow  in  my  mind.  Look  you,  Ste- 
phen Pontoys,  I  can  forgive  Damian  now  for  forgetting  his 
uncle  and  his  own  credit  about  this  wench  ;  for,  by  my  faith, 
she  is  one  I  could  have  doated  to  death  upon  pa?-  amours. 
Ah!  evil  luck  be  the  women's  portion  !  they  govern  us  at 
every  turn,  Stephen,  and  at  every  age.  When  they  are 
young,  they  bribe  us  with  fair  looks  and  sugared  words, 
sweet  kisses  and  love  tokens  ;  and  when  they  are  of  middle 
age,  they  work  us  to  their  will  by  presents  and  courtesies, 
red  wine  and  red  gold  ;  and  wben  they  are  old,  we  are  fain  to 
run  their  errands  to  get  out  of  sight  of  their  old  leathern  vis- 
ages. Well,  old  De  Lacy  should  have  stayed  at  home  and 
watched  his  falcon.  But  it  is  all  one  to  us,  Stephen,  and  we 
may  make  some  vantage  to-day,  for  these  boors  have  plun- 
dered more  than  one  castle." 

"  Ay — ay,"  answered  Pontoys,  "the  boor  to  the  booty,  and 
the  bannerman  to  the  boor,  a  right  pithy  proverb.  But,  pri- 
thee, canst  thou  say  why  his  pageship  leads  us  not  forward 
yet?" 

"  Pshaw  ! "  answered  Genvil,  "  the  shake  I  gave  him  has 
addled  his  brains  ;  or  perchance  he  has  not  swallowed  all  his 
tears  yet ;  sloth  it  is  not,  for'tis  a  forward  cockeril  for  his 
years,  wherever  honor  is  to  be  won.  See  they  now  begin  to 
move.  Well,  it  is  a  singular  thing  tbis  gentle  blood,  Ste- 
phen ;  for  here  is  a  child  whom  I  but  now  baffled  like  a 
Bchooboy  must  lead  us  graybeards  where  we  may  get  our 
heads  broken,  and  that  at  the  command  of  a  light  kdy." 
*  See  Knight's  Pennon.    Note  11. 


THE  BETROTHED  247 

*'  I  warrant  Sir  Damian  is  secretary  to  my  pretty  lady/* 
answered  Stephen  Pontoys,  "  as  this  springald  Amelot  is  to 
Sir  Damian ;  and  so  we  poor  men  must  obey  and  keep  our 
mouths  shut/' 

"  But  our  eyes  open,  Stephen  Pontoys  ;  forget  not  that/* 

They  were  by  this  time  out  of  the  gates  of  the  castle,  and 
upon  the  road  leading  to  the  village,  in  which,  as  they  under- 
stood by  the  intelligence  of  the  morning,  Wenlockwas  besieged 
or  blockaded  by  a  greatly  superior  number  of  the  insurgent 
commons.  Amelot  rode  at  the  head  of  the  troop,  still  embar- 
rassed by  the  affront  which  he  had  received  in  presence  of  the 
soldiers,  and  lost  in  meditating  how  he  was  to  eke  out  that 
deficiency  of  experience  which  on  former  occasions  had  been 
supplied  by  the  counsels  of  the  bannerman,  with  whom  he  was 
ashamed  to  seek  a  reconciliation.  But  Genvil  was  not  of  a 
nature  absolutely  sullen,  though  an  habitual  grumbler.  He 
rode  up  to  the  page,  and  having  made  his  obeisance,  respect- 
fully asked  him  whether  it  were  not  well  that  some  one  or  two 
of  their  number  pricked  forward  upon  good  horses  to  learn 
how  it  stood  with  Wenlock,  and  whether  they  should  be  able 
to- come  up  in  time  to  his  assistance. 

"^  Methinks,  bannerman,"  answered  Amelot,  ''you  should 
take  the  ruling  of  the  troop,  since  you  know  so  fittingly  what 
should  be  done.  You  may  be  the  fitter  to  command, 
because But  I  will  not  upbraid  you." 

"Because  I  know  so  ill  how  to  obey,"  replied  Genvil — "  that 
is  what  you  would  say  ;  and,  by  my  faith,  I  cannot  deny  but 
there  may  be  some  truth  in  it.  But  is  it  not  peevish  in  thee 
to  let  a  fair  expedition  be  unwisely  conducted,  because  of  a 
foolish  word  or  a  sudden  action?  Come,  let  it  be  peace 
v/ith  us." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  answered  Amelot ;  "  and  I  will  send 
out  an  advanced  party  upon  the  adventure,  as  thou  hast 
advised  me." 

"  Let  it  be  old  Stephen  Pontoys  and  two  of  the  Chester 
spears  :  he  is  as  wily  as  an  old  fox,  and  neither  hope  nor  fear 
will  draw  him  a  hairbreadth  farther  than  judgment  war- 
rants." 

Amelot,  eagerly  embraced  the  hint,  and,  at  his  command, 
Pontoys  and  two  lances  darted  foi'ward  to  reconnoiter  the 
road  before  them,  and  inquire  into-  the  condition  of  those 
whom  they  were  advancing  to  succor.  "  And  now  that  we  are 
on  the  old  terms,  sir  page,"  said  tl:ie  bannerman,  "  tell  me, 
if  thou  canst,  doth  not  yonder  fair  lady  love  our  handsome 
knight  ^ar  amours  9  " 


248  WAVEELEY  yOVELS 

"It  is  a  false  calumny,"  said  Amelot  indignantly;  ''betrothed 
as  she  is  to  his  uncle,  I  am  convinced  she  would  rather  die 
than  to  have  such  a  thought,  and  so  would  our  master.  I 
have  noted  this  heretical  belief  in  thee  before  now,  Genvil, 
and  I  have  prayed  thee  to  check  it.  You  know  the  thing 
cannot  be,  for  you  know  they  have  scarce  ever  met." 

"  How  should  I  know  that,"  said  Genvil,  "  or  thou 
either  ?  Watch  them  ever  so  close — much  water  slides  j^ast 
the  mill  that  Hob  Miller  never  wots  of.  They  do  correspond  ; 
that,  at  least,  thou  canst  not  deny." 

"  I  do  deny  it,"  said  Amelot,  "  as  I  deny  all  that  can 
touch  their  honor." 

"  Then  how,  in  Heaven's  name,  comes  he  by  such  perfect 
knowledge  of  her  motions  as  he  has  displayed  no  longer  since 
than  the  morning  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  tell  ?  "  answered  the  page.  ''  There  be 
such  things,  surely,  as  saints  and  good  angels,  and  if  there 
be  one  on  earth  deserves  their  protection,  it  is  Dame  Eveline 
Berenger." 

"  Well  said,  master  counsel-keeper,"  replied  Genvil,  laugh- 
ing, "  but  that  will  hardly  pass  on  an  old  trooper.  Saints 
and  angels,  quotha  !  most  saint-like  doings,  I  warrant  you." 

The  page  was  about  to  continue  his  angry  vindication,  when 
Stephen  Pontoys  and  his  followers  returned  upon  the  spur. 
"  Wenlock  holds  out  bravel}^,"  he  exclaimed,  "  though  he 
is  felly  girded  in  with  these  boors.  The  large  cross-bows 
are  doing  good  service  ;  and  I  little  doubt  his  making  his 
place  good  till  we  come  up,  if  it  pleases  you  to  ride  some- 
thing sharply.  They  have  assailed  the  barriers,  and  were 
close  up  to  them  even  now,  but  were  driven  back  with  small 
success." 

The  party  were  now  put  in  as  rapid  motion  as  might  con- 
sist with  order,  and  soon  reached  the  top  of  a  small  eminence, 
beneath  which  lay  the  village  where  Wenlock  was  making  his 
defense.  The  air  rung  with  the  cries  and  shouts  of  the 
insurgents,  who,  numerous  as  bees,  and  possessed  of  that 
dogged  spirit  of  courage  so  peculiar  to  the  English,  thronged 
like  ants  to  the  barriers,  and  endeavored  to  break  down  the 
palisades,  or  to  climb  over  them,  in  despite  of  the  showers 
of  stones  and  arrows  from  within,  by  which  they  suffered 
great  loss,  as  well  as  by  the  swords  and  battle-axes  of  the 
men-at-arms,  wlienever  they  came  to  hand-blows. 

"  We  are  in  time — we  are  in  time,"  said  Amelot,  dropping 
the  reins  of  his  bridle  and  joyfully  clapping  his  hands  ;  '*  shake 
thy  banner  abroad,  Genvil— give  Wenlock  and  his  fellows  a 


THE  BETROTHED  249 

fair  view  of  it.  Comrades,  halt — breathe  your  horses  for  a 
moment.  Hark  hither,  Genvil.  If  we  descend  by  yonder 
broad  pathway  into  the  meadow  where  tlie  cattle  are " 

"  Bravo,  my  young  falcon  !  "  replied  Genvil,  whose  love  of 
battle,  like  that  of  the  war-horse  of  Job,  kindled  at  the  sight 
of  the  spears  and  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet ;  we  shall  have 
then  an  easy  field  for  a  charge  on  yonder  knaves." 

"What  a  thick  black  cloud  the  villains  make  !"  said 
Amelot ;  but  we  will  let  daylight  through  it  with  our  lances. 
See.  Genvil,  the  defenders  hoist  a  signal  to  show  they  have 
seen  us." 

"  A  signal  to  us  ! "  exclaimed  Genvil.  "  By  Heaven,  it  is 
a  white  flag — a  signal  of  surrender  !" 

"  Surrender  !  they  cannot  dream  of  it,  when  we  are 
advancing  to  their  succor,"  replied  Amelot  ;  when  two  or 
three  melancholy  notes  from  the  trumpets  of  the  besieged, 
with  a  thundering  and  tumultuous  acclamation  from  the 
besiegers,  rendered  the  fact  indisputable. 

"Down  goes  Wenlock's  pennon,"  said  Genvil,  "and  the 
churls  enter  the  barricades  on  all  points.  Here  has  been 
cowardice  or  treachery.     What  is  to  be  done  ?" 

"Advance  on  them,"  said  Amelot,  "retake  the  place,  and 
deliver  the  prisoners." 

"Advance,  indeed  !"  answered  the  bannerman, — "not  a 
horse's  length  by  my  counsel  ;  we  should  have  every  nail  in 
our  corslets  counted  with  arrow-shot  before  we  got  down  the 
hill  in  the  face  of  such  a  multitude  ;  and  the  place  to  storm 
afterwards — it  were  mere  insanity." 

"  Yet  come  a  little  forward  along  with  me,"  said  the  page  ; 
"  perhaps  we  may  find  some  path  by  which  we  could  descend 
Tinjjerceived." 

According  they  rode  forward  a  little  way  to  reconnoiter 
the  face  of  the  hill,  the  page  still  urging  the  possibility  of 
descending  it  unperceived  amid  the  confusion,  when  Genvil 
answered  impatiently,  "Unperceived!  you  are  already  per- 
ceived :  here  comes  a  fellow,  pricking  towards  us  as  fast  as 
his  beast  may  trot." 

As  he  spoke,  the  rider  came  up  to  them.  He  was  a  short, 
thickset  peasant,  in  an  ordinary  frieze  jacket  and  hose,  with 
a  blue  cap  on  his  head,  which  he  had  been  scarcely  able  to 
pull  over  a  shock  head  of  red  hair,  that  seemed  in  arms  to 
repel  the  covering.  The  man's  hands  were  bloody,  and  he 
carried  at  his  saddlebow  a  linen  bag,  wliich  was  also  stained 
with  blood.  "  Ye  be  of  Damiau  de  Lacy's  company,  be  ye 
not  ?"  said  this  rude  messenger  ;  and,  when  they  answered 


250  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

in  the  affirmative,  he  proceeded  with  the  same  blunt  cour- 
tesy, "  Hob  Miller  of  Twyford  commends  him  to  Damian  de 
Lacy,  and,  knowing  his  purpose  to  amend  disorders  in  the 
commonwealth.  Hob  Miller  sends  him  toll  of  the  grist  which 
he  hath  grinded  ;  "  and  with  that  he  took  from  the  bag  a 
human  head  and  tendered  it  to  Amelot. 

*'  It  is  Wenlock's  head,"  said  Genvil ;  "  how  his  eyes 
stare  ! " 

"  They  will  stare  after  no  more  wenches  now,"  said  the 
boor  ;  ''  I  have  cured  him  of  caterwauling." 

"  Thou  ! "  said  Amelot,  stepping  back  in  disgust  and  in- 
dignation. 

"Yes,  I  myself,"  replied  the  peasant;  "I  am  Grand 
Justiciary  of  the  Commons,  for  lack  of  a  better." 

"  Grand  hangman,  thou  wouldst  say,"  replied  Genvil. 

"Call  it  what  thou  list,"  replied  the  peasant.  "Truly, 
it  behooves  men  in  state  to  give  good  example.  _  T'll  bid  no 
man  do  that  I  am  not  ready  to  do  myself.  It  is  as  easy  to 
hang  a  man  as  to  say  "  hang  him  "  ;  we  will  have  no  split- 
ting of  offices  in  this  new  world  which  is  happily  set  up  in 
Old  England." 

"  Wretch  !"  said  Amelot,  "  take  back  thy  bloody  token  to 
them  that  sent  thee.  Hadst  thou  not  come  upon  assurance, 
I  had  pinned  thee  to  the  earth  with  my  lance.  But,  be  as- 
sured, your  cruelty  shall  be  fearfully  avenged.  Come,  Gen- 
vil, let  us  to  our  men  ;  there  is  no  farther  use  in  abiding 
here." 

The  fellow,  who  had  expected  a  very  different  reception, 
stood  staring  after  them  for  a  few  moments,  then  replaced 
his  bloody  trophy  in  the  wallet,  and  rode  back  to  them  Avho 
sent  him. 

"  This  come:  of  meddling  with  men's  amourettes,"  said 
Genvil:  "Sir  Damian  would  needs  brawl  with  Wenlock 
about  his  dealings  with  this  miller's  daughter  [wife],  and 
you  see  they  account  him  a  favorer  to  their  enterprise  ;  it 
will  be  well  if  others  do  not  take  up  the  same  opinion.  I 
wish  we  were  rid  of  the  trouble  which  such  suspicions  may 
bring  upon  us — ay,  were  it  at  the  price  of  my  best  horse.  I 
am  like  to  lose  him  at  any  rate  Avith  the  day's  hard  service, 
and  I  would  it  were  the  worst  it  is  to  cost  us." 

The  party  returned,  wearied  and  discomforted,  to  the 
castle  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  and  not  without  losing 
several  of  their  number  by  the  way — some  straggling  owing 
to  the  weariness  of  their  horses,  and  other  taking  the  op- 
portunity of  desertion,  in  order  to  join  with  the  bands  of 


THE  BETROTHED  251 

insurgents  and  plunderers,  who  had  now  gathered  together 
in  different  quarters,  and  were  augmented  by  recruits  from 
the  dissolute  soldiery. 

Amelot,  on  his  return  to  the  castle,  found  that  the  state 
of  his  master  was  still  very  precarious,  and  that  the  Lady 
Eveline,  though  much  exhausted,  had  not  yet  retired  to 
rest,  but  was  awaiting  his  return  with  impatience.  He  was 
introduced  to  her  accordingly,  and,  with  a  heavy  heart, 
mentioned  the  ineffectual  event  of  his  expedition. 

"Now  the  saints  have  pity  upon  us!"  said  the  Lady 
Eveline  ;  "  for  it  seems  as  if  a  jjlague  or  pest  attached  to 
me,  and  extended  itself  to  all  who  interest  themselves  in  my 
welfare.  From  the  moment  they  do  so,  their  very  virtues 
become  snares  to  them  ;  and  what  would,  in  every  other 
case,  recommend  them  to  honor  is  turned  to  destruction  to 
the  friends  of  Eveline  Berenger." 

"  Fear  not,  fair  lady,"  said  Amelot  ;  "  there  are  still  men 
enough  in  my  master's  camp  to  put  down  these  disturbers  of 
the  jDublic  peace.  I  will  but  abide  to  receive  his  instruc- 
tions, and  will  hence  to-morrow,  and  draw  out  a  force  to 
restore  quiet  in  this  part  of  the  country." 

"  Alas  !  you  know  not  yet  the  worst  of  it,"  replied  Eveline. 
"Since  you  went  hence,  we  have  received  certain  notice 
that,  when  the  soldiers  at  Sir  Damian's  camp  heard  of  the  ac- 
cident which  he  this  morning  met  Avith,  already  discontented 
with  the  inactive  life  which  they  had  of  late  led,  and  dis- 
pirited by  the  hurts  and  reported  deatli  of  their  leader,  they 
have  altogether  broken  up  and  dispersed  their  forces.  Yet 
be  of  good  courage,  Amelot,"she  said  ;  ''this  house  is  strong 
enough  to  bear  out  a  worse  tempest  tlian  any  that  is  likely 
to  be  poured  on  it ;  and  if  all  men  desert  your  master  in 
wounds  and  affliction,  it  becomes  yet  more  tlie  part  of  Eve- 
line Berenger  to  shelter  and  protect  her  deliverer." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

Let  our  proud  trumpet  shake  their  castle  wall, 
Menacing  death  and  ruin. 

Otway. 

The  evil  news  with  which  the  last  chapter  concluded  were 
necessarily  told  to  Damian  de  Lacy,  as  the  person  whom 
they  chieily  concerned  ;  and  Lady  Eveline  herself  undertook 
the  task  of  communicating  them,  mingling  what  she  said 
with  tears,  and  again  interrupting  those  tears  to  suggest 
topics  of  liope  and  comfort,  which  carried  no  consolation  to 
her  own  bosom. 

The  wounded  knight  continued  with  his  face  turned  to- 
wards her,  listening  to  the  disastrous  tidings,  as  one  who 
was  no  otherwise  affected  by  them  than  as  they  regarded 
her  who  told  the  story.  When  she  had  done  speaking,  he 
continued  as  in  a  reverie,  with  his  eyes  so  intently  fixed  upon 
her  that  she  rose  up  with  the  purpose  of  withdrawing  from 
looks  by  which  she  felt  herself  embarrassed.  He  hastened  to 
speak,  that  he  might  prevent  her  departure.  "All  that 
you  have  said,  fair  lady,"  he  replied,  "  had  been  enough, 
if  told  by  another,  to  have  broken  my  heart ;  for  it  tells 
me  that  the  power  and  honor  of  my  house,  so  solemnly 
committed  to  my  charge,  have  been  blasted  in  my  mis- 
fortunes. But  when  I  look  upon  you,  and  hear  your  voice, 
I  forget  everything,  saving  that  you  have  been  rescued  and 
are  here  in  honor  and  safety.  Let  me  therefore  pray  of 
your  goodness  that  I  may  be  removed  from  the  castle  which 
holds  you,  and  sent  elsewhere.  I  am  in  no  shape  worthy 
of  your  farther  care,  since  I  have  no  longer  the  swords  of 
others  at  my  disposal,  and  am  totally  unable  for  the  present 
to  draw  my  own." 

"And  if  you  are  generous  enough  to  think  of  me  in 
your  own  misfortunes,  noble  knight,"  answered  Eveline,, 
"can  you  suppose  that  I  forget  wlierefore,  and  in  whose 
rescue,  these  wounds  were  incurred  ?  No,  Damian,  speak 
not  of  removal  :  while  there  is  a  turret  of  the  Garde 
Doloureuse  standing,  within  that  turret  shall  you  find 
shelter  and  protection.  Such,  I  am  well  assured,  would 
be  the  pleasure  of  your  uncle  were  he  here  in  person." 


THE  BETROTHED  253 

It  seemed  as  if  a  sudden  pang  of  his  wound  had  seized 
upon  Damian  ;  for  rej^eating  the  words,  "My  uncle  \"  he 
writhed  himself  round,  and  averted  his  face  from  Eveline ; 
then  again  composing  himself,  replied,  "  Alas  !  knew  my 
uncle  how  ill  I  have  obeyed  his  precepts,  instead  of  shelter- 
ing me  within  this  house  he  would  command  me  to  be 
flung  from  the  battlements." 

'*  Fear  not  his  displeasure,"  said  Eveline,  again  pre- 
paring to  withdraw  ;  ''  but  endeavor,  by  the  composure  of 
your  spirit,  to  aid  the  healing  of  your  wounds  ;  when  I 
doubt  not,  you  will  be  able  again  to  establish  good  order 
in  the  Constable's  Jurisdiction,  long  before  his  return." 

She  colored  as  she  pronounced  the  last  words,  and  hastily 
left  the  apartment.  When  she  was  in  her  own  chamber, 
she  dismissed  her  other  attendants,  and  retained  Eose. 
*'  What  dost  thou  think  of  these  things,  my  wise  maiden 
and  monitress  ?"  said  she. 

"  I  would,"  replied  Eose,  "  either  that  this  young  knight 
had  never  entered  this  castle,  or  that,  being  here,  he  could 
presently  leave  it,  or  that  he  could  honorably  remain  here 
forever." 

"What  dost  thou  mean  by  remaining  here  forever?" 
said  Eveline,  sharply  and  hastily. 

"  Let  me  answer  that  question  with  another — How  long 
has  the  Constable  of  Chester  been  absent  from  England  ?" 

*'  Three  years  come  St.  Clement's  day,"  said  Eveline ; 
"and  what  of  that?" 

*'  Nay,  nothing  ;  but " 

"  But  what  ?     I  command  you  to  speak  out." 

"  A  few  weeks  will  place  your  hand  at  your  own  disposal." 

*'And  think  you,  Eose,"  said  Eveline,  rising  with  dignity, 
"  that  there  are  no  bonds  save  those  which  are  drawn  by 
the  scribe's  pen  ?  We  know  little  of  the  Constable's  adveri- 
tures  ;  but  we  know  enough  to  show  that  his  towering  hopes 
have  fallen,  and  his  sword  and  courage  proved  too  weak  to 
change  the  fortunes  of  the  Sultan  Saladin.  Suppose  him 
returning  some  brief  time  hence,  as  we  have  seen  so  many 
crusaders  regain  their  homes,  poor  and  broken  in  health  ; 
suppose  that  he  finds  his  lands  laid  waste,  and  his  followers 
dispersed,  by  the  consequence  of  their  late  misfortunes,  how 
would  it  sound  should  he  also  find  that  his  betrothed  bride 
had  wedded  and  endowed  with  her  substance  the  nephew 
whom  he  most  trusted  ?  Dost  thou  think  such  an  engage- 
ment is  like  a  Lombard's  mortgage,  which  must  be  redeemed 
on  the  very  day,  else  forfeiture  is  sure  to  be  awarded  ?  " 


254  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

"I  cannot  tell,  madam/'  replied  Eose  ;  ''but  they  that 
keep  their  covenant  to  the  letter  are,  in  my  country,  held 
bound  to  no  more." 

"  That  is  a  Flemish  fashion.  Rose,''  said  her  mistress ; 
"  but  the  honor  of  a  Norman  is  not  satisfied  with  an  observ- 
ance so  limited.  What  !  wouldst  thou  have  my  honor,  my 
affections,  my  duty,  all  that  is  most  valuable  to  a  woman, 
depend  on  the  same  progress  of  the  calendar  which  an  usurer 
watches  for  the  purpose  of  seizing  on  a  forfeited  pledge  ? 
Am  I  such  a  mere  commodity,  that  I  must  belong  to  one 
man  if  he  claims  me  before  Michaelmas,  to  another  if  he 
comes  afterwards  ?  No,  Rose,  I  did  not  thus  interpret  my 
engagement,  sanctioned  as  it  was  by  the  special  providence 
of  Our  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse." 

"  It  is  a  feeling  worthy  of  you,  my  dearest  lady," 
answered  the  attendant;  ''yet  you  are  so  young,  so  beset 
with  perils,  so  much  exposed  to  calumny,  that  I,  at  least, 
looking  forward  to  the  time  when  you  may  have  a  legal 
companion  and  protector,  see  )t  as  an  extrication  from  much 
doubt  and  danger." 

"  Do  not  think  of  it.  Rose,"  answered  Eveline  :  "do  not 
liken  your  mistress  to  those  provident  dames  who,  while  one 
husband  yet  lives,  though  in  old  age  or  weak  health,  are 
prudently  engaged  in  plotting  for  another." 

"  Enough,  my  dearest  lady," 8aid  Rose  ;  "yet  not  so.  Per- 
mit me  one  word  more.  Sinc'^  you  are  determined  not  to 
avail  yourself  of  your  freedom,  even  when  the  fatal  period 
of  your  engagement  is  expired,  why  suffer  this  young  man  to  ' 
share  our  solitude  ?  He  is  surely  well  enough  to  be  removed 
to  some  other  place  of  security.  Let  us  resume  our  former 
sequestered  mode  of  life,  until  Providence  send  us  some 
better  or  more  certain  prospects." 

Eveline  sighed,  looked  down,  then,  looking  upwards,  once 
more  had  opened  her  lips  to  express  her  willingness  to  en- 
force so  reasonable  an  arrangement,  but  for  Damian's  recent 
wounds,  and  the  distracted  state  of  the  country,  when  she 
was  interrupted  by  the  shrill  sound  of  trumpets,  blown  be- 
fore the  gate  of  the  castle  ;  and  Raoul,  with  anxiety  on  his 
brow,  came  limping  to  inform  his  lady  that  a  knight, 
attended  by  a  pursuivant-at-arms,  in  the  royal  livery,  with 
a  strong  guard,  was  in  front  of  the  castle,  and  demanded 
admittance  in  the  name  of  the  king. 

Evalme  paused  a  moment  ere  she  replied,  "  Not  even  to 
the  icing's  order  shall  the  castle  of  my  ancestors  be  opened, 
until  we  are  well  assured  of  the  person  by  whom,  and  the 


THE  BETROTHED  255 

purpose  for  which,  it  is  demanded.  We  will  onrself  to  the 
gate,  and  learn  the  meaning  of  this  summons.  My  veil, 
Eose  ;  and  call  my  women.  Again  that  trumpet  sounds  ! 
Alas  !  it  rings  like  a  signal  to  death  and  ruin." 

The  prophetic  apprehensions  of  Eveline  were  not  false  ; 
for  scarce  had  she  reached  the  door  of  the  apartment,  when 
she  was  met  by  the  page  Amelot,  in  a  state  of  such  disor- 
dered apprehension  as  an  Sieve  of  chivalry  was  scarce  on  any 
occasion  permitted  to  display.  ' '  Lady — noble  lady,"  he 
said,  hastily  bending  his  knee  to  Eveline,  ''save  my  dearest 
master.  You,  and  you  alone,  can  save  him  at  this  extrem- 
ity." 

"  I ! "  said  Eveline,  in  astonishment — "  I  save  him  !  And 
from  what  danger  ?     God  knows  how  willingly  ! " 

There  she  stopped  short,  as  if  afraid  to  trust  herself  with 
expressing  what  rose  to  her  lips. 

"Guy  Monthermer,  lady,  is  at  the  gate,  with  a  pursuivant 
and  the  royal  banner.  The  hereditary  enemy  of  the  house 
of  Lacy,  thus  accompanied,  comes  hither  for  no  good  :  the 
extent  of  the  evil  I  know  not,  but  for  evil  he  comes.  My 
master  slew  his  nephew  at  the  field  of  Malpas,  and  there- 
fore  "     He  was  here  interrupted  by  another  flourish  of 

trumpets,  which  rung,  as  if  in  shrill  impatience,  through 
the  vaults  of  the  ancient  fortress. 

The  Lady  Eveline  hasted  to  the  gate,  and  found  that  the 
wardens,  and  others  who  attended  there,  were  looking  on 
each  other  with  doubtful  and  alarmed  countenances,  which 
they  turned  upon  her  at  her  arrival,  as  if  to  seek  from  their 
mistress  the  comfort  and  the  courage  which  they  could  not 
communicate  to  each  other.  Without  the  gate,  mounted 
and  in  complete  armor,  Avas  an  elderly  and  stately  knight, 
whose  raised  visor  and  beaver  depressed  showed  a  beard 
already  grizzled.  Beside  him  appeared  the  pursuivant  on 
horseback,  the  royal  arms  embroidered  on  his  heraldic  dress 
of  office,  and  all  the  importance  of  offended  consequence  on 
his  countenance,  which  was  shaded  by  his  barret-cap  and 
triple  plume.  They  were  attended  by  a  body  of  about  fifty 
soldiers,  arranged  under  the  guidon  of  England. 

When  the  Lady  Eveline  appeared  at  the  barrier,  the 
knight,  after  a  slight  reverence,  which  seemed  more  in  for- 
mal courtesy  than  in  kindness,  demanded  if  he  saw  the 
daughter  of  Kaymond  Berenger.  "  And  is  it,"  he  contin- 
ued, when  he  had  received  an  answer  in  the  affirmative, 
"  before  the  castle  of  that  approved  and  favored  servant  of 
the  house  of  Anjou  that  King  Henry's  trumpets  have  thrice 


256  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

sounded  without  obtaining  an  entrance  for  those  who  are 
honored  with  their  sovereign's  command  ?" 

"My  condition,"  answered  Eveline,  "must  excuse  my 
caution.  I  am  a  lone  maiden,  residing  in  a  frontier  fortress. 
I  may  admit  no  one  without  inquiring  his  purpose,  and  being 
assured  that  his  entrance  consists  with  the  safety  of  the  place 
and  mine  own  honor." 

"  Since  you  are  so  punctilious,  lady,"  replied  Monthermer, 
"  know  that,  in  the  present  distracted  state  of  the  country, 
it  is  his  Grace  the  King's  pleasure  to  place  within  your  walls 
a  body  of  men-at-arms  sufficient  to  guard  this  important 
castle  both  from  the  insurgent  peasants,  who  burn  and  slay, 
and  from  the  Welsh,  who,  it  must  be  expected,  will,  accord- 
ing to  their  wont  in  time  of  disturbance,  make  incursions  on 
the  frontiers.  Undo  your  gates,  then,  Lady  of  Berenger, 
and  suffer  his  Grace's  forces  to  enter  the  castle." 

"Sir  knight,"  answered  the  lady,  "this  castle,  like  every 
other  fortress  in  England,  is  the  king's  by  law  ;  but  by  law 
also  I  am  the  keeper  and  defender  of  it,  and  it  is  the  tenure 
by  which  my  ancestors  held  these  lands.  I  have  men  enough 
to  maintain  the  Garde  Doloureuse  in  my  time,  as  my  father, 
and  my  grandfather  before  him,  defended  it  in  theirs.  The 
King  is  gracious  to  send  me  succors,  but  I  need  not  the  aid 
of  hirelings  ;  neither  do  I  think  it  safe  to  admit  such  into  my 
castle,  who  may,  in  this  lawless  time,  make  themselves  mas- 
ters of  it  for  other  than  its  lawful  mistress." 

"  Lady,"  replied  the  old  warrior,  "  his  Grace  is  not  igno- 
rant of  the  motives  which  produce  a  contumacy  like  this.  It 
is  not  any  apprehension  for  the  royal  forces  which  influences 
you,  a  royal  vassal,  in  this  refractory  conduct.  I  might  pro- 
ceed upon  your  refusal  to  proclaim  you  a  traitor  to  the  crown, 
but  the  King  remembers  the  services  of  your  father.  Know, 
then,  we  are  not  ignorant  that  Damian  de  Lacy,  accused  of 
instigating  and  heading  this  insurrection,  of  deserting  his 
duty  in  the  field,  and  abandoning  a  noble  comrade  to  the 
sword  of  the  brutal  peasants,  has  found  shelter  under  this 
roof,  with  little  credit  to  your  loyalty  as  a  vassal,  or  your 
conduct  as  a  high-born  maiden.  Deliver  him  up  to  us,  and 
1  will  draw  off  these  men-at-arms,  and  dispense,  though  I 
may  scarce  answer  doing  so,  with  the  occupation  of  the 
castle." 

"'  Guy  de  Monthermer,"  answered  Eveline,  "he  that  throws 
a  stain  on  my  name  speaks  falsely  and  unworthily  ;  as  for 
Damian  de  Lacy,  he  knows  how  to  defend  his  own  fame. 
This  only  let  me  say,  that,  wdiile  he  takes  his  abode  in  the 


"  •  Deliver  him   up   to  us,  and   I   will   draw   off  these   men-at-a 


THE  BETROTHED  257 

castle  of  the  betrothed  of  his  kinsman,  she  delivers  him  to 
no  one,  least  of  all  to  his  well-known  fendal  enemy.  Drop 
the  portcullis,  wardens,  and  let  it  not  be  raised  without  my 
special  order." 

The  portcullis,  as  she  spoke,  fell  rattling  and  clanging  to 
the  ground,  and  Mon.thermer,  in  baffled  spite,  remained  ex- 
cluded from  the  castle.     "  Unworthy  lady "  he  began  in 

passion,  then  checking  himself,  said  calmly  to  the  pursui- 
vant, "  Ye  are  witness  that  she  hath  admitted  that  the  traitor 
is  within  that  castle  ;  ye  are  witness  that,  lawfully  sum- 
moned, tills  Eveline  Berenger  refuses  to  deliver  him  up.  Do 
your  duty,  sir  pursuivant,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases." 

The  pursuivant  then  advanced  and  proclaimed,  in  the 
formal  and  fatal  phrase  befitting  the  occasion,  that  Eveline 
Berenger,  lawfully  summoned,  refusing  to  admit  the  king's 
forces  into  her  castle,  and  to  deliver  up  the  body  of  a  false 
traitor,  called  Damian  de  Lacy,  had  herself  incurred  the 
penalty  of  high  treason,  and  had  involved  within  the  same 
doom  all  wlio  aided,  abetted,  or  maintained  her  in  holding 
out  the  said  castle  against  their  allegiance  to  Henry  of 
Anjou,  The  trumpets,  so  soon  as  the  voice  of  the  herald 
had  ceased,  confirmed  the  doom  he  had  pronounced  by  along 
and  ominous  peal,  startling  from  their  nests  the  owl  and  the 
raven,  who  replied  to  it  by  their  ill-boding  screams. 

The  defenders  of  the  castle  looked  on  each  other  with 
blank  and  dejected  countenances,  while  Monthermer,  raising 
aloft  his  lance,  exclaimed,  as  he  turned  his  horse  from  the 
castle  gate,  "  When  I  next  approach  the  Garde  Doloureuse, 
it  will  be  not  merely  to  intimate,  but  to  execute,  the  man- 
date of  my  sovereign." 

As  Eveline  stood  pensively  to  behold  the  retreat  of  Mon- 
thermer and  his  associates,  and  to  consider  what  was  to  be 
done  in  this  emergency,  she  heard  one  of  the  Flemings,  in  a 
low  tone,  ask  an  Englishman  who  stood  beside  him  what  was 
the  meaning  of  a  traitor. 

"  One  who  betray eth  a  trust  reposed — a  betrayer,"  said  the 
interpreter. 

The  phrase  which  he  used  recalled  to  Eveline's  memory 
her  boding  vision  or  dream.  "^^  Alas  !"  she  said,  "the  venge- 
ance of  the  fiend  is  about  to  be  accomplished.  Widow'd 
wife  and  wedded  maid — these  epithets  have  long  been  mine. 
Betrothed  ! — woe's  me  !  it  is  the  keystone  of  my  destiny. 
Betrayer  I  am  now  denounced,  though,  thank  God,  1  am  clear 
from  the  guilt !  It  only  follows  that  I  should  be  betrayed, 
and  the  evil  prophecy  will  be  fulfilled  to  the  very  letter." 


CHAPTEE  XXIX 

Out  on  ye,  owls.    Nothing  but  songs  of  death  ? 

Richard  III. 

Moke  than  three  months  had  eLapsed  since  the  event  nar- 
rated in  the  last  chapter,  and  it  had  been  the  precursor  of 
others  of  still  greater  importance,  which  will  evolve  them- 
selves in  the  course  of  our  narrative.  But,  as  we  profess  to 
present  to  the  reader  not  a  precise  detail  of  circumstances,  ac- 
cording to  their  order  and  date,  but  a  series  of  pictures,  en- 
deavoring to  exhibit  the  most  striking  incident  before  the  eye 
or  imagination  of  those  whom  it  may  concern,  we  therefore 
open  a  new  scene,  and  bring  other  actors  upon  the  stage. 

Along  a  wasted  tract  of  country,  more  than  twelve  miles 
distant  from  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  in  the  heat  of  a  summer 
noon,  which  shed  a  burning  luster  on  the  silent  valley  and  the 
blackened  ruins  of  the  cottages  with  which  it  had  been  once 
graced,  two  travelers  walked  slowly,  whose  palmer  cloaks, 
pilgrims'  staves,  large  slouched  hats,  with  a  scallop  shell 
bound  on  the  front  of  each,  above  all,  the  cross,  cut  in  red 
cloth  upon  their  shoulders,  marked  them  as  pilgrims  who 
had  accomplished  their  vow,  and  had  returned  from  that 
fatal  bourne  from  which,  in  those  days,  returned  so  few  of  ^ 
the  thousands  who  visited  it,  whether  in  the  love  of  enter-' 
prise  or  in  the  ardor  of  devotion. 

The  pilgrims  had  passed,  that  morning,  through  a  scene] 
of  devastation  similiar  to,  and  scarce  surpassed  in  misery  by,j 
those  which  they  had  often  trod  during  the  wars  of  the] 
Cross.     They  had  seen  hamlets  which  appeared  to  have  suf- 
fered all  the  fury  of  military  execution,  the  houses  beingj 
burned  to  the  ground  ;  and  in  many  cases  the  carcasses  of 
the  miserable  inhabitants,  or  rather  relics  of  such  objects,] 
were  suspended  on  temporary  gibbets,  or  on  the  trees,  whicl 
had  been  allowed  to  remain  standing  only,  it  would  seem,] 
to  serve  the  convenience  of  the  executioners.     Living  crea-, 
tures  they  saw  none,  excepting  those  wild  denizens  of  nature 
who  seemed  silently  resuming  the  now  wasted  district,  fror 
which  they  might  have  been  formerly  expelled  by  the  course 
of  civilization.     Their  ears  were  no  less  disagreeably  occu- 


THE  BETROTHED  259 

Eied  than  their  eyes.  The  pensive  travelers  might  indeed 
ear  the  screams  of  the  raven,  as  if  lamenting  the  decay  of 
the  carnage  on  which  he  had  been  gorged,  and  now  and  then 
the  plaintive  howl  of  some  dog,  deprived  of  his  home  and 
master  ;  but  no  sounds  which  argued  either  labor  or  domes- 
tication of  any  kind. 

The  sable  figures  who,  with  wearied  steps,  as  it  appeared, 
traveled  through  these  scenes  of  desolation  and  ravage, 
seemed  assimilated  to  them  in  appearance.  They  spoke  not 
with  each  other,  they  looked  not  to  each  other  ;  but  one, 
the  shorter  of  the  pair,  keeping  about  half  a  pace  in  front 
of  his  companion,  they  moved  slowly,  as  priests  returning 
from  a  sinner's  death-bed,  or  rather  as  specters  flitting  along 
the  precincts  of  a  churchyard. 

At  length  they  reached  a  grassy  mound,  on  the  top  of 
which  was  placed  one  of  those  receptacles  for  the  _  dead  of 
the  ancient  British  chiefs  of  distinction,  called  "  kistyaen," 
which  are  composed  of  upright  fragments  of  granite,  so 
placed  as  to  form  a  stone  coffin,  or  something  bearing  that 
resemblance.  The  sepulcher  had  been  long  violated  by  the 
victorious  Saxons,  either  in  scorn  or  in  idle  curiosity,  or  be- 
cause treasures  were  supposed  to  be  sometimes  concealed  in 
such  spots.  The  huge  flat  stone  which  had  once  been  the 
cover  of  the  coffin,  if  so  it  might  be  termed,  lay  broken  in  two 
pieces  at  some  distance  from  the  sepulcher,  and,  overgrown 
as  the  fragments  were  with  grass  and  lichens,  showed  plainly 
that  the  lid  had  been  removed  to  its  present  situation  many 
years  before.  A  stunted  and  doddered  oak  still  spread  its 
branches  over  the  open  and  rude  mausoleum,  as  if  the 
Druids'  badge  and  emblem,  shattered  and  storm-broken,  was 
still  bending  to  offer  its  protection  to  the  last  remnants  of 
their  worship, 

"  This  then,  is  the  kistvaen,"  said  the  shorter  pilgrim  ; 
"  and  here  we  must  abide  tidings  of  our  scout.  But  what, 
Philip  Guarine,  have  we  to  expect  as  an  explanation  of  the 
devastation  which  we  have  traversed  ?" 

"  Some  incursion  of  the  Welsh  wolves,  my  lord,"  replied 
Guarine  ;  '^'and,  by  Our  Lady,  here  lies  a  poor  Saxon  sheep 
whom  they  have  snapped  up." 

The  Constable — for  he  was  the  pilgrim  who  had  walked 
foremost— turned  as  he  heard  his  squire  speak,  and  saw  the 
corpse  of  a  man  amongst  the  long  grass  ;  by  which,  indeed, 
it  was  so  hidden  that  he  himself  had  passed  without  notice 
what  the  esquire,  in  less  abstracted  mood,  had  not  failed  to 
observe.     The  leathern  doublet  of  the  slain  bespoke  him  an 


260  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

English  peasant ;  the  body  lay  on  its  face,  and  the  arrow 
which  had  caused  his  death  still  stuck  in  his  back. 

Philip  Guarine,  with  the  cool  inditference  of  one  accus- 
tomed to  such  scenes,  drew  the  shaft  from  the  man's  back 
as  composedly  as  he  would  have  removed  it  from  the  body 
of  a  deer.  With  similar  indifference  the  Constable  signed 
to  his  esquire  to  give  him  the  arrowy  looked  at  it  with  indo- 
lent curiosity,  and  then  said,  "  Thou  hast  forgotten  thy  old 
craft,  Guarine,  when  thou  callest  that  a  Welsh  shaft.  Trust 
me,  it  flew  from  a  Xorman  bow  ;  but  why  it  should  be  found 
in  the  body  of  that  English  churl,  I  can  ill  guess." 

"  Some  runaway  serf,  I  would  warrant — some  mongrel  cur, 
who  had  joined  the  Welsh  pack  of  hounds,"  answered  the 
esquire. 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  the  Constable  ;  "  but  I  rather  augur 
some  civil  war  among  the  Lords  Marchers  themselves.  The 
Welsh,  indeed,  sweep  the  villages,  and  leave  nothing  behind 
them  but  blood  and  ashes,  but  here  even  castles  seem  to  have 
been  stormed  and  taken.  May  God  send  us  good  news  of 
the  Garde  Doloureuse  !  " 

"  Amen  !  "  rei^lied  his  squire  ;  "  but  if  Renault  Vidal 
brings  it,  'twill  be  the  first  time  he  has  proved  a  bird  of  good 
omen." 

"  Philip,"  said  the  Constable,  ''  I  have  already  told  thee 
thou  art  a  jealous-pated  fool.  How  many  times  has  Vidal 
shown  his  faith  in  doubt,  his  address  in  difficulty,  his  cour- 
age in  battle,  his  patience  under  suffering  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  all  very  true,  my  lord,"  replied  Guariue  ; 
*'  yet — but  what  avails  to  speak  ?  I  own  he  has  done  you 
sometimes  good  service  ;  but  loth  were  I  that  your  life  or 
honor  were  at  the  mercy  of  Eenault  Vidal." 

"  In  the  name  of  all  the  saints,  thou  peevish  and  suspi- 
cious fool,  what  is  it  thou  canst  found  upon  to  his  prej- 
udice ?  " 

''Nothing,  my  lord,"  replied  Guarine,  "but  instinctive 
suspicion  and  aversion.  The  child  that,  for  the  first  time, 
sees  a  snake  knows  nothing  of  its  evil  properties,  yet  he  will 
not  chase  it  and  take  it  u^j  as  he  would  a  butterfly  ;  such  is 
my  dislike  of  Vidal,  I  cannot  help  it.  I  could  pardon  the 
man  his  malicious  and  gloomy  sidelong  looks,  w'hen  he 
thinks  no  one  observes  him  ;  but  his  sneering  laugh  I  can- 
not forgive  :  it  is  like  the  beast  we  heard  of  in  Judea,  who 
laughs,  they  say,  before  he  tears  and  destroys." 

"Philip,"  said  De  Lacy,  "I  am  sorry  for  thee — sorry, 
from  my  soul,  to  see  such  a  predominating  and  causeless 


THE  BETROTHED  261 

jealousy  occupy  the  brain  of  a  gallant  old  soldier.  Here,  in 
this  last  misfortune,  to  call  no  more  ancient  proofs  of  his 
fidelity,  could  he  mean  otherwise  then  well  with  us,  when, 
thrown  by  shipwreck  upon  the  coast  of  Wales,  we  would 
have  been  doomed  to  instant  death,  had  the  Cymry  recog- 
nized in  me  the  Constable  of  Chester,  and  in  thee  his  trusty 
esquire,  the  executioner  of  his  commands  against  the  Welsh 
in  so  many  instances  ?  " 

"I  acknowledge,"  said  Philip  Guarine,  "death  had 
surely  been  our  fortune,  had  not  that  man's  ingenuity  repre- 
sented us  as  pilgrims,  and,  under  that  character,  acted  as  our 
interpreter  ;  and  in  that  character  he  entirely  precluded  us 
from  getting  information  from  any  one  respecting  the  state  of 
things  here,  which  it  behoved  your  lordship  much  to  know, 
and  which  I  must  needs  say  looks  gloomy  and  suspicious 
enough." 

'*  Still  art  thou  a  fool,  Guarine,"  said  the  Constable  ; 
''for,  look  you,  had  Vital  meant  ill  by  us,  why  should  he  not 
have  betrayed  us  to  the  Welsh,  or  suffered  us,  by  showing 
such  knowledge  as  thou  and  I  may  have  of  their  gibberish, 
to  betray  ourselves  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  lord,"  said  Guarine,  "  I  may  be  silenced,  but 
not  satisfied.  All  the  fair  words  he  can  speak,  all  the  fine 
tunes  he  can  play,  Renault  Vidal  will  be  to  my  eyes  ever  a  dark 
and  suspicious  man,  with  features  always  ready  to  mold 
themselves  into  the  fittest  form  to  attract  confidence  ;  with  a 
tongue  framed  to  utter  the  most  flattering  and  agreeable 
words  at  one  time,  and  at  another  to  play  shrewd  plainness 
or  blunt  honesty  ;  and  an  eye  which,  when  he  thinks  himself 
unobserved,  contradicts  every  assumed  expression  of  features, 
every  protestation  of  honesty,  and  every  word  of  courtesy  or 
cordiality  to  which  his  tongue  has  given  utterance.  But  I 
speak  not  more  on  the  subject ;  only  I  am  an  old  mastiff,  of 
the  true  breed  :  I  love  my  master,  but  cannot  endure  some 
of  those  whom  he  favors ;  and  yonder,  as  I  judge,  _  comes 
Vidal,  to  give  us  such  an  account  of  our  situation  as  it  shall 
please  him." 

A  horseman  was  indeed  seen  advancing  in  the  path  towards 
the  kistvaen,  with  a  hasty  pace  ;  and  his  dress,  in  which  some- 
tliing  of  the  Eastern  fashion  was  manifest,  with  the  fantastic 
attire  usually  worn  by  men  of  his  profession,  made  the  Con- 
stable aware  that  the  minstrel,  of  whom  they  were  speaking, 
was  rapidly  approaching  them. 

Although  Hugo  de  Lacy  rendered  his  attendant  no  more 
than  what  in  justice  he  supposed  his  services  demanded. 


262  WAVERLEY  ^^OVELS 

when  he  vindicated  him  from  the  suspicion  thrown  out  by 
Guarine,  yet  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  had  sometimes 
shared  those  susjaicious,  and  was  often  angry  at  himself,  as  a 
just  and  honest  man,  for  censuring,  on  the  sliglit  testimony 
of  loolis,  and  sometimes  casual  expressions,  a  fidelity  which 
seemed  to  be  proved  by  many  acts  of  zeal  and  integrity. 

When  Yidal  approached  and  dismounted  to  make  his  obei- 
sance, his  master  hasted  to  s^^eak  to  him  in  words  of  favor, 
as  if  conscious  he  had  been  partly  sharing  Guarine's  unjust 
judgment  upon  him,  by  even  listening  to  it.  '-Welcome, 
my  trusty  Vidal,'^  he  said  ;  •'thou  has  been  the  raven  that 
fed  us  on  the  mountains  of  Wales,  be  now  the  dove  that  brings 
us  good  tidings  from  the  marches.  Thou  are  silent.  What 
mean  these  downcast  looks,  that  embarrassed  carriage,  that 
cap  plucked  down  o'er  thine  eyes  ?  In  God's  name,  man, 
speak  !  Fear  not  for  me  ;  I  can  bear  worse  than  tongue  of  man 
may  tell.  Thou  hast  seen  me  in  the  wars  of  Palestine,  when 
my  brave  followers  fell,  man  by  man,  around  me,  and  when 
I  was  left  wellnigh  alone,  and  did  I  blench  then  ?  Thou  hast 
seen  me  when  the  ship's  keel  lay  grating  on  the  rock,  and 
the  billows  flew  in  foam  over  her  deck,  did  I  blench  then  ? 
No,  nor  will  I  now.'' 

"  Boast  not,"  said  the  minstrel,  looking  fixedly  upon  the 
Constable,  as  the  former  assumed  the  port  and  countenance 
of  one  who  sets  Fortune  and  her  utmost  malice  at  defiance — ■ 
"boast  not,  lest  thy  bands  be  made  strong." 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  minute,  during  which  the  group 
formed  at  this  instant  a  singular  picture. 

Afraid  to  ask,  yet  ashamed  to  seem  to  fear,  the  ill  tidings 
which  impended,  the  Constable  confronted  his  messenger 
with  person  erect,  arms  folded,  and  brow  expanded  with  res- 
olution ;  while  the  minstrel,  carried  beyond  his  usual  and 
guarded  apathy  by  the  interest  of  the  moment,  bent  on  his 
master  a  keen  fixed  glance,  as  if  to  observe  whether  hisi 
courage  was  real  or  assumed.  ' 

Philip  Guarine,  on  the  other  hand,  to  whom  Heaven,  in 
assigning  him  a  rough  exterior,  had  denied  neither  sense  nor 
observation,  kept  his  eye  in  turn  firmly  fixed  on  Vidal,  as  if 
endeavoring  to  determine  what  was  the  character  of  that  deep 
interest  which  gleamed  in  the  minstrel's  looks  apparently, 
and  was  unable  to  ascertain  whether  it  was  that  of  a  faithful 
domestic  sympathetically  agitated  by  the  bad  new^s  with 
which  he  was  about  to  afflict  his  master,  or  that  of  an  execu- 
tioner standing  with  his  knife  suspended  over  his  victim, 
deferring  his  blow  until  he  should  discover  where  it  would 


THE  BETROTHED  263 

be  more  sensibly  felt.  In  Gaarine's  mind,  prejndiced,  per- 
haps, by  the  previous  opinion  he  had  entertained,  the  latter 
sentiment  so  decidedly  predominated,  that  he  longed  to  raise 
his  staff  and  strike  down  to  the  earth  the  servant  who  seemed 
thus  to  enjoy  the  protracted  sufferings  of  their  common 
master. 

At  length  a  convulsive  movement  crossed  the  brow  of  the 
Constable,  and  Guarine,  when  he  beheld  a  sardonic  smile 
begin  to  curl  Vidal's  lip,  could  keep  silence  no  longer. 
"  Vidal,"  he  said,  "  thou  art  a " 

"  A  bearer  of  bad  tidings,"  said  Vidal,  interrupting  him, 
"  therefore  subject  to  the  misconstruction  of  every  fool  who 
cannot  distinguish  between  the  author  of  harm  and  him  who 
unwillingly  reports  it." 

"To  wiiat  purpose  this  delay?"  said  the  Constable. 
"  Come,  sir  minstrel,  I  will  spare  you  a  pang — Eveline  has 
forsaken  and  forgotten  me  ?  " 

The  minstrel  assented  by  a  low  inclination. 

Hugo  de  Lacy  paced  a  short  turn  before  the  stone  monu- 
ment, endeavoring  to  conquer  the  deep  emotion  which  he 
felt.  "  I  forgive  her,"  he  said.  "  Forgive,  did  I  say  ? 
Alas  !  I  liave  nothing  to  forgive.  She  used  but  the  right 
I  left  in  her  hand.  Yes,  our  date  of  engagement  was  out  ; 
she  had  heard  of  my  losses,  my  defeats,  the  destruction  of 
my  hopes,  the  expenditure  of  my  wealth,  and  has  taken  the 
first  opportunity  which  strict  law  afforded  to  break  off  her 
engagment  with  one  bankrupt  in  fortune  and  fame.  Many  a 
maiden  would  have  done — perhaps  in  prudence  should  have 
done — this  ;  but  that  woman's  name  should  not  have  been 
Eveline  Berenger." 

He  leaned  on  his  esquire's  arm,  and  for  an  instant  laid 
his  head  on  his  shoulder  with  a  depth  of  emotion  which 
Guarine  had  never  before  seen  him  betray,  and  which,  in 
awkward  kindness,  he  could  only  attempt  to  console  by 
bidding  his  master,  "  Be  of  good  courage  ;  he  had  lost  but 
a  woman." 

"  This  is  no  selfish  emotion,  Philip,"  said  the  Constable, 
resuming  self-command.  "I  grieve  less  that  she  has  left 
me  than'^that  she  has  misjudged  me  :  that  she  has  treated 
me  as  the  pawnbroker  does  his  wretched  creditor,  who  arrests 
the  pledge  as  the  very  moment  elapses  within  which  it  might 
have  been  relieved.  Did  she  then  think  that  I  in  my  turn 
would  have  been  a  creditor  so  rigid — that  I,  who,  since  I 
knew  her,  scarce  deemed  myself  worthy  of  her  when  I  had 
wealth  and  fame,  should  insist  on  her  sharing  my  diminished 


264  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  degraded  fortunes  ?  How  little  she  ever  knew  me,  or 
how  selfish  must  she  have  supposed  my  misfortunes  to  have 
made  me  !  But  be  it  so  ;  she  is  gone,  and  may  she  be  happy  ! 
The  thought  that  she  disturbed  me  shall  pass  from  my  mind  ; 
and  I  will  think  she  has  done  that  which  I  myself,  as  her 
best  friend,  must  in  honor  have  advised/' 

So  saying,  his  countenance,  to  the  surprise  of  his  attend- 
ants, resumed  its  usual  firm  composure. 

"  I  give  you  Joy,"  said  the  esquire,  in  a  whisper  to  the 
minstrel ;  ''your  evil  news  have  wounded  less  deeply  than, 
doubtless,  you  believed  was  possible." 

"Alas  !"  replied  the  minstrel,  ''I  have  others  and  worse 
behind." 

This  answer  was  made  in  an  equivocal  tone  of  voice,  corre- 
sponding to  the  peculiarity  of  his  manner,  and,  like  that 
seeming  emotion,  of  a  deep  but  very  doubtful  character. 

"  Eveline  Berenger  is  then  married,"  said  the  Constable  ; 
''and.  let  me  make  a  wild  guess — she  has  not  abandoned 
the  family,  though  she  has  forsaken  the  individual — she  is 
still  a  Lacy,  ha  ?  Dolt  that  thou  art,  wilt  thou  not  under- 
stand me — she  is  married  to  Damian  de  Lacy — to  my 
nephew  I" 

The  effort  with  which  the  Constable  gave  breath  to  this 
supposition  formed  a  strange  contrast  to  the  constrained 
smile  to  which  he  compelled  his  features  while  he  uttered  it. 
With  such  a  smile  a  man  about  to  drink  poison  might  name 
a  health,  as  he  put  the  fatal  beverage  to  his  lips. 

"  Xo,  my  lord,  not  married,"  answered  the  minstrel,  with 
an  emphasis  on  the  word,  which  the  Constable  knew  how  to 
interpret. 

"  Xo — no,"  he  replied  quickly,  "  not  married,  perhaps, 
but  engaged — troth-plighted.  Wherefore  not  ?  The  date 
of  her  old  affiance  was  out,  why  not  enter  into  a  new  engage- 
ment ?  " 

"  The  Lady  Eveline  and  Sir  Damian  de  Lacy  are  not 
affianced  that  I  know  of,"  answered  his  attendant. 

This  reply  drove  De  Lacy's  patience  to  extremity. 

"  Dog  !  dost  thou  trifle  with  me  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Vile 
wire  pincher,  thou  torturest  me  !  Speak  the  worst  at  once, 
or  I  will  presently  make  thco  minstrel  to  the  household  of 
Satan." 

Calm  and  collected  did  the  minstrel  reply — "The  Lady 
Eveline  and  Sir  Damian  are  neither  married  nor  affianced, 
my  lord.  They  haved  loved  and  lived  together — paf 
amours." 


THE  BETROTHED  285 

'*  Dog,  and  son  of  a  dog,"  said  De  Lacy,  **  thou  liest  !  ** 
And,  seizing  the  minstrel  by  the  breast,  the  exasperated 
baron  shook  him  with  his  whole  strength.  Bnt,  great  as 
that  strength  was,  it  was  unable  to  stagger  Vidal,  a  prac- 
tised wrestler,  in  the  firm  posture  which  he  had  assumed, 
any  more  than  his  master's  wrath  could  disturb  the  compos- 
ure oi  the  minstrel's  bearing. 

"  Confess  thou  hast  lied,"  said  the  Constable,  releasing 
him,  after  having  effected  by  his  violence  no  greater  degree 
of  agitation  than  the  exertion  of  human  force  produces  upon 
the  rocking  stones  of  the  Druids,  which  may  be  shaken, 
indeed,  but  not  displaced. 

"  Were  a  lie  to  buy  my  own  life,  yea,  the  lives  of  all  my 
tribe,"  said  the  minstrel,  "  I  would  not  tell  one.  But  truth 
itself  is  ever  termed  falsehood  when  it  counteracts  the  train 
of  our  passions." 

"  Hear  him,  Philip  Guarine — hear  him  !  "  exclaimed  the 
Constable,  turning  hastily  to  his  squire.  "He  tells  me  oi 
my  disgrace — of  the  dishonor  of  my  house — of  the  depravity 
of  those  whom  I  have  loved  the  best  in  the  world — he  tells 
me  of  it  with  a  calm  look,  an  eye  composed,  an  unfaltering 
tongue.  Is  this — can  it  be  natural  ?  Is  De  Lacy  sunk  so 
low,  that  his  dishonor  shall  be  told  by  a  common  strolling 
minstrel,  as  calmly  as  if  it  were  a  theme  for  a  vain  ballad  ? 
Perhaps  thou  wilt  make  it  one,  ha  ! "  as  he  concluded,  dart- 
ing a  furious  glance  at  the  minstrel. 

""  Perhaps  I  might,  my  lord,"  replied  the  minstrel,  "  were 
it  not  that  I  must  record  therein  the  disgrace  of  Renault 
Vidal,  who  served  a  lord  without  either  patience  to  bear 
insults  and  wrongs  or  spirit  to  reverge  them  on  the  authors 
of  his  shame." 

"Thou  art  right — thou  art  right,  good  fellow,"  said  the 
Constable,  hastily:  "it  is  vengeance  now  alone  which  is 
left  us.     And  yet  upon  whom  ?" 

As  he  spoke,  he  walked  shortly  and  hastily  to  and  fro  ; 
and,  becoming  suddenly  silent,  stood  still  and  wrung  his 
hands  with  deep  emotion. 

"I  told  thee,"  said  the  minstrel  to  Guarine,  "that  my 
muse  would  find  a  tender  part  at  last.  Dost  thou  remember 
the  bull-fight  we  saw  in  Spain  ?  A  thousand  little  darts 
perplexed  and  annoyed  the  noble  animal  ere  he  received 
the  last  deadly  thrust  from  the  lance  of  the  Moorish 
cavalier." 

"  Man  or  fiend,  be  which  thou  wilt,"  replied  Guarine, 
**  that  can  thus  drink  in  with  pleasure  and  contemplate  at 


266  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

your  ease  the  misery  of  another,  I  bid  thee  beware  of  me. 
Utter  thy  cold-blooded  taunts  in  some  other  ear  ;  for  if  my 
tongue  be  blunt,  I  wear  a  sword  that  is  sharp  enough." 

"  Thou  hast  seen  me  among  swords,"  answered  the  min- 
strel, "and  knowest  liow  little  terror  they  have  for  such  as 
I  am,"  Yet  as  he  spoke  he  drew  off  from  the  esquire.  He 
had,  in  fact,  only  addressed  him  in  that  sort  of  fulness  of 
heart  which  would  have  vented  itself  in  soliloquy  if  alone, 
and  now  poured  itself  out  on  the  nearest  auditor,  without 
the  speaker  being  entirely  conscious  of  the  sentiments  which 
his  speech  excited. 

Few  minutes  had  elapsed  before  the  Constable  of  Chester 
had  regained  the  calm  external  semblance  with  which,  until 
this  last  dreadful  wound,  he  had  borne  all  the  inflictions  of 
fortune.  He  turned  towards  his  followers,  and  addressed 
the  minstrel  with  his  usual  calmness,  "  Thou  art  right,  good 
fellow,"  he  said,  "  in  what  thou  saidst  to  me  but  now,  and 
I  forgive  thee  the  taunt  which  accompanied  thy  good  coun- 
sel. Speak  out,  in  God's  name,  and  speak  to  one  prepared 
to  endure  the  evil  which  God  hath  sent  him.  Certes,  a 
good  knight  is  best  known  in  battle,  and  a  Christian  in  the 
time  of  trouble  and  adversity." 

The  tone  in  which  the  Constable  spoke  seemed  to  produce 
a  corresponding  eifect  upon  the  deportment  of  his  followers. 
The  minstrel  dropped  at  once  the  cynical  and  audacious 
tone  in  which  he  had  hitherto  seemed  to  tamper  with  the 
passions  of  his  master  ;  and  in  language  simple  and  respect- 
ful, and  which  even  approached  to  sympathy,  informed  him 
of  the  evil  news  which  he  had  collected  during  his  absence. 
It  was  indeed  disastrous. 

The  refusal  of  the  Lady  Eveline  Bereuger  to  admit  Mont- 
hermer  and  his  forces  into  her  castle  had  of  course  given 
circulation  and  credence  to  all  the  calumnies  which  had 
been  ^circulated  to  her  prejudice  and  that  of  Damian  de 
Lacy  ;  and  there  were  many  who,  for  various  causes,  were 
interested  in  spreading  and  supporting  these  slanders.  A 
large  force  had  been  sent  into  the  country  to  subdue  the  in- 
surgent peasants,  and  the  knights  and  nobles  despatchei' 
for  that  purpose  failed  not  to  avenge  to  the  uttermost,  upoi 
the  wretched  plebeians,  the  noble  blood  which  they  ha( 
spilled  during  tbeir  temporary  triumph. 

The  followers  of  the  unfortunate  AVenlock  were  infectei 
with  the  same  persuasion.  Blamed  by  many  for  a  hast; 
and  cowardly  surrender  of  a  post  which  might  have  been  di 
fended,  they  endeavored  to  vindicate  themselves  by  alleginj 


THE  BETROrUED  267 

the  hostile  demonstrations  of  De  Lacy's  cavalry  as  the  sole 
cause  of  their  premature  submission. 

These  rumors,  supported  by  such  interested  testimony, 
spread  wide  and  far  through  the  land ;  and,  joined  to 
the  undeniable  fact  that  Daniian  had  sought  refuge  in  the 
strong  castle  of  Garde  Doloureuse,  which  was  now  defend- 
ing itself  against  the  royal  arms,  animated  the  numerous 
enemies  of  the  house  of  De  Lacy,  and  drove  its  vassals  and 
friends  almost  to  despair,  as  men  reduced  either  to  disown 
their  feudal  allegiance  or  renounce  that  still  more  sacred 
fealty  which  they  owed  to  their  sovereign. 

At  this  crisis  they  received  intelligence  that  the  wi^e  and 
active  monarch  ,by  whom  the  scepter  of  England  was  then 
swayed  was  moving  towards  that  part  of  England  at  the 
head  of  a  large  body  of  soldiers,  for  the  purpose  at  once  of 
pressing  the  siege  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  and  completing 
the  suppression  of  the  insurrection  of  the  peasantry,  which 
Guy  Monthermer  had  nearly  accomplished. 

In  this  emergency,  and  when  the  friends  and  dependants 
of  the  house  of  Lacy  scarcely  knew  which  hand  to  turn  to, 
Randal,  the  Constable's  kinsman,  and,  after  Damian,  his 
heir,  suddenly  appeared  amongst  them  Avith  a  royal  commis- 
sion to  raise  and  command  such  followers  of  the  family  as 
might  not  desire  to  be  involved  in  the  supposed  treason  of 
the  Constable's  delegate.  In  troublesome  times  men's  vices 
are  forgotten,  provided  they  display  activity,  courage,  and 
prudence,  the  virtues  then  most  required  ;  and  the  appear- 
ance of  Eandal,  who  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  any  of 
these  attributes,  was  received  as  a  good  omen  by  the  follow- 
ers of  his  cousin.  They  quickly  gathered  around  him,  sur- 
rendered to  the  royal  mandate  such  strongholds  as  they 
possessed,  and,  to  vindicate  themselves  from  any  participa- 
tion in  the  alleged  crimes  of  Damian,  they  distinguished 
themselves,  under  Randal's  command,  against  such  scattered 
bodies  of  peasantry  as  still  kept  the  field  or  lurked  in  the 
mountains  and  passes  ;  and  conducted  themselves  with  such 
severity  after  success  as  made  the  troops  even  of  Monther- 
mer appear  gentle  and  clement  in  comparison  of  those  of  De 
Lacy.  Finally,  with  the  banner  of  his  ancient  house  dis- 
played, and  five  hundred  good  men  assembled  under  it,  Ran- 
dal appeared  before  the  Garde  Doloureuse  and  joined 
Henry's  camp  there. 

The  castle  was  already  hardly  pressed,  and  the  few  de- 
fenders, disabled  by  wounds,  watching,  and  privation,  had 
now  the  additional  discouragement  to  see  displayed  against 


268  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

their  walls  the  only  banner  in  England  under  which  they 
had  lioped  forces  might  be  mustered  for  their  aid. 

The  high-spirited  entreaties  of  Eveline,  unbent  b}-  adver- 
sity and  want,  gradually  lost  effect  on  the  defenders  of  the 
castle  ;  and  proposals  for  surrender  were  urged  and  discussed 
by  a  tumultuary  council,  into  which  not  only  the  inferior 
officers,  but  many  of  the  common  men,  had  thrust  them- 
selves, as  in  a  period  of  such  general  distress  as  unlooses  all 
the  bonds  of  discipline,  and  leaves  each  man  at  liberty  to 
speak  and  act  for  himself.  To  their  surprise,  in  the  midst 
of  their  discussions,  Damian  de  Lacy,  arisen  from  the  sick- 
bed to  which  he  had  been  so  long  confined,  appeared  among 
them,  pale  and  feeble,  his  cheek  tinged  with  the  ghastly 
look  which  is  left  by  long  illness  ;  he  leaned  on  his  page 
Amelot.  "Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "and  soldiers — yet  why 
should  I  call  you  either  ?  Gentlemen  are  ever  ready  to  die 
in  behalf  of  a  lady,  soldiers  hold  life  in  scorn  compared  to 
their  honor." 

"Out  upon  him — out  upon  him  !"  exclaimed  one  of  the 
soldiers,  interrupting  him  ;  "  he  would  have  us,  who  are 
innocent,  die  the  death  of  traitors,  and  be  hanged  in  our 
armor  over  the  walls,  rather  than  part  with  his  leman." 

"  Peace,  irreverent  slave  !"  said  Damian,  in  a  voice  like 
thunder,  "or  my  last  blow  shall  be  a  mean  one,  aimed 
against  such  a  caitiff  as  thou  art.  And  yon,"  he  continued, 
addressing  the  rest — "  you,  who  are  shrinking  from  the  toils 
of  your  profession,  because,  if  you  persist  in  a  course  of 
honor,  death  may  close  them  a  few  years  sooner  than  it 
needs  must — you,  who  are  scared  like  children  at  the  sight 
of  a  death's-head,  do  not  suppose  that  Damian  de  Lacy 
would  desire  to  shelter  himself  at  the  expense  of  tbose  lives 
which  you  hold  so  dear.  Make  your  bargain  with  King 
Henry.  Deliver  me  up  to  his  justice,  or  his  severity  ;  or,  if 
you  like  it  better,  strike  my  head  from  my  body,  and  hurl  it, 
as  a  peace-offering,  from  the  walls  of  the  castle.  To  God, 
in  His  good  time,  will  I  trust  for  the  clearance  of  mine 
honor.  In  a  word,  surrender  me,  dead  or  alive,  or  o^Den  the 
gates  and  permit  me  to  surrender  myself.  Only,  as  ye  are 
men,  since  I  may  not  say  better  of  ye,  care  at  least  for  the 
safety  of  your  mistress,  and  make  such  terms  as  may  secure 
HER  safety,  and  save  yourselves  from  the  dishonor  of  being 
held  cowardly  and  perjured  caitiffs  in  your  graves." 

"  Methinks  the  youth  speaks  well  and  reasonably,*'  said 
Wilkin  Flammock.  "  Let  us  e'en  make  a  grace  of  surrender- 
ing his  body  up  to  the  King,  and  assure  thereby  such  terms 


THE  BETROTHED  269 

as  we  can  for  ourselves  and  the  lady,  ere  the  last  morsel  of 
our  provision  is  consumed." 

"  I  would  hardly  have  proposed  this  measure/'  said,  or 
rather  mumbled.  Father  Aldrovand,  who  had  recently  lost 
four  of  his  front  teeth  by  a  stone  from  a  sling — "yet,  being 
so  generously  offered  by  the  party  principally  concerned,  I 
hold  with  the  learned  scholiast.   Volenti  nonfit  injuria." 

'-  Priest  and  Fleming,"  said  the  old  bannerman,  Ealph 
Genvil,  "I  see  how  the  wind  stirreth  you  ;  but  you  deceive 
yourselves  if  you  think  to  make  our  young  master.  Sir 
Damian,  a  scapegoat  for  your  light  lady.  Nay,  never  frown 
nor  fume.  Sir  Damian  ;  if  you  know  not  your  safest  course, 
we  know  it  for  you.  Followers  of  De  Lacy,  throw  your- 
selves on  your  horses,  and  two  men  on  one,  if  it  be  neces- 
sary ;  we  will  take  this  stubborn  boy  in  the  midst  of  us,  and 
the  dainty  Squire  Amelot  shall  be  prisoner  too,  if  he 
trouble  us  with  his  peevish  opposition.  Then  let  us  make  a 
fair  sally  upon  the  siegers.  Those  who  can  cut  their  way 
through  will  shift  well  enough  ;  those  who  fall  will  be  pro- 
vided for." 

A  shout  from  the  troopers  of  Lacy's  band  approved  this 
proposal.  Whilst  the  followers  of  Berenger  expostulated  in 
loud  and  angry  tone,  Eveline,  summoned  by  the  tumult,  in 
vain  endeavored  to  appease  it ;  and  the  anger  and  entreaties 
of  Damian  were  equally  lost  on  his  followers.  To  each  and 
either  the  answer  was  the  same. 

"  Have  you  no  care  of  it.  Because  you  \o\e  par  amours, 
is  it  reasonable  you  should  throw  away  your  life  and  ours  ?  " 
So  exclaimed  Genvil  to  De  Lacy  ;  and  in  softer  language, 
but  with  equal  obstinacy,  the  followers  of  Eaymond  Beren- 
ger refused  on  the  present  occasion  to  listen  to  the  commands 
or  prayers  of  his  daughter. 

Wilkin  Flammock  had  retreated  from  the  tumult  when 
he  saw  the  turn  which  matters  had  taken.  He  left  the 
castle  by  a  sally-port,  of  which  he  had  been  entrusted  with 
the  key,  and  proceeded  without  observation  or  opposition  to 
the  royal  camp,  where  he  requested  access  to  the  sovereign. 
This  was  easily  obtained,  and  Wilkin  speedily  found  him- 
self in  the  presence  of  King  Henry.  The  monarch  was  in 
his  royal  pavilion,  attended  by  two  of  his  sons,  Richard  and, 
John,  who  afterwards  swayed  the  scepter  of  England  with 
very  different  auspices. 

"  How  now  ?     What  art  thou  ?"  was  the  royal  question. 

"An  honest  man,  from  the  castle  of  the  Garde  Dolour* 


270  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

"  Thou  mayst  be  honest,"  replied  the  sovereign,  '"  but 
thou  comest  from  a  nest  of  traitors." 

"  Such  as  they  are,  my  lord,  it  is  my  purpose  to  put  them 
at  your  royal  disposal  ;  for  they  have  no  longer  the  wisdom 
to  guide  themselves,  and  lack  alike  prudence  to  hold  out 
and  grace  to  submit.  But  I  would  first  know  of  your  Grace 
to  what  terms  you  will  admit  the  defenders  of  yonder 
garrison  ?" 

"To  such  as  kings  give  to  traitors,"  said  Henry,  sternly— 
'''sharp  knives  and  tough  cords." 

"Nay,  my  gracious  lord,  you  must  be  kinder  than  that 
amounts  to,  if  the  castle  is  to  be  rendered  by  my  means ; 
else  will  your  cords  and  knives  have  only  my  poor  body  to 
work  upon,  and  you  will  be  as  far  as  ever  from  the  inside  of 
the  Garde  Doloureuse." 

The  King  looked  at  him  fixedly.  "  Thou  knowest,"  he, 
said,  "  the  law  of  arms  ;  here,  provost-marshal,  stands  a 
traitor  and  yonder  stands  a  tree," 

"And  here  is  a  throat,"  said  the  stout-hearted  Fleming, 
unbuttoning  the  collar  of  his  doublet. 

"  By  mine  honor,"  said  Prince  Richard,  "a  sturdy  and 
faithful  yeoman  !  It  were  better  send  such  fellows  their 
dinner,  and  then  buffet  it  out  with  them  for  the  castle,  than 
to  starve  them  as  the  beggarly  Frenchmen  famish  their 
hounds." 

"  Peace,  Pichard,"  said  his  father ;  "  thy  wit  is  over 
green,  and  thy  blood  over  hot,  to  make  thee  my  counselor 
here.  And  you,  knave,  speak  you  some  reasonable  terms, 
and  we  will  not  be  over  strict  with  thee." 

"First,  then,"  said  the  Fleming,  "I  stipulate  full  and 
free  pardon  for  life,  limb,  body,  and  goods  to  me,  Wilkin 
Flammock,  and  my  daughter  Rose." 

"  A  true  Fleming,"  said  Prince  John  ;  "he  takes  care  of 
himself  in  the  first  instance." 

"  His  request,"  said  the  King,  "  is  reasonable.  What 
next  ?" 

"  Safety  in  life,  honor,  and  land  for  the  demoiselle  Eve- 
line Berenger." 

"How,  sir  knave!"  said  the  King,  angrily,  ''is  it  for 
such  as  thou  to  dictate  to  our  judgment  or  clemency  in  the 
case  of  a  noble  Norman  lady  ?  Confine  thy  mediation  to 
such  as  thyself  ;  or  rather  render  us  this  castle  without 
farther  delay,  and  be  assured  thy  doing  so  will  be  of  more 
service  to  the  traitors  within  than  weeks  more  of  resistance, 
which  must  and  shall  be  bootless." 


THE  BETROTHED  271 

The  Fleming  stood  silent,  unwilling  to  surrender  without 
some  specific  terms,  yet  half  convinced,  from  the  situation 
in  which  he  had  left  the  garrison  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse, 
that  his  admitting  the  king's  forces  would  be,  perhaps,  the 
best  he  could  do  for  Lady  Eveline. 

"  I  like  thy  fidelity,  fellow,"  said  the  King,  whose  acute 
eye  perceived  the  struggle  in  the  Fleming's  bosom  ;  "  but 
cr.rry  not  thy  stubbornness  too  far.  Have  we  not  said  we 
will  be  gracious  to  yonder  offenders,  as  far  as  our  royal  duty 
will  permit  ?  " 

"And,  royal  father,"  said  Prince  John,  interposing,  "I 
pray  you  let  me  have  the  grace  to  take  first  possesfion  of 
the  Garde  Doloureuse,  and  the  wardsliip  or  forfeiture  of  the 
offending  lady." 

"  I  pray  you  also,  my  royal  father,  to  grant  John's  boon/' 
said  his  brother  Richard,  in  a  tone  of  mockery.  "  Consider, 
royal  father,  it  is  the  first  desire  he  hath  shown  to  approach 
the  barriers  of  the  castle,  though  we  liave  attacked  them 
forty  times  at  least.  Marry,  cross-bow  and  mangonel  were 
busy  on  the  former  occasions,  and  it  is  like  they  will  be 
silent  now." 

"Peace,  Richard,"  said  the  King;  "your  words,  aimed 
at  thy  brother's  honor,  pierce  my  heart.  John,  thou  hast 
thy  boon  as  concerns  the  castle  ;  for  this  unhappy  young 
lady,  we  will  take  her  in  our  own  charge.  Fleming,  how 
many  men  wilt  thou  undertake  to  admit  ?" 

Ere  Flammock  could  answer,  a  squire  approached  Prince 
Richard,  and  whispered  in  his  ear,  yet  so  as  to  be  heard  by 
all  present,  "  We  have  discovered  that  some  internal  dis- 
turbance, or  other  cause  unknown,  has  withdrawn  many  of 
the  warders  from  the  castle  walls  and  that  a  sudden  attack 
might " 

"  Dost  thou  hear  that,  John  ?"  exclaimed  Richard.  ''Lad- 
ders, man — get  ladders,  and  to  the  wall.  How  I  should  de- 
light to  see  thee  on  the  highest  round — thy  knees  shaking, 
thy  hands  grasping  convulsively,  like  those  of  one  in  an  ague 
fit — all  air  around  thee,  save  a  baton  or  two  of  wood — the  moat 
below — half  a  dozen  pikes  at  thy  throat " 

"  Peace,  Richard,  for  shame,  if  not  for  charity  ! "  said  his 
father,  in  a  tone  of  anger,  mingled  with  grief.  "And  thou, 
John,  get  ready  for  the  assault." 

"As  soon  as  I  have  put  on  my  armor,  father,"  answered 
the  prince  ;  and  withdrew  slowly,  with  a  visage  so  blank  as 
to  promise  no  speed  in  his  preparations. 

His  brother  laughed  as  he  retired,  and  said  to  his  squire. 


272  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

''  It  were  no  bad  jest,  Alberick,  to  carry  the  place  ere  John 
can  change  his  silk  doublet  for  a  steel  one." 

So  saying,  he  hastily  withdrew,  and  his  father  exclaimed 
in  paternal  distress,  "  Out,  alas  !  as  much  too  hot  as  his 
brother  IS  too  cold  ;  but  it  is  the  manlier  fault.  Gloucester," 
said  he  to  that  celebrated  earl,  "take  sufficient  strength 
and  follow  Prince  Eichard,  to  guard  and  sustain  him.  If 
any  one  can  rule  him,  it  must  be  a  knight  of  thy  established 
fame.  Alas  !  alas  !  for  what  sin  have  I  deserved  the  af- 
fliction of  these  cruel  family  feuds  ?" 

''  Be  comforted,  my  lord,"  said  the  chancellor,  who  was 
also  in  attendance. 

"Speak  not  of  comfort  to  a  father  whose  sons  are  at 
discord  with  each  other,  and  agree  only  in  their  disobedience 
to  him!" 

Thus  spoke  Henry  the  Second,  than  whom  no  wiser,  or, 
generally  speaking,  more  fortunate  monarch  ever  sat  upon 
the  throne  of  England  ;  yet  whose  life  is  a  striking  illus- 
tration how  family  dissensions  can  tarnish  the  most  brilliant 
lot  to  which  Heaven  permits  humanity  to  aspire,  and  how 
little  gratified  ambition,  extended  power,  and  the  highest 
reputation  in  war  and  in  peace  can  do  towards  curing  the 
wounds  of  domestic  affliction. 

The  sudden  and  fiery  attack  of  Richard,  who  hastened  to 
the  escalade  at  the  head  of  a  score  of  followers,  collected  at 
random,  had  the  complete  effect  of  surprise  ;  and  having 
surmounted  the  walls  with  their  ladders,  before  the  con- 
tending parties  within  were  almost  aware  of  the  assault,  the 
assailants  burst  open  the  gates,  and  admitted  Glo'.icester, 
Avho  had  hastily  followed  with  a  strong  body  of  men-at-arms. 
The  garrison,  in  their  state  of  surprise,  confusion,  and 
disunion,  offered  but  little  resistance,  and  would  hav 
been  put  to  the  sword,  and  the  place  plundered,  had  not 
Henry  himself  entered  it,  and,  by  his  personal  exertions 
and  authority,  restrained  the  excesses  of  the  dissolute  sol- 
di ei-y. 

The  King  conducted  himself,  considering  the  times  and 
the  provocation,  with  laudable  moderation.  He  contented 
himself  with  disarming  and  dismissing  the  common  soldiers, 
giving  them  some  trifle  to  carry  them  out  of  the  country, 
lest  want  should  lead  them  to  form  themselves  into  bands 
of  robbers.  The  officers  were  more  severely  treated,  being 
for  the  greater  part  thrown  into  dungeons,  to  abide  the 
course  of  the  law.  In  particular,  imprisonment  was  the  lot 
of  Damian  de  Lacy,  against  whom,  believing  the  various  charges 


THE  BET RO TEED  273 

mth  which  he  was  loaded,  Henry  was  so  highly  incensed, 
that  he  proposed  to  make  him  an  example  to  all  false 
knights  and  disloyal  subjects.  To  the  Lady  Eveline  Beren- 
ger  he  assigned  her  own  apartment  as  a  prison,  in  which 
she  was  honorably  attended  by  Rose  and  Alice,  but  guarded 
with  the  utmost  strictness.  It  was  generally  reported  that 
her  demesnes  would  be  declared  a  forfeiture  to  the  crown, 
and  bestowed,  at  least  in  part,  upon  Eandal  de  Lacy,  who 
had  done  good  service  during  the  siege.  Her  person,  it 
was  thought,  was  destined  to  the  seclusion  of  some  distant 
French  nunnery,  where  she  might  at  leisure  repent  her  of 
her  follies  and  her  rashness. 

Father  Aldrovand  was  delivered  up  to  the  discipline  of 
his  convent,  long  experience  having  very  effectually  taught 
Henry  the  imprudence  of  infringing  on  the  privileges  of  the 
church  ;  although,  when  the  King  first  beheld  him  with  a 
rusty  corslet  clasped  over  his  frock,  he  with  difficulty  re- 
pressed the  desire  to  cause  him  to  be  hanged  over  the  battle- 
ments, to  preach  to  the  ravens. 

With  Wilkin  Flammock,  Henry  held  much  conference, 
particularly  on  the  subject  of  manufactures  and  commerce  ; 
on  which  the  sound-headed,  though  blunt-spoken,  Fleming 
was  well  qualified  to  instruct  an  intelligent  monarch.  "  Thy 
intentions,"  he  said,  "  shall  not  be  forgotten,  good  fellow, 
though  they  have  been  anticipated  by  the  headlong  valor  of 
my  son  Richard,  which  has  cost  some  poor  caitiffs  their 
lives  :  Richard  loves  not  to  sheathe  a  bloodless  weapon.  But 
thou  and  thy  countrymen  shall  return  to  thy  mills  yonder, 
with  a  full  pardon  for  past  offenses,  so  that  you  meddle  no 
more  with  such  treasonable  matters." 

"And  our  privileges  and  duties,  my  liege  ?"  said  Flam- 
mock.  "  Your  Majesty  knows  well  we  are  vassals  to  the 
lord  of  this  castle,  and  must  follow  him  in  battle." 

"  It  shall  no  longer  be  so,"  said  Henry  :  "  1  will  form  a 
community  of  Flemings  here,  and  thou,  Flammock,  shalt  be 
mayor,  that  thou  mayst  not  plead  feudal  obedience  for  a 
relapse  into  treason." 

''  Treason,  my  liege  ! "  said  Flammock,  longing,  yet  scarce 
venturing,  to  interpose  a  word  in  behalf  of  Lady  Eveline, 
for  whom,  despite  the  constitutional  coolness  of  his  tem- 
perament, he  really  felt  much  interest — "I  would  that 
vour  Grace  but  justly  knew  how  many  threads  went  to  that 
woof.'' 

''  Peace,  sirrah  !  meddle  with  your  loom,"  said  Henry ; 
"  aud  if  we  deign  to  speak  to  thee  concerning  the  mechani- 
t8 


274  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

cal  arts  v/hich  thou  dost  profess,  take  it  for  no  warrant  to 
intrude  farther  on  our  privacy." 

The  Fleming  retired,  rebuked,  and  in  silence  ;  and  the 
fate  of  the  unhappy  prisoners  remained  in  the  King's  bosom. 
He  himself  took  up  his  lodging  in  the  castle  of  the  Garde 
Doloureuse,  as  a  convenient  station  for  sending  abroad  par- 
ties to  suppress  and  extinguish  all  the  embers  of  rebellion  ; 
and  so  active  was  Randal  de  Lacy  on  these  occasions,  that 
he  appeared  daily  to  rise  in  the  King's  grace,  and  was  grati- 
fied with  considerable  grants  out  of  the  domains  of  Berenger 
and  Lacy,  which  the  King  seemed  already  to  treat  as  for- 
feited property.  Most  men  considered  this  growing  favor  of 
Randal  as  a  perilous  omen,  both  for  the  life  of  young  De 
Lacy  and  for  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  Eveline. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

A  vow,  a  vow— I  have  a  vow  in  Heaven. 
Shall  I  bring  perjury  upon  my  soul  ? 
No,  not  for  Venice. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  conclusion  of  the  last  chapter  contains  the  tidings  with 
which  the  minstrel  greeted  his  unliappy  master,  Hugo  de 
L;icv  ;  not  indeed  with  the  same  detail  of  circumstances 
with  which  we  have  been  able  to  invest  the  narrative,  but  so 
as  to  infer  the  general  and  appalling  facts,  that  his  betrothed 
bride  and  beloved  and  trusted  kinsman  had  leagued  together 
for  his  dishonor,  had  raised  the  banner  of  rebellion  against 
their  lawful  sovereign,  and,  failing  in  their  audacious  at- 
tempt, had  brought  tlie  life  of  one  of  them,  at  least,  into  the 
most  imminent  danger,  and  the  fortunes  of  the  house  of 
Lacy,  unless  some  instant  remedy  could  be  found,  to  the 
very  verge  of  ruin. 

Vidal  marked  the  countenance  of  his  master  as  he  spoke, 
with  the  same  keen  observation  whicli  the  chirurgeon  gives 
to  the  progress  of  his  dissecting-knife.  There  was  grief  on 
the  Coustable's  features — deep  grief,  but  without  the  ex- 
pression of  abasement  or  prostration  wdiich  usually  accom- 
panies it  ;  anger  and  shame  were  there,  but  they  were  both 
of  a  noble  character,  seemingly  excited  by  his  bride  and 
nephew's  transgressing  the  laws  of  allegiance,  honor,  and 
virtue,  rather  tlian  by  the  disgrace  and  damage  which  he 
himself  sustained  through  their  crime. 

The  minstrel  was  so  much  astonished  at  this  change  of 
deportment  from  the  sensitive  acuteness  of  agony  whicli 
attended  the  beginning  of  his  narrative,  that  he  stepped 
back  two  paces,  and  gazing  on  the  Constable  with  wonder, 
mixed  with  admiration,  exclaimed,  "  We  have  heard  of 
martyrs  in  Palestine,  but  this  exceeds  them  ! " 

"  Wonder  not  so  much,  good  friend,"  said  the  Constable, 
patiently  ;  "  it  is  the  first  blow  of  the  lance  or  mace  which 
pierces  or  stuns  ;  those  which  follow  are  little  felt."  * 

"  Think,  my  lord,"  said  Vidal,  ''  all  is  lost — love,  domin- 
ion, high  office,  and  bright  fame  :  so  late  a  chief  among 
nobles,  now  a  poor  palmer  \" 

*  See  Sensibility  to  Pain.     Note  18. 

275 


276  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Wouldst  tliou  make  sport  with  my  misery  ?  '*  said  Hugo, 
sternly  ;  "but  even  that  comes,  of  course,  behind  my  back, 
and  why  should  it  not  be  endured  when  said  to  my  face  ? 
Know,  then,  minstrel,  and  jjut  it  in  song  if  you  list,  that 
Hugo  de  Lacy,  having  lost  all  he  carried  to  Palestine,  and 
all  which  he  left  at  home,  is  still  lord  of  his  own  mind  ;  and 
adversity  can  no  more  shake  him  than  the  breeze  which 
strips  the  oak  of  its  leaves  can  tear  up  the  trunk  by  the 
roots." 

"  Now,  by  the  tomb  of  my  father,''  said  the  minstrel,  rapt- 
urously, "  this  man's  nobleness  is  too  much  for  my  re- 
solve I "  and  stepping  hastily  to  the  Constable,  he  kneeled  on 
one  knee,  and  caught  his  hand  more  freely  than  the  state 
maintained  by  men  of  De  Lacy's  rank  usually  permitted. 

"  Here,"  said  Vidal,  "  on  this  hand — this  noble  hand,  I 
renounce " 

But,  ere  he  could  utter  another  word,  Hugo  de  Lacy, 
who,  perhaps,  felt  the  freedom  of  the  action  as  an  intrusion 
on  his  fallen  condition,  pulled  back  his  hand,  and  bid  the 
minstrel,  with  a  stern  frown,  arise,  and  remember  that  mis- 
fortune made  not  De  Lacy  a  fit  personage  for  a  mummery. 

Renault  Vidai  rose  rebuked.  "I  had  forgot,"  he  said, 
''the  distance  between  an  Armorican  violer  and  a  high 
Norman  baron.  I  thought  that  the  same  depth  of  sorrow, 
the  same  burst  of  joy,  leveled,  for  a  moment  at  least,  those 
artificial  barriers  by  which  men  are  divided.  But  it  is  well 
as  it  is.  Live  within  the  limits  of  your  rank,  as  heretofore 
within  your  donjon  tower  and  your  fosses,  my  lord,  undis- 
turbed by  the  sympathy  of  any  mean  man  like  me.  I,  too, 
have  my  duties  to  discharge." 

"And  now  to  the  Garde  Doloureuse,"  said  the  baron, 
turning  to  Philip  Guarine — "  God  knoweth  how  well  it  de- 
serveth  the  name  ' — there  to  learn,  with  our  own  eyes  and 
ears,  the  truth  of  these  woful  tidings.  Dismount,  minstrel, 
and  give  me  thy  palfrey.  I  would,  Guarine,  that  I  had  one 
for  thee  ;  as  for  Vidal,  his  attendance  is  less  necessary.  I 
will  face  my  foes,  or  my  misfortunes,  like  a  man — that  be 
assured  of,  violer ;  and  look  not  so  sullen,  knave — I  will  not 
forget  old  adherents." 

"One  of  them,  at  least,  will  not  forget  you,  my  lord," 
replied  the  minstrel,  with  his  usual  dubious  tone  of  look 
and  emphasis. 

But,  just  as  the  Constable  was  about  to  prick  forwards, 
two  persons  appeared  on  the  path,  mounted  on  one  horse, 
who,  hidden  by  some  dwarf-wood,  had  come  very  near  them 


I: 


[ 


THE  BETROTHED  277 


without  being  perceived.  They  were  male  and  female  ;  and 
tho  man,  who  rode  foremost,  was  such  a  picture  of  famine 
as  the  eyes  of  the  pilgrims  had  scarce  witnessed  in  all  the 
wasted  lands  through  which  they  had  traveled.  His  feat- 
ures, naturally  sharp  and  thin,  had  disappeared  almost 
entirely  among  the  uncombed  gray  beard  and  hnirs  with 
which  they  were  overshadowed  ;  and  it  was  but  the  glimpse 
of  a  long  iiose,  that  seemed  as  sharp  as  the  edge  of  a  knife, 
and  the  twinkling  sparkle  of  his  gray  eyes,  which  gave  any 
intimation  of  his  lineaments.  His  leg,  in  the  wide  old  boot 
whicli  inclosed  it,  looked  like  tlie  handle  of  a  mop  left  by 
chance  in  a  pail  ;  his  arms  were  about  the  thickness  of 
ciding-rods  ;  and  such  parts  of  his  person  as  were  not  con- 
cealed by  the  tatters  of  a  huntsman's  cassock  seemed  rather 
the  appendages  of  a  mummy  than  a  live  man. 

The  female  who  sat  behind  this  specter  exhibited  also 
some  symptoms  of  extenuation  ;  but,  being  a  brave,  jolly 
dame  naturally,  famine  had  not  been  able  to  render  her  a 
spectacle  so  rueful  as  the  anatomy  behind  which  she  rode. 
Dame  Gillian's  cheek  (  for  it  was  reader's  old  acquaintance) 
had  indeed  lost  the  rosy  hue  of  good  cheer  and  the  smooth- 
ness of  complexion  which  art  and  easy  living  had  formerly 
substituted  for  the  more  delicate  bloom  of  youth  ;  her  eyes 
were  sunken,  and  had  lost  much  of  their  bold  and  roguish 
luster  ;  but  she  was  still  in  some  measure  herself,  and  the 
remnants  of  former  finery,  together  with  the  tight-drawn 
scarlet  hose,  tliough  sorely  faded,  showed  still  a  remnant  of 
coquettish  pretension. 

So  soon  as  she  came  within  sight  of  the  pilgrims  she  began 
to  punch  Raoul  with  the  end  of  her  riding-rod,  ''Try  thy 
new  trade,  man,  since  thou  art  unfit  for  any  other — to  the 
good  men — to  them,  crave  their  charity." 

"Beg  from  beggars!"  muttered  Kaoul ;  ''that  were 
hawking  at  sparrows,  dame." 

"  It  will  bring  our  hand  in  use  though,"  said  Gillian  ;  and 
commenced,  in  a  whining  tone,  "  God  love  you,  holy  men 
!  who  have  had  the  grace  to  go  to  the  Holy  Land,  and,  what 
is  more,  have  had  the  grace  to  come  back  again — I  pray, 
bestow  some  of  your  alms  upon  my  poor  old  husband,  who 
is  a  miserable  object,  as  you  see,  and  upon  one  who  has  the 
bad  luck  to  be  his  wife — Heaven  help  me  ! " 

"  Peace,  woman,  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say,"  said  the 
Constable,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  bridle  of  the  horse.  *'  I 
have  present  occasion  for  that  horse  and " 

**  By  the  hunting-horn  of  St.  Hubert,  but  thou  gettest 


278  WAVEhLEY  JSOVELS 

him  not  without  blows  ! "  answered  the  old  huntsman.     *•  A 

fine  world  it  is,  wlien  palmers  turn  horse-stealers." 

"Peace,  fellow  \"  said  the  Constable,  sternly.  "I  say  I 
have  occasion  presently  for  the  service  of  thy  horse.  Here 
be  two  gold  bezants  for  a  day's  use  of  the  brute  ;  it  is  well 
worth  the  fee-simple  of  him,  were  he  never  returned." 

"  But  the  palfrey  is  an  old  acquaintance,  master,"  said 
Eaoul  ;  "  and  if  perchance " 

"  Out  upon  '  if  '  and  '  perchance '  both/'  said  the  dame, 
giving  her  husband  so  determined  a  thrust  as  wellnigh  pushed 
him  out  of  the  saddle.  "Off  the  horse!  and  thank  God 
and  this  worthy  man  for  the  help  He  has  sent  us  in  extremity. 
What  signifies  the  2:)alfrey,  when  Ave  have  not  enough  to  get 
food  either  for  the  brute  or  ourselves,  not  though  we  would 
eat  grass  and  corn  with  him,  like  King  Somebody,  whom 
the  good  father  used  to  read  us  to  sleep  about  ?" 

"  A  truce  with  your  prating,  dame,"  said  Raoul,  offering 
his  assistance  to  help  her  from  the  croupe  ;  but  she  pre- 
ferred that  of  Guarine,  who,  though  advanced  in  years, 
retained  the  advantage  of  his  stout  soldierly  figure. 

"I  humbly  thank  your  goodness,"  said  she,  as,  having 
first  kissed  her,  the  squire  set  her  on  the  ground.  "And 
pray,  sir,  are  ye  come  from  the  Holy  Land  ?  Heard  ye  any 
tidings  there  of  him  that  was  Constable  of  Chester  ?  " 

De  Lacy,  who  was  engaged  in  removing  the  pillion  from 
behind  the  saddle,  stopped  short  in  his  task,  and  said,  "  Ha, 
dame  !  wliat  would  you  with  him  ?  " 

"  A  great  deal,  good  palmer,  an  I  could  light  on  him,  for 
his  lands  and  offices  are  all  to  be  given,  it's  like,  to  that  false 
thief,  his  kinsman." 

"  What !  to  Damian,  his  nephew  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Con- 
stable, in  harsh  and  hasty  tone. 

"  Lord,  how  you  startle  me,  sir  !"  said  Gillian  ;  then  con- 
tinued, turning  to  Philip  Guarine,  "  Your  friend  is  a  hasty 
man,  belike." 

"'  It  is  the  fault  of  the  sun  he  has  lived  under  so  long," 
said  the  squire  ;  "  but  look  you  answer  his  questions  truly, 
and  he  will  make  it  the  better  for  you." 

Gillian  instantly  took  the  hint.  "  Was  it  Damian  de  Lac; 
you  asked  after  ?  Alas  !  poor  young  gentleman  !  no  offic 
or  lands  for  him  ;  more  likely  to  have  a  gallows-cast,  poo; 
lad,  and  all  for  nought,  as  I  am  a  true  dame.  Damian  !  m 
— no,  it  is  not  Damian,  nor  damson  neither,  but  Eand 
Lacy,  that  must  rule  the  roast,  and  have  all  the  old  man 
lands,  and  livings,  and  lordships." 


THE  BETROTHED  279 

"  What ! "  said  the  Constable,  "  before  they  know  whether 
the  old  man  is  dead  or  no  ?  Methinks  that  were  against 
law  and  reason  both." 

"  Ay,  but  Randal  Lacy  has  brought  about  less  likely  mat- 
ters. Look  you,  he  hath  sAvorn  to  the  King  that  they  have 
true  tidings  of  the  Constable's  death  ;  ay,  and  let  him  alone 
to  make  them  soothfast  enough,  if  the  Constable  were  once 
within  his  danger." 

"  Lideed  !"  said  the  Constable.  "But  you  are  forging 
tales  on  a  noble  gentleman.  Come — come,  dame,  you  say 
this  because  you  like  not  Randal  Lacy." 

"  Like  him  not  !  And  what  reason  have  I  to  like  him,  I 
trow  ?"  answered  Gillian.  "  Is  it  because  he  seduced  my 
simplicity  to  let  him  into  the  castle  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse 
— ay,  oftener  than  once  or  twice  either — when  he  was  dis- 
guised as  a  pedler,  and  told  him  all  the  secrets  of  the  family, 
and  how  the  boy  Damian  and  the  girl  Eveline  were  dying  of 
love  with  each  other,  but  had  not  courage  to  say  a  word  of 
it  for  fear  of  the  Constable,  though  he  were  a  thousand  miles 
off?  You  seem  concerned,  worthy  sir;  may  I  offer  your 
reverend  worship  a  trifling  sup  from  my  bottle,  which  is 
sovereign  for  tremor  cordis  and  fits  of  the  spleen  ?" 

"  No — no,"  ejaculated  De  Lacy  ;  "■  I  was  but  grieved  with 
the  shooting  of  an  old  wound.  But,  dame,  I  warrant  me 
this  Damian  and  Eveline,  as  you  call  them,  became  better, 
closer  friends  in  time  ?" 

"  They  !  not  they  indeed,  poor  simpletons  !  "  answered  the 
dame;  ''they  wanted  some  wise  counselor  to  go  between 
and  advise  them.  For,  look  you,  sir,  if  old  Hugo  be  dead, 
as  is  most  like,  it  were  more  natural  that  his  bride  and  his 
nephew  should  inherit  his  lands  than  this  same  Randal,  who 
is  but  a  distant  kinsman,  and  a  forsworn  caitiff  to  boot. 
Would  you  think  it,  reverend  pilgrim,  after  the  mountains 
of  gold  he  promised  me,  when  the  castle  was  taken,  and  he 
saw  I  could  serve  him  no  more,  he  called  me  old  beldame, 
and  spoke  of  the  beadle  and  the  cucking-stool  ?  Yes, 
reverend  sir,  old  beldame  and  cucking-stool  were  his  best 
words  when  he  knew  I  had  no  one  to  take  my  part  save  old 
Raoul,  who  cannot  take  his  own.  But  if  grim  old  Hugo 
bring  back  his  weather-beaten  carcass  from  Palestine,  and 
have  but  half  the  devil  in  him  which  he  had  when  he  was 
fool  enough  to  go  away,  St.  Mary,  but  I  will  do  his  kins- 
man's office  to  him  !" 

There  was  a  pause  when  she  had  done  speaking. 

**  Thou  say'st,"  at  length  exclaimed  the  Constable,  "  that 


280  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

Damiaii  de  Lacy  and  Eveline  love  each  otlier,  yet  are  uncon- 
scious of  guilt,  or  falsehood,  or  ingratitude  to  me — I  would 
say,  to  their  relative  in  Palestine  ?  " 

"  Love,  sir  !  in  troth  and  so  it  is.  They  do  love  each 
other,"  said  Gillian,  "  but  it  is  like  angels,  or  like  lambs — ■ 
or  like  fools,  if  you  will  ;  for  they  would  never  so  much  aa 
have  spoken  together,  but  for  a  prank  of  that  same  Eandal 
Lacy's." 

"■  How  !  "  demanded  the  Constable — "  a  prank  of  Ean- 
dal's  ?     What  motive  had  he  that  these  two  should  meet  ?" 

"  Nay,  their  meeting  was  none  of  his  seeking  ;  but  he  liad 
formed  a  plan  to  carry  off  the  Lady  Eveline  himself,  for  he 
was  a  wild  rover,  this  same  Eandal,  and  so  he  came  dis- 
guised as  a  merchant  of  falcons,  and  trained  out  my  old 
stupid  Eaoul,  and  the  Lady  Eveline,  and  all  of  us,  as  if  to 
have  an  hour's  mirth  in  hawking  at  the  heron.  But  he  had 
a  band  of  Welsh  kites  in  readiness  to  pounce  upon  us  ;  and, 
but  for  the  sudden  making  in  a  Damian  to  our  rescue,  it  is 
undescribable  to  think  what  might  have  come  of  us  ;  and 
Damian,  being  hurt  in  the  onslaught,  was  carried  to  the 
Garde  Doloureuse  in  mere  necessity  ;  and  but  to  save  his 
life,  it  is  my  belief  my  lady  would  never  have  asked  him  to 
cross  the  drawbridge,  even  if  he  had  offered." 

''  Woman,"  said  the  Constable,  "  think  what  thou  say'st ! 
If  thou  hast  done  evil  in  these  matters  heretofore,  as  I 
suspect  from  thine  own  story,  thiiik  not  to  put  it  right  by  a 
train  of  new  falsehoods,  merely  from  spite  at  missing  thy 
reward." 

"  Palmer,"  said  old  Eaoul,  with  his  broken-toned  voice, 
cracked  by  many  a  halloo,  "  I  am  wont  to  leave  the  business 
of  tale-bearing  to  my  wife  Gillian,  who  will  tongue-pad  it 
with  any  shrew  in  Christendom.  But  thou  speak'st  like  one 
having  some  interest  in  these  matters,  and  tlierefore  I  will 
tell  thee  plainly,  that,  although  this  woman  has  published 
her  own  shame  in  avowing  her  correspondence  with  that 
same  Eandal  Lacy,  yet  what  she  has  said  is  true  as  the 
Gospel  ;  and,  were  it  my  last  word,  I  wouldsay  that  Damian 
and  the  Lady  Eveline  are  innocent  of  all  treason  and  all 
dishonesty,  as  is  the  babe  unborn.  But  what  avails  what 
the  like  of  us  say,  who  are  even  driven  to  the  very  begging, 
for  mere  support,  after  having  lived  at  a  good  house  and  in 
a  good  lord's  service — blessing  be  with  him  ! " 

"But  hark  you,"  continued  the  Constable,  *^are  there  left 
no  ancient  servants  of  the  house,  that  could  speak  out 
well  as  you  ?  " 


THE  BETROTHED  281 

"  Humph  !"  answered  the  huntsman,  "  men  are  not  will- 
ing to  babble  when  Eandal  Lacy  is  cracking  his  thong  above 
their  heads.  Many  are  slain  or  starved  to  death,  some  dis- 
])osed  of,  some  spirited  away.  But  there  are  the  weaver 
Flammock  and  his  daughter  Rose,  who  know  as  much  of 
the  matter  as  we  do." 

"  What !  Wilkin  Flammock,  the  stout  Netherlander," 
said  the  Constable — "  he  and  his  blunt  but  true  daughter 
Rose  ?  I  will  venture  my  life  on  their  faith.  Where  dwell 
they  ?     What  has  been  their  lot  amidst  tliese  changes  ?  " 

"And  in  God's  name  who  are  you  that  ask  these  ques- 
tions ?  "  said  Dame  Gillian.  "  Husband — husband,  we  have 
been  too  free  ;  there  is  something  in  that  look  and  that  tone 
which  I  should  remember." 

"  Yes,  look  at  me  more  fixedly,"  said  the  Constable, 
throwing  back  the  hood  which  had  hitherto  in  a  great  de- 
gree obscured  his  features. 

"  On  your  knees — on  your  knees,  Raoul,"  exclaimed  Gil- 
lian, dropping  on  her  own  at  the  same  time;  ''it  is  the 
Constable  himself,  and  he  has  heard  me  call  him  old  Hugo  ! " 

'*  It  is  all  that  is  left  of  him  who  was  the  Constable,  at 
least,"  replied  De  Lacy  ;  ''and  old  Hugo  willingly  forgives 
your  freedom,  in  consideration  of  your  good  news.  Where 
are  Flammock  and  his  daughter  ?" 

"Rose  is  with  the  Lady  Eveline,"  said  Dame  Gillian; 
"  her  ladyship,  belike,  chose  her  for  bower-woman  in  place 
of  me,  although  Rose  was  never  fit  to  attire  so  much  as  a 
Dutch  doll." 

"  The  faithful  girl ! "  said  the  Constable.  "  And  where 
is  Flammock  ?  " 

"  Oh,  for  him,  he  has  pardon  and  favor  from  the  King," 
said  Raoul,  "and  is  at  his  own  house,  with  his  rabble  of 
weavers,  close  beside  the  Battlebridge,  as  they  now  call  the 
place  where  your  lordship  quelled  the  Welsh." 

"  Thither  will  I  then,"  said  the  Constable  ;  "  and  will 
then  see  what  welcome  King  Henry  of  Anjou  has  for  an 
old  servant.     You  two  must  accompany  me." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Gillian,  with  hesitation,  "  you  know  poor 
folk  are  little  thanked  for  interference  with  great  men's  af- 
fairs. I  trust  your  lordship  will  be  able  to  protect  us  if  we 
leak  the  truth,  and  that  you  will  not  look  back  with  dis- 

easure  on  what  I  did,  acting  for  the  best." 

"  Peace,  dame,  with  a  wanion  to  ye  !  "  said  Raoul.  "  Will 
you  think  of  your  own  old  sinful  carcass,  when  you  should  be 
saving  your  sweet  young  mistress  from  shame  and  oppres- 


sp 


282  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

sion  ?  And  for  thy  ill  tongue,  and  worse  practises,  his 
lordship  knows  they  are  bred  in  the  bone  of  thee/' 

"  Peace,  good  fellow  !  "said  the  Constable  ;  "  we  will  not 
look  back  on  thy  wife's  errors,  and  your  fidelity  shall  be  re- 
warded. For  you,  my  faithful  followers,"  he  said,  turning 
towards  Guariue  and  Vidal,  "  when  De  Lacy  shall  receive 
his  rights,  of  which  he  doubts  nothing,  his  first  wish  shall 
be  to  reward  your  fidelity." 

"  Mine,  such  as  it  is,  has  been  and  shall  be  its  own  re- 
ward," said  Vidal.  "I  will  not  accept  favors  from  him  in 
prosperity  who  in  adversity  refused  me  his  hand  :  our  ac- 
count stands  yet  open." 

"Go  to,  thou  art  a  fool  ;  but  thy  profession  hath  a  privi- 
lege to  be  humorous,"  said  the  Constable,  whose  weather- 
beaten  and  homely  features  looked  even  handsome  when 
animated  by  gratitude  to  Heaven  and  benevolence  towards 
mankind.  "  We  will  meet,"  he  said  "at  Battlebridge,  an 
hour  before  [after]  vespers  ;  I  shall  have  much  achieved 
before  that  time." 

"  The  space  is  short,"  said  the  esquire. 

"I  have  won  a  battle  in  yet  shorter,"  replied  the  Con- 
stable. 

"  In  which,"  said  the  minstrel,  "  many  a  man  has  died 
that  thought  himself  well  assured  of  life  and  victory." 

"  Even  so  shall  my  dangerous  cousin  Eandal  find  his 
schemes  of  ambition  blighted,"  answered  the  Constable  ; 
and  rode  forwards,  accompanied  by  Raoul  and  his  wife, 
who  had  remounted  their  palfrey,  while  the  minstrel  and 
squire  followed  a-foot,  and,  of  course,  much  more  slowly. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Oh,  fear  not,  fear  not,  good  Lord  John, 

That  I  would  you  betray, 
Or  sue  requital  for  a  debt, 

Which  nature  cannot  pay. 

Bear  witness,  all  ye  sacred  powers, 

Ye  lights  that  'gin  to  shine, 
This  night  shall  prove  the  sacred  tie 

That  binds  your  faith  and  mine. 

Aiicient  Scottish  Ballad. 

Left  behind  by  their  master,  the  two  dependants  of  Hugo 
de  Lacy  marched  on  in  sullen  silence,  like  men  who  dislike 
and  distrust  each  other,  though  bound  to  one  common  ser- 
vice, and  partners,  therefore,  in  the  same  hopes  and  fears. 
The  dislike,  indeed,  was  chiefly  upon  Guarine's  side,  for 
nothing  could  be  more  indifferent  to  Eenault  Vidal  than 
was  his  companion,  farther  than  as  he  was  conscious  that 
Philip  loved  him  not,  and  was  not  unlikely,  so  far  as  lay  in 
his  power,  to  thwart  some  plans  which  he  had  nearly  at 
heart.  He  took  little  notice  of  his  companion,  but  hummed 
over  to  himself,  as  for  the  exercise  of  his  memory,  romances 
and  songs,  many  of  which  were  composed  in  languages 
which  Guarine,  who  had  only  an  ear  for  his  native  Norman, 
did  not  understand. 

They  had  proceeded  together  in  this  sullen  manner  for 
nearly  two  hours,  when  they  were  met  by  a  groom  on  horse- 
back, leading  a  saddled  palfrey.  "  Pilgrims,"  said  the  man, 
after  looking  at  them  with  some  attention,  "  which  of  you 
is  called  Philip  Guarine  ?" 

"  I,  for  fault  of  a  better,'*  said  the  esquire,  "  reply  to  that 
name." 

"  Thy  lord,  in  that  case,  commends  him  to  you,**  said  the 
groom  ;  "  and  sends  you  this  token,  by  which  you  shall 
know  that  I  am  his  true  messenger.** 

He  showed  the  esquire  a  rosary,  which  Philip  instantly 
recognized  as  that  used  by  the  Constable. 

"I  acknowledge  the  token,**  he  said  ;  "speak  my  mas- 
ter*s  pleasure." 

**  He  bids  me  say,**  replied  the  rider,  **that  his  visit 


884  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

thrives  as  well  as  is  possible,  and  that  this  very  evening,  by 
time  that  the  sun  sets,  he  will  be  possessed  of  his  own.  He 
desires,  therefore,  you  will  mount  this  palfrey,  and  come 
with  me  to  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  as  your  presence  will  be 
wanted  there." 

"  It  is  well,  and  I  obey  him,"  said  the  esquire,  much 
pleased  with  the  import  of  the  message,  and  not  dissatisfied 
at  being  separated  from  his  traveling  companion. 

"And  what  charge  for  me  ?"  said  the  minstrel,  address- 
ing the  messenger. 

"  If  you,  as  r  guess,  are  the  minstrel,  Renault  Vidal,  yon 
are  to  abide  your  master  at  the  Battlebridge,  according  to 
the  charge  formerly  given." 

"  I  Avill  meet  him,  as  in  duty  bound,"  was  Vidal's  answer; 
and  scarce  was  it  uttered,  ere  the  two  horsemen,  turning 
their  backs  on  him,  rode  briskly  forward,  and  were  speedily 
out  of  sight. 

It  was  now  four  hours  past  noon,  and  the  sun  was  declin- 
ing, yet  there  was  more  than  three  hours'  space  to  the  time 
of  rendezvous,  and  the  distance  from  the  place  did  not  now 
exceed  four  miles.  Vidal,  therefore,  either  for  the  sake  of 
rest  or  reflection,  withdrew  from  the  path  into  a  thicket  on 
the  left  hand,  from  which  gushed  the  waters  of  a  stream- 
let, fed  by  a  small  fountain  that  bubbled  up  amongst  the 
trees.  Here  the  traveler  sat  liimself  down,  and  with  an  air 
which  seemed  unconscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  bent  his 
eye  on  the  little  sparkling  font  for  more  than  half  an  hour, 
without  change  of  posture  ;  so  that  he  might,  in  pagan 
times,  have  represented  the  statue  of  a  water-god  bending 
over  his  urn,  and  attentive  only  to  the  supplies  which  it  was 
pouring  forth.  At  length,  however,  he  seemed  to  recall 
himself  from  this  state  of  deep  abstraction,  drew  himself 
up,  and  took  some  coarse  food  from  his  pilgrim's  scrip,  as 
if  suddenly  reminded  that  life  is  not  supported  without 
means.  But  he  had  probably  something  at  his  heart  which 
affected  his  throat  or  appetite.  After  a  vain  attempt  to 
swallow  a  morsel,  he  threw  it  from  him  in  disgust,  and  ap- 
plied him  to  a  small  flask,  in  which  he  had  some  wine  or 
other  liquor.  But  seemingly  this  also  turned  distasteful, 
for  he  threw  from  him  both  scrip  and  bottle,  and,  bending 
down  to  the  spring,  drank  deeply  of  the  pure  element, 
bathed  in  it  his  hands  and  face,  and,  arising  from  the  foun- 
tain apparently  refreshed,  moved  slowly  on  his  way,  singing 
as  he  went,  but  in  a  low  and  saddened  tone,  wild  fragments 
of  ancient  poetry,  in  a  tongue  equally  ancient. 


THE  BETROTHED  285 

Journeying  on  in  this  melancholy  manner,  he  at  length 
came  in  sight  of  the  Battlebridge  ;  near  to  which  arose,  in 
proud  and  gloomy  strength,  the  celebrated  castle  of  the  Garde 
Doloureuse.  "  Here,  then,''  he  said — "  here,  then,  I  am  to 
await  the  proud  De  Lacy.  Be  it  so,  in  God's  name  !  he 
shall  know  me  better  ere  we  part/' 

"  So  saying,  he  strode,  with  long  and  resolved  steps,  across 
the  bridge,  and  ascending  a  mound  which  arose  on  the  oppo- 
site side  at  some  distance,  he  gazed  for  a  time  upon  the  scene 
beneath — the  beautiful  river,  rich  with  the  reflected  tints  of 
the  western  sky  ;  the  trees,  which  were  already  brightened 
to  the  eye,  and  saddened  to  the  fancy,  with  the  hue  of 
autumn  ;  and  the  darksome  walls  and  towers  of  the  feudal 
castle,  from  which,  at  times,  flashed  a  glimpse  of  splendor, 
as  some  sentinel's  arms  caught  and  gave  back  a  transient  ray 
of  the  setting  sun. 

The  countenance  of  the  minstrel,  which  had  hitherto  been 
dark  and  troubled,  seemed  softened  by  the  quiet  of  the  scene. 
He  threw  loose  his  pilgrim's  dress,  yet  suffering  part  of  its 
dark  folds  to  hang  around  him  mantle-wise  ;  under  which 
appeared  his  minstrel's  tabard.  He  took  from  his  side  a  rote, 
and  striking,  from  time  to  time,  a  Welsh  descant,  sung  at 
others  a  lay,  of  which  we  can  offer  only  a  few  fragments, 
literally  translated  from  the  ancient  language  in  which  they 
were  chanted,  premising  that  they  are  in  that  excursive 
symbolical  style  of  poetry  which  Taliessin,  Llewarch  Hen, 
and  other  bards  had  derived  perhaps  from  the  time  of  the 
Druids. 

I  asked  of  my  harp,  "  Who  hath  injured  thy  chords  ?  " 
And  she  replied,  "  The  crooked  finger,  which  I  mocked  in  my  tune." 
A  blade  of  silver  may  be  bended  ;  a  blade  of  steel  abideth. 
Kindness  fadeth  away,  but  vengeance  endui-eth. 

The  sweet  taste  of  mead  passeth  from  the  lips ; 

But  they  are  long  corroded  by  the  juice  of  wormwood. 

The  lamb  is  brought  to  the  shambles,  but  the  wolf  rangeth  the 

mountain. 
Kindness  fadeth  away,  but  vengeance  endm-eth. 

I  asked  the  red-hot  iron,  when  it  glimmered  on  the  anvil, 
"  Wherefore  glowest  thou  longer  than  the  firebrand  ?  " 
'  I  was  born  in  the  dark  mine,  and  the  brand  in  the  pleasant  green- 
wood." 
Kindness  fadeth  away,  but  vengeance  endureth. 

T  asked  the  green  oak  of  the  assembly,  wherefore  its  boughs  were 

dry  and  seared  like  the  horns  of  the  stag, 
Lnd  it  showed  me  that  a  small  worm  had  gnawed  its  roots. 


286  iVA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

The  boy  who  remembered  the  scourge,  undid  the  wicket  of  the  cas- 
tle at  midnight. 
Kindness  fadeth  away,  but  vengeance  endm-eth. 

Lightning  destroyeth  temples,  though  their  spires  pierce  the  clouds  ; 
Storms  destroy  armadas,  though  their  sails  intercept  the  gale. 
He  that  is  in  his  glory  falleth,  and  that  by  a  contemptible  enemy. 
Kindness  fadeth  away,  but  vengeance  endureth. 

More  of  the  same  wild  images  were  thrown  out,  each 
bearing  some  analogy,  however  fanciful  and  remote,  to  the 
theme  which  occurred  like  a  chorus  at  the  close  of  each 
stanza ;  so  that  the  poetry  resembled  a  j^iece  of  music, 
which,  after  repeated  excursions  through  fanciful  variations, 
returns  ever  and  unon  to  the  simple  melody  which  is  the  sub- 
ject of  ornament. 

As  the  minstrel  sung,  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  bridge 
and  its  vicinity  ;  but  when,  near  the  close  of  his  chant,  he 
raised  up  his  eyes  towards  the  distant  towers  of  the  Garde 
Doloureuse,  he  saw  that  the  gates  were  opened,  and  that 
there  was  a  mustering  of  guards  and  attendants  without  the 
barriers,  as  if  some  expedition  were  about  to  set  forth,  or 
some  person  of  imjoortance  to  appear  on  the  scene.  At  the 
same  time,  glancing  his  eyes  around,  he  discovered  that  the 
landscape,  so  solitary  when  he  first  took  his  seat  on  the  gray 
stone  from  which  he  overlooked  it,  was  now  becoming  filled 
with  figures. 

During  his  reverie,  several  persons,  solitary  and  in  groups, 
men,  women,  and  children,  had  begun  to  assemble  them- 
selves on  both  sides  of  the  river,  and  were  loitering  there,  as 
if  expecting  some  spectacle.  There  was  also  much  bustling 
at  the  Flemings' mills,  which,  though  at  some  distance,  were 
also  completely  under  his  eye.  A  procession  seemed  to  be 
arranging  itself  there,  which  soon  began  to  move  forward, 
with  pipe  and  tabor,  and  various  other  instruments  of 
music,  and  soon  approached,  in  regular  order,  the  place 
where  Vidal  was  seated. 

It  appeared  the  business  in  hand  was  of  a  pacific  character ; 
for  the  graybearded  old  men  of  the  little  settlement,  in  their 
decent  russet  gowns,  came  first  after  the  rustic  band  of 
music,  walking  in  ranks  of  three  and  three,  supported  by 
their  staves,  and  regulating  the  motion  of  the  whole  proces- 
sion by  their  sober  and  staid  pace.  After  these  fathers  of 
the  settlement  came  Wilkin  Flammock,  mounted  on  his 
mighty  war-horse,  and  in  complete  armor,  save  his  head,  like 
a  vassal  prepared  to  do  military  service  for  his  lord.     After 


THE  BETROTHED  287 

him  followed,  and  in  battle  rank,  the  flower  of  the  little 
colony,  consisting  of  thirty  men  well  armed  and  appointed, 
wliose  steady  march,  as  well  as  their  clean  and  glittering 
armor,  showed  steadiness  and  discipline,  although  they  lacked 
alike  the  fiery  glance  of  the  French  soldiery,  or  the  look  of 
dogged  defiance  which  characterized  the  English,  or  the 
wild  ecstatic  impetuosity  of  eye  which  then  distinguished  the 
Welsh.  The  mothers  and  the  maidens  of  the  colony  came 
next ;  then  followed  the  children,  with  faces  as  chubby,  and 
features  as  serious,  and  steps  as  grave,  as  their  parents  ;  and 
last,  as  a  rearguard,  came  the  youths  from  fourteen  to  twenty, 
armed  with  light  lances,  bows,  and  similar  weapons  becoming 
their  age. 

This  procession  wheeled  around  the  base  of  the  mound  or 
embankment  on  which  the  minstrel  was  seated,  crossed  the 
bridge  with  the  same  slow  and  regular  pace,  and  formed 
themselves  into  a  double  line,  facing  inwards,  as  if  to  receive 
some  person  of  consequence,  or  witness  some  ceremonial. 
Flammock  remained  at  the  extremity  of  the  avenue  thus 
formed  by  his  countrymen,  and  quietly,  yet  earnestly,  en- 
gaged in  making  arrangements  and  preparations. 

In  the  meanwhile,  stragglers  of  different  countries  began  to 
draw  together,  apparently  brought  there  by  mere  curiosity, 
and  formed  a  motley  assemblage  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
bridge,  which  was  that  nearest  to  the  castle.  Two  English 
peasants  passed  very  near  the  stone  on  which  Vidal  sat. 
"Wilt  thou  sing  us  a  song,  minstrel,"  said  one  of  them,  ''and 
here  is  a  tester  for  thee  ?  "  throwing  into  his  hat  a  small 
silver  coin. 

"  I  am  under  a  vow,"  answered  the  minstrel,  ''and  maj 
not  practise  the  gay  science  at  present." 

"Or  yon  are  too  proud  to  play  to  English  churls,"  said  the 
elder  peasant,  "  for  thy  tongue  smacks  of  the  Norman." 

"Keep  the  coin,  nevertheless,"  said  the  younger  man. 
"Let  the  palmer  have  what  the  minstrel  refuses  to  earn." 

"  I  pray  you  reserve  your  bounty,  kind  friend,"  said  Vidal, 
"I  need  it  not  ;  and  tell  me  of  your  kindness,  instead,  what 
matters  are  going  forward  here." 

"  W^hy,  know  you  not  that  we  have  got  our  Constable  De 
Lacy  again,  and  that  he  is  to  grant  solemn  investiture  to  the 
Flemish  weavers  of  all  these  fine  things  Harry  of  Aujou  has 
given  ?  Had  Edward  the  Confessor  been  alive,  to  give  the 
Netherland  knaves  their  guerdon,  it  would  have  been  a  cast 
of  the  gallows-tree.  But  come,  neighbor,  we  shall  lose  the 
show." 


28i  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

So  saying,  they  pressed  down  the  hill. 

Vidal  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  gates  of  the  distant  castle  ;  and 
the  remote  waving  of  banners,  and  mustering  of  men  on 
horseback,  though  imperfectly  seen  at  such  a  distance,  ap- 
prised him  that  one  of  note  was  about  to  set  forth  at  the 
head  of  a  considerable  train  of  military  attendants.  Dis- 
tant flourishes  of  trumpets,  which  came  faintly  yet  distinctly 
on  his  ear,  seemed  to  attest  the  same.  Presently  lie  perceived, 
by  the  dust  which  began  to  arise  in  columns  betwixt  the 
castle  and  the  bridge,  as  well  as  by  the  nearer  sound  of  the 
clarions,  that  the  troop  was  advancing  towards  him  in  pro- 
cession. 

Vidal,  on  his  own  part,  seemed  as  if  irresolute  whether  to 
retain  his  present  position,  where  he  commanded  a  full  but 
remote  view  of  the  whole  scene,  or  to  obtain  a  nearer  but 
more  partial  one  by  involving  himself  in  the  crowd  which 
now  closed  around  on  either  liand  of  the  bridge,  unless  where 
the  avenue  was  kept  open  by  the  armed  and  arrayed  Flem- 

A  monk  next  hurried  past  Vidal,  and  on  his  inquiring  as 
formerly  the  cause  of  the  assembly,  answered,  in  a  muttering 
tone,  from  beneath  his  hood,  that  it  was  the  Constable  De 
Lacy,  who,  as  the  first  act  of  his  authority,  was  then  and 
there  to  deliver  to  the  Flemings  a  royal  charter  of  their  im- 
munities. 

"lie  is  in  haste  to  exercise  his  authority,  methinks,"  said 
the  minstrel. 

"  He  that  has  just  gotten  a  sword  is  impatient  to  draw  it," 
replied  the  monk,  wlio  added  more  which  the  minstrel  un- 
derstood imperfectly  ;  for  Father  Aldrovand  had  not  recov- 
ered the  injury  which  he  had  received  during  the  siege. 

Vidal,  however,  understood  him  to  say,  that  he  was  to 
meet  the  Constable  there,  to  beg  his  favorable  intercession. 

"  I  also  will  meet  him,"  said  Eenault  Vidal,  rising  sud- 
denly from  the  stone  which  he  occupied. 

"Follow  me  then,"  mumbled  the  priest ;  ''the  Flemings 
know  me,  and  will  let  me  forward." 

But  Father  Aldrovand  being  in  disgrace,  his  influence  was 
not  so  potent  as  he  had  flattered  himself  ;  and  both  he  and 
the  minstrel  were  jostled  to  and  fro  in  the  crowd,  and  sepa- 
rated from  each  other. 

Vidal,  however,  was  recognized  by  the  English  peasants 
who  had  before  spoke  to  him.  "  Canst  thou  do  any  jug- 
glers' feats,  minstrel  ?  "  said  one.  "  Thou  mayst  earn  a 
fair  largesse,  for  our  Norman  masters  low QJonglerie." 


THE  BETROTHED  289 

"  I  know  but  one,"  said  Vidal,  "  and  I  will  show  it,  if 
you  will  yield  me  some  room/' 

They  crowded  a  little  off  from  him,  and  gave  him  time  to 
throw  aside  his  bonnet,  bare  his  legs  and  knees,  by  stripping 
off  the  leathern  buskins  which  swathed  them,  and  retain- 
ing only  his  sandals.  He  then  tied  a  parti-colored  hand- 
kerchief around  his  swarthy  and  sunburnt  hair,  and,  casting 
off  his  upper  doublet,  showed  his  brawny  and  nervous  arms, 
naked  to  the  shoulder. 

But  while  he  amused  those  immediately  about  him  with 
these  preparations,  a  commotion  and  rush  among  the  crowd, 
together  with  the  close  sound  of  trumpets,  answered  by  all 
the  Flemish  instruments  of  music,  as  well  as  the  sliouts  in 
Norman  and  English  of  "  Long  live  the  gallant  Constable  ! 
Our  Lady  for  the  bold  De  Lacy  !  "  announced  that  the  Con- 
stable was  close  at  hand. 

Vidal  made  incredible  exertions  to  approach  the  leader  of 
the  procession,  whose  morion,  distinguished  by  its  lofty 
plumes,  and  right  hand  holding  his  truncheon  or  leading- 
staff,  was  all  he  could  see,  on  account  of  the  crowd  of  officers 
and  armed  men  around  him.  At  length  his  exertions  pre- 
vailed, and  he  came  within  three  yards  of  the  Constable, 
who  was  then  in  a  small  circle  which  had  been  with  difficulty 
kept  clear  for  the  purpose  of  the  ceremonial  of  the  day. 
His  back  was  towards  the  minstrel,  and  he  was  in  the  act  of 
bending  from  his  horse  to  deliver  the  royal  charter  to  Wilkin 
Flammock,  who  had  knelt  on  one  knee  to  receive  it  the  more 
reverentially.  His  discharge  of  this  duty  occasioned  the 
Constable  to  stoop  so  low  that  his  plume  seemed  in  the  act 
of  mixing  with  the  flowing  raane  of  his  noble  charger. 

At  this  moment,  Vidal  threw  himself  with  singular  agility 
over  the  heads  of  the  Flemings  who  guarded  the  circle  ; 
and,  ere  an  eye  could  twinkle,  his  right  knee  was  on  the 
croupe  of  the  Constable's  horse,  the  grasp  of  his  left  hand 
on  the  collar  of  De  Lacy's  buff-coat ;  then,  clinging  to  his 
prey  like  a  tiger  after  its  leap^  he  drew,  in  the  same  instant 
of  time,  a  short,  sharp  dagger,  and  buried  it  in  the  back  of  the 
neck,  just  where  the  spine,  which  was  severed  by  the  stroke, 
serves  to  convey  to  the  trunk  of  the  human  body  the  mys- 
terious influences  of  the  brain.  The  blow  was  struck  with 
the  utmost  accuracy  of  aim  and  strength  of  arm.  The  un- 
happy horseman  dropped  from  his  saddle  without  groan  or 
struggle,  like  a  bull  in  the  amphitheater,  under  the  steel  of 
the  tauridor  ;  and  in  the  same  saddle  sat  his  murderer,  brand- 
ishing the  bloody  poni  ard^  an4  UJging  the  horse  to  speed. 


290  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

There  was  indeed  a  possibility  of  his  having  achieved  hia 
escape,  so  much  were  those  around  paralyzed  for  the  mo- 
ment by  the  suddenness  and  audacity  of  the  enterprise ; 
but  Flammock's  presence  of  mind  did  not  forsake  him  : 
he  seized  the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and,  aided  by  those 
who  wanted  but  an  example,  made  the  rider  prisoner,  bound 
his  arms,  and  called  aloud  that  he  must  be  carried  before 
King  Henry.  This  proposal,  uttered  in  Flammock's  strong 
and  decided  tone  of  voice,  silenced  a  thousand  wild  cries  of 
murder  and  treason,  which  had  arisen  while  the  different 
and  hostile  natives,  of  which  the  crowd  was  composed,  threw 
upon  each  other  reciprocally  the  charge  of  treachery. 

All  the  streams,  however,  now  assembled  in  one  channel, 
and  poured  with  unanimous  assent  towards  the  Garde  Do- 
loureuse,  excepting  a  few  of  the  murdered  nobleman's  train, 
who  remained  to  transport  their  master's  body,  in  decent 
solemnity  of  mourning,  from  the  spot  which  he  had  sought 
with  so  much  pomp  and  triumph. 

When  Flammock  reached  the  Garde  Doloureuse,  he  was 
readily  admitted  with  his  prisoner,  and  with  such  witnesses 
as  he  had  selected  to  prove  the  execution  of  the  crime.  To 
his  request  of  an  audience,  he  was  answered  that  the  King 
had  commanded  that  none  should  be  admitted  to  him  for 
some  time  ;  yet  so  singular  were  the  tidings  of  the  Con- 
stable's slaughter,  that  the  captain  of  the  guard  ventured  to 
interrupt  Henry^s  privacy,  in  order  to  communicate  that 
event,  and  returned  with  orders  that  Flammock  and  his 
prisoner  should  be  instantly  admitted  to  the  royal  apart- 
ment. Here  they  found  Henry,  attended  by  several  persons, 
who  stood  respectfully  behind  the  royal  seat  in  a  darkened 
part  of  the  room. 

When  Flammock  entered,  his  large  bulk  and  massive 
limbs  were  strangely  contrasted  with  cheeks  pale  with  horror 
at  what  he  just  witnessed,  and  with  awe  at  finding  himself 
in  the  royal  presence-chamber.  Beside  him  stood  his 
prisoner,  undaunted  by  the  situation  in  which  he  was 
placed.  The  blood  of  his  victim,  which  had  spirted  from 
the  wound,  was  visible  on  his  bare  limbs  and  his  scanty 
garments  ;  but  particularly  upon  his  brow  and  the  hand- 
kerchief with  which  it  was  bound. 

Henry  gazed  on  him  with  a  stern  look,  which  the  other 
not  only  endured  without  dismay,  but  seemed  to  return  with 
a  frown  of  defiance. 

"Does  no  one  know  this  caitiff  ?"  said  Henry,  looking 
around  him. 


THE  BETE  0  THED  201 

There  was  no  immediate  answer,  until  Philip  Guariiie, 
stepping  from  the  group  which  stood  behind  the  royal  chair, 
said,  though  with  hesitation,  "  So  please  you,  my  liege,  but 
for  the  strange  guise  in  which  he  is  now  arrayed,  I  should 
say  there  was  a  household  minstrel  of  my  master,  by  name 
Renault  Vidal." 

"  Thou  art  deceived,  Norman,"  replied  the  minstrel ; 
''my  menial  place  and  base  lineage  were  but  assumed.  I  am 
Cadwallon  the  Briton — Cadwallon  of  the  Nine  Lays — Cad- 
wallou,  the  chief  bard  of  Gwenwyu  of  Powys  Land — and  his 
avenger ! " 

As  he  uttered  the  last  word,  his  looks  encountered  those 
of  a  palmer,  who  had  gradually  advanced  from  the  recess  in 
which  the  attendants  were  stationed,  and  now  confronted 
him. 

The  Welshman's  eyes  looked  so  eagerly  ghastly  as  if  flying 
from  their  sockets,  while  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  surprise, 
mingled  with  horror,  "  Do  the  dead  come  before  monarchs  ? 
Or,  if  thou  art  alive,  wJtom  have  I  slain  ?  I  dreamed  not, 
surely,  of  that  bound,  and  of  that  home  blow,  yet  my  victim 
stands  before  me  !  Have  I  not  slain  the  Constable  of 
Chester?" 

"  Thou  hast  indeed  slain  the  Constable,"  answered  the 
King  ;  *'  but  know,  Welshman,  it  was  Eandal  de  Lacy,  on 
whom  that  charge  was  this  morning  conferred,  by  our  belief 
of  our  loyal  and  faithful  Hugo  de  Lacy's  having  been  lost 
upon  his  return  from  the  Holy  Land,  as  the  vessel  in  which 
he  had  taken  passage  was  reported  to  have  suffered  ship- 
wreck. Thou  hast  cut  short  Randal's  brief  elevation  but  by 
a  few  hours  ;  for  to-morrow's  sun  would  have  again  seen  him 
without  land  or  lordship." 

The  prisoner  dropped  his  head  on  his  bosom  in  evident 
despair.  "I  thought,"  he  murmured,  "that  he  had 
changed  his  slough  and  come  forth  so  glorious  all  too  soon. 
May  the  eyes  drop  out  that  were  cheated  with  those  baubles, 
a  plumed  cap  and  a  lacquered  baton  !  " 

"  I  will  take  care,  Welshman,  thine  eyes  cheat  thee  not 
again,"  said  the  King,  sternly  ;  "  before  the  night  is  an  hour 
older,  they  shall  be  closed  on  all  that  is  earthly." 

*'  May  I  request  of  your  nobleness,"  said  the  Constable,  ■ 
"  that  you  will  permit  me  to  ask  the  unhappy  man  a  few 
questions  ?  " 

**  When  I  have  demanded  of  him  myself,*'  said  the  King, 
"why  he  has  dipped  his  hands  in  the  blood  of  a  noble  Nor- 


292  WAVTJTi'LET  JiOrSLS 

"  Because  he  at  whom  I  aimed  my  blow/*  said  the  Briton, 
his  eye  ghmcing  fiercely  from  the  King  to  De  Lacy,  and 
back,  "  had  spilled  the  blood  of  the  descendant  of  a  thousand 
kings  ;  to  which  his  own  gore,  or  thine,  proud  Count  of 
Anjou,  is  but  as  the  puddle  of  the  highway  to  the  silver 
fountain," 

Henry's  eye  menaced  the  audacious  Speaker  ;  but  the  King 
reined  in  his  wrath  when  he  beheld  the  imploring  look  of  his 
servant.  "  What  wouldst  thou  ask  of  him  ?"  he  said,  "  be 
brief,  for  his  time  is  short." 

"So  please  you,  my  liege,  I  would  but  demand  wherefore 
he  has  for  years  forborne  to  take  the  life  he  aimed  at,  when 
it  was  in  his  power — nay,  when  it  must  have  been  lost  but 
for  his  seemingly  faithful  service  ?  " 

"Norman,"  said  Cadwallon,  "  I  will  answer  thee.  When 
I  first  took  upon  me  thy  service,  it  was  well  my  purpose  to 
have  slain  thee  that  night.  There  stands  the  man,"  point- 
ing to  Philip  Guarine,  "  to  whose  vigilance  thou  owed'stthy 
safety." 

"  Indeed,"  said  De  Lacy,  "  I  do  remember  some  indica- 
tions of  such  a  purpose  ;  but  why  didst  thou  forego  it,  when 
following  opportunities  put  it  in  thy  power  ?  " 

''  When  the  slayer  of  my  sovereign  became  God's  soldier," 
answered  Cadwallon,  "and  served  his  cause  in  Palestine,  he 
was  safe  from  my  earthly  vengeance." 

"  A  wonderful  forbearance  on  the  part  of  a  Welsh  assas- 
sin !  "  said  the  King,  scornfully. 

"Ay,"  answered  Cadwallon  :  "and  which  certain  Chris- 
tian princes  have  scarce  attained  to,  who  have  never  neg- 
lected the  chance  of  pillage  or  conquest  afforded  by  the 
absence  of  a  rival  in  the  Holy  Crusade." 

"Now,  by  the  Holy  Rood "  said  Henry,  on  the  point 

of  bursting  out,  for  the  insult  affected  him  peculiarly,  but, 
suddenly  stopping,  he  said,  with  an  air  of  contempt,  "  To 
the  gallows  with  the  knave  !" 

"  But  one  other  question,"  said  De  Lacy,  *'  Renault,  or  by 
whatever  name  thou  art  called.  Ever  since  my  return  thou 
hast  rendered  me  service  inconsistent  with  thy  stern  resolu- 
tion upon  my  life  :  thou  didst  aid  me  in  my  shipwreck,  and 
didst  guide  me  safely  through  Wales,  where  my  name  would 
have  ensured  my  death  ;  and  all  this  after  the  crusade  was 
accomxplished  ?" 

"I  could  explain  thy  doubt,"  said  the  bard,  "  but  that  it 
might  be  thought  I  was  pleading  for  my  life." 

"Hesitate  not  for  that,"  said   the  King;    "for,  were 


THE  BETROTHED  288 

our  Holy  Father  to  intercede  for  thee,  his  prayers  were  in 
vain/' 

*MVell,  then,"  said  the  bard,  ''know  the  truth:  I  was 
too  proud  to  permit  either  wave  or  AVelshman  to  share  in  my 
revenge.  Know  also — what  is  perhaps  Cadwallon's  weak- 
ness— use  and  habit  had  divided  my  feelings  towards  De 
Lacy  between  aversion  and  admiration.  I  still  contemplated 
my  revenge,  but  as  something  which  I  might  never  complete, 
and  which  seemed  rather  an  image  in  the  clouds  than  an 
object  to  which  I  must  one  day  draw  near.  And  when  I 
beheld  thee,"  he  said,  turning  to  De  Lacy,  "  this  very  day 
so  determined,  so  sternly  resolved,  to  bear  thy  impending 
fate  like  a  man — that  you  seemed  to  me  to  resemble  the  last 
tower  of  a  ruined  palace,  still  holding  its  head  to  heaven, 
when  its  walls  of  splendor,  and  its  bowers  of  delight,  lay  in 
desolation  around — "  May  I  perish,"  I  said  to  myself  in 
secret,  "ere  I  perfect  its  ruin!"  Yes,  De  Lacy,  then — 
even  then,  but  some  hours  since,  hadst  thou  accepted  my 
proffered  hand,  I  had  served  thee  as  never  follower  served 
master.  You  rejected  it  with  scorn  ;  and  yet,  notwithstand- 
ing that  insult,  it  required  that  I  should  have  seen  you,  as  I 
thought,  trampling  over  the  field  in  which  you  slew  my 
master,  in  the  full  pride  of  Norman  insolence,  to  animate 
my  resolution  to  strike  the  blow  which,  meant  for  you,  has 
slain  at  least  one  of  your  usurping  race.  I  will  answer  no 
more  questions.  Lead  on  to  ax  or  gallows — it  is  indifferent 
to  Cadwallon  ;  my  soul  will  soon  be  with  my  free  and  noble 
ancestry,  and  with  my  beloved  and  royal  patron." 

"  My  liege  and  prince,"  said  De  Lacy,  bending  his  knee 
to  Henry,  "  can  you  hear  this,  and  refuse  your  ancient 
servant  one  request  ?  Spare  this  man.  Extinguish  not  such 
a  light,  because  it  is  devious  and  wild." 

"  Kise — rise,  De  Lacy,  and  shame  thee  of  thy  petition," 
said  the  King.  "  Thy  kinsman's  blood — the  blood  of  a 
noble  Norman — is  on  the  Welshman's  hands  and  brow.  As 
I  am  crowned  king,  he  shall  die  ere  it  is  wiped  off.  Here  ! 
have  him  to  present  execution  I  " 

Cadwallon  was  instantly  withdrawn  under  a  guard.  The 
Constable  seemed,  by  action  rather  than  words,  to  continue 
his  intercession. 

"  Thou  art  mad,  De  Lacy — thou  art  mad,  mine  old  and 
true  friend,  to  urge  me  thus,"  said  the  King,  compelling  De 
Lacy  to  rise,  "  Seest  thou  not  that  my  care  in  this  matter 
is  for  thee  ?  This  Randal,  l>y  largesses  and  promises,  hath 
made  many  friends,  who  will  not,  perhaps,  easily  again  be 


294  WA  VERLET  NO  VEL8 

brought  to  your  allegiance,  returning,  as  thou  dost,  dimin- 
ished in  power  and  wealth.  Had  he  lived,  we  might  have 
had  hard  work  to  deprive  him  entirely  of  the  power  which 
he  had  acquired.  We  thank  the  Welsh  assassin  who  hath  rid 
us  of  him  ;  but  his  adherents  would  cry  foul  play  were  the 
murderer  spared.  When  blood  is  paid  for  blood,  all  will  be 
forgotten,  and  their  loyalty  will  once  more  flow  in  its  proper 
channel  to  thee,  their  lawful  lord," 

Hugo  de  Lacy  arose  from  his  knees,  and  endeavored 
respectfully  to  combat  the  politic  reasons  of  his  wily  sov- 
ereign, which  he  plainly  saw  were  resorted  to  less  for  his  sake 
than  with  the  prudent  purjoose  of  effecting  the  change  of 
feudal  authority  with  the  least  possible  trouble  to  the  country 
or  sovereign. 

Henry  listened  to  De  Lacy's  arguments  patiently,  and 
combated  them  with  temper,  until  the  death-drum  began  to 
beat  and  the  castle  bell  to  toll.  He  then  led  De  Lacy  to  the 
window,  on  which,  for  it  was  now  dark,  a  strong  ruddy  light 
began  to  gleam  from  without.  A  body  of  men-at-arms,  each 
holding  in  his  hand  a  blazing  torch,  were  returning  along 
the  terrace  from  the  execution  of  the  wild  but  high-souled 
Briton,  with  cries  of  "  Long  live  King  Henry  !  and  go 
perish  all  enemies  of  the  gentle  Norman  men  1 " 


CONCLUSION 

A  sun  hath  set — a  star  hath  risen, 

O,  Geraldine  !  since  arms  of  thine 
Have  been  the  lovely  lady's  prison. 

Coleridge. 

Popular  fame  had  erred  in  assigning  to  Eveline  Berenger, 
after  the  capture  of  her  castle,  any  confinement  more  severe 
than  that  of  her  aunt  the  lady  abhessof  the  Cistercians'  con- 
vent  aiforded.  Yet  that  was  severe  enough  ;  for  maiden 
aunts,  whether  abbesses  or  no,  are  not  tolerant  of  the  species 
of  errors  of  which  Eveline  was  accused  ;  and  the  innocent 
damosel  was  brought  in  many  ways  to  eat  her  bread  in  shame 
of  countenance  and  bitterness  of  heart.  Every  day  of  her 
confinement  was  rendered  less  and  less  endurable  by  taunts, 
in  the  various  forms  of  sympathy,  consolation,  and  exhor- 
tation ;  but  which,  stripped  of  their  assumed  forms,  were 
undisguised  anger  and  insult.  Tlie  company  of  Rose  was 
all  which  Eveline  had  to  sustain  lier  under  these  inflictions, 
and  that  was  at  length  withdrawn  on  the  very  morning  when 
so  many  important  events  took  place  at  the  Garde  Dolour- 
euse. 

The  unfortunate  young  lady  inquired  in  vain  of  a  grim- 
faced  nun,  who  appeared  in  Rose's  place  to  assist  her  to 
dress,  why  her  companion  and  friend  was  debarred  attend- 
ance. The  nun  observed  on  that  score  an  obstinate  silence, 
but  threw  out  many  hints  on  the  importance  attached  to  the 
vain  ornaments  of  a  frail  child  of  clay,  and  on  the  hardship 
that  even  a  spouse  of  Heaven  was  compelled  to  divert  her 
thoughts  from  her  higher  duties,  and  condescend  to  fasten 
clasps  and  adjust  veils. 

The  lady  abbess,  however,  told  her  niece  after  matins, 
that  her  attendant  had  not  been  withdrawn  from  her  for  a 
space  only,  but  was  likely  to  be  shut  up  in  a  house  of  the 
severest  profession,  for  having  afforded  her  mistress  assist- 
ance in  receiving  Damian  de  Lacy  into  her  sleeping  apart- 
ment at  the  castle  of  Baldringham. 

A  soldier  of  De  Lacy's  band,  wlio  had  hitherto  kept  what 
he  had  observed  a  secret,  being  off  his  post  that  night,  had 
now  in  Damian's  disgrace  found  he  might  benefit  himself  by 
295 


296  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

telling  the  story.  This  new  blow,  so  unexpected,  so  afflic- 
tive— this  new  charge,  which  it  was  so  difficult  to  explain,  and 
so  impossible  utterly  to  deny,  seemed  to  Eveline  to  seal  Da- 
mian's  fate  and  her  own  ;  while  the  thought  that  she  had 
involved  in  ruin  her  single-hearted  and  high-souled  attend- 
ant was  all  that  had  been  wanting  to  produce  a  state  which 
approached  to  the  apathy  of  despair,  "  Think  of  me  what 
you  will,"  she  said  to  her  aunt,  "  I  will  no  longer  defend 
myself  ;  say  what  you  will,  I  will  no  longer  reply  ;  carry  me 
where  you  will,  I  will  no  longer  resist.  God  will,  in  His 
good  time,  clear  my  fame — may  He  forgive  my  persecutors  !  " 

After  this,  and  during  several  hours  of  that  unhappy  day, 
the  Lady  Eveline,  pale,  cold,  silent,  glided  from  chapel  to 
refectory,  from  refectory  to  chapel  again,  at  the  slightest 
beck  of  the  abbess  or  her  official  sisters,  and  seemed  to 
regard  the  various  privations,  penances,  admonitions,  and 
reproaches,  of  which  she,  in  the  course  of  that  day,  was 
subjected  to  an  extraordinary  share,  no  more  than  a  marble 
statue  minds  the  inclemency  of  the  external  air,  or  the  rain- 
drops which  fall  upon  it,  though  they  must  in  time  waste 
and  consume  it. 

The  abbess,  who  loved  her  niece,  although  her  affection 
showed  itself  often  in  a  vexatious  manner,  became  at  length 
alarmed,  countermanded  her  orders  for  removing  Eveline  to 
an  inferior  cell,  attended  herself  to  see  her  laid  in  bed  (in 
which,  as  in  everything  else,  the  young  lady  seemed  entirely 
passive),  and,  with  something  like  reviving  tenderness,  kissed 
and  blessed  her  on  leaving  the  apartment.  Slight  as  the  mark 
of  kindness  was,  it  was  unexpected,  and,  like  the  rod  of 
Moses,  opened  the  hidden  fountains  of  waters.  Eveline 
wept,  a  resource  which  had  been  that  day  denied  to  her ; 
she  prayed  ;  and,  finally,  sobbed  herself  to  sleep,  like  an  in- 
fant, with  a  mind  somewhat  tranquilized  by  having  given 
way  to  this  tide  of  natural  emotion. 

She  awoke  more  than  once  in  the  night  to  recall  mingled 
and  gloomy  dreams  of  cells  and  of  castles,  of  funerals  and  of 
bridals,  of  coronets  and  of  racks  and  gibbets  ;  but  towards 
morning  she  fell  into  sleep  more  sound  than  she  had  hitherto 
enjoyed,  and  her  visions  partook  of  its  soothing  character. 
The  Lady  of  the  Garde  Doloureuse  seemed  to  smile  on  her 
amid  her  dreams,  and  to  promise  her  votaress  protection. 
The  shade  of  her  father  was  there  also  ;  and,  with  the  bold- 
ness of  a  dreamer,  she  saw  the  j^aternal  resemblance  with 
awe,  but  without  fear.  His  lips  moved,  and  she  heard  words  ; 
their  import  she  did  not  fully  comprehend,  save  that  they 


THE  BETROTHED  297 

spoke  of  hope,  consolation,  and  approaching  happiness. 
There  also  glided  in,  with  bright  blue  eyes  fixed  upon  hers, 
dressed  in  a  tunic  of  saffron-colored  silk,  with  a  mantle  of 
cerulean  blue  of  antique  fashion,  the  form  of  a  female,  re- 
splendent in  that  delicate  species  of  beauty  -^hich  attends 
the  fairest  complexion.  It  was,  she  thought,  the  Britoness 
Vanda  ;  but  her  countenance  was  no  longer  resentful  ;  her 
long  yellow  hair  flew  not  loose  on  her  shoulders,  but  was 
mysteriously  braided  with  oak  and  mistletoe  ;  above  all,  her 
ri^ht  hand  was  gracefully  disposed  of  under  her  mantle,  and 
it  was  an  unmutilated,  unspotted,  and  beautifully  formed 
hand  which  crossed  the  brow  of  Eveline.  Yet,  under  these 
assurances  of  favor,  a  thrill  of  fear  passed  over  her  as  the 
vision  seemed  to  repeat  or  chant, 

"  Widow'd  wife  and  wedded  maid. 
Betrothed,  betrayer,  and  betray'd. 
All  is  done  that  has  been  said  I 
Vanda's  wrong  has  been  y  wroken ; 
Take  her  pardon  by  this  token." 

She  bent  down  as  if  to  kiss  Eveline,  who  started  at  that 
instant,  and  then  awoke.  Her  hand  was  indeed  gently  pressed 
by  one  as  pure  and  white  as  her  own.  The  blue  eyes  and 
fair  hair  of  a  lovely  female  face,  with  half-veiled  bosom  and 
disheveled  locks,  flitted  through  her  vision,  and  indeed  its 
lips  approached  to  those  of  the  lovely  sleeper  at  the  moment 
of  her  awakening  ;  but  it  was  Eose  in  whose  arms  her  mis- 
tress found  herself  pressed,  and  who  moistened  her  face  with 
tears,  as  in  a  passion  of  affection  she  covered  it  with  kisses." 

"  What  means  this,  Rose  ?"  said  Eveline  ;  "  thank  God, 
you  are  restored  to  me  !  But  what  mean  these  bursts  of 
weeping  ?  *' 

"  Let  me  weep-^let  me  weep,"  said  Rose  ;  "  it  is  long  since 
I  have  wept  for  joy,  and  long,  I  trust,  it  will  be  ere  I  again 
weep  for  sorrow.  News  are  come  on  the  spur  from_  the 
Garde  Doloureuse.  Amelot  has  brought  them  ;  he  is  at 
liberty,  so  is  his  master,  and  in  high  favor  with  Henry. 
Here  yet  more,  but  let  me  not  tell  it  too  hastily.  You  grow 
pale." 

"  -^0 — no,"  said  Eveline  ;  "  go  on — go  on,  I  think  I  under- 
stand you — I  think  I  do." 

"  The  villain  Randal  de  Lacy,  the  master-mover  of  all  our 
sorrows,  will  plague  you  no  more  :  he  was  slain  by  an  honest 
Welshman,  and  grieved  am  I  that  they  have  hanged  the  poor 
man  for  his  good  service.     Above  all,  the  stout  old  Constable 


298  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

is  liimself  returned  from  Palestiue,  as  worthy,  and  somewhat 
wiser,  than  he  was  ;  for  It  is  thought  he  will  renounce  his 
contract  with  your  ladyship." 

"Silly  girl,"  said  Eveline,  crimsoning  as  high  as  she  had      i 
been  before  pale,  "jest  not  amidst  such  a  tale.     But  can 
this  be  reality  ?    Is  Randal  indeed  slain,  and  the  Constable 
returned  ?" 

These  were  hasty  and  hurried  questions,  answered  as 
hastily  and  confusedly,  and  broken  with  ejaculations  of  i 
surprise,  and  thanks  to  Heaven  and  to  Our  Lady,  until  e 
the  ecstasy  of  delight  sobered  down  into  a  sort  of  tranquil  a 
wonder.  ti 

Meanwhile  Daraian  Lacy  also  had  his  explanations  to  i) 
receive,  and  the  mode  in  which  they  were  conveyed  had  w 
something  remarkable.  Damian  had  for  some  time  been  fc 
the  inhabitant  of  wliat  our  age  would  have  termed  a  dungeon,  oj 
but  which,  in  the  ancient  days,  they  called  a  prison.  We 
are  perhaps  censurable  in  making  the  dwelling  and  the  food 
of  acknowledged  and  convicted  guilt  more  comfortable  and 
palatable  than  what  the  parties  could  have  gained  by  any  ex- 
ertions when  at  large,  and  supporting  themselves  by  honest 
labor ;  but  this  is  a  venial  error  compared  to  that  of  our 
ancestors,  who,  considering  a  charge  and  a  conviction  as 
synonymous,  treated  the  accused  before  sentence  in  a  manner  j  b 
which  would  have  been  of  itself  a  severe  punishment  after 
he  was  found  guilty.  Damian,  therefore,  notwithstanding  his 
high  birth  and  distinguished  rank, was  confined  after  tlie  man- 
ner of  the  most  atrocious  criminal,  was  heavily  fettered,  fed  on 
the  coarsest  food,  and  experienced  only  this  alleviation,  that  he 
was  permitted  to  indulge  his  misery  in  a  solitary  and  separate 
cell,  the  wretched  furniture  of  which  was  a  mean  bedstead, 
and  a  broken  table  and  chair.  A  coffin — and  his  own  arms 
and  initials  were  painted  upon  it — stood  in  one  corner,  to 
remind  him  of  his  approaching  fate  ;  and  a  crucifix  was 
placed  in  another,  to  intimate  to  him  that  there  was  a  world 
beyond  that  which  must  soon  close  upon  him.  No  noise 
could  penetrate  into  the  iron  silence  of  his  prison — no  rumor, 
either  touching  his  own  fate  or  that  of  hisfriends.  Charged 
with  being  taken  in  open  arms  against  the  King,  he  was 
subject  to  military  law,  and  to  be  put  to  death  even  without 
the  formality  of  a  hearing  ;  and  he  foresaw  no  milder  conclu- 
sion to  his  imprisonment. 

This  melancholy  dwelling  had  been  the  abode  of  Damian 
for  nearly  a  month,  when,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  his  health, 


THE  BETROTHED  299 

which  had  suffered  much  from  his  wounds,  began  gradually 
to  improve,  either  benefited  by  the  abstemious  diet  to  which 
he  was  reduced,  or  that  certainty,  however  melancholy,  is  an 
evil  better  endured  by  many  constitutions  than  the  feverish 
contrast  betwixt  passion  and  duty.  But  the  term  of  his  im- 
prisonment seemed  drawing  speedily  to  a  close  :  his  jailor,  a 
sullen  Saxon,  of  the  lowest  order,  in  more  words  than  he  had 
yet  used  to  him,  warned  him  to  look  to  a  speedy  change  of 
dwelling,  and  the  tone  in  wliich  he  spoke  convinced  the  prison- 
er there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  He  demanded  a  confessor, 
and  the  Jailer,  though  he  withdrew  without  reply,  seemed 
to  intimate  by  his  manner  that  the  boon  would  be  g'-anted. 

Next  morning,  at  an  unusually  early  hour,  the  chains  and 
bolts  of  the  cell  were  heard  to  clash  and  groan,  and  Damian 
was  startled  from  a  broken  sleep,  which  he  had  not  enjoyed 
for  above  two  hours.  His  eyes  were  bent  on  the  slowly- 
opening  door,  as  if  he  had  expected  the  headsman  and  his 
assistants  ;  but  the  jailer  ushered  in  a  stout  man  in  a  pil- 
grim's habit. 

"  Is  it  a  priest  whom  yon  bring  me,  warden  ?"  said  the 
unhappy  prisoner. 

"He  can  best  answer  the  question  himself  ,**  said  the  surly 
oflRcial.  and  presently  withdrew. 

The  pilgrim  remained  standing  on  the  floor,  with  his  back 
to  the  small  window,  or  rather  loophole,  by  which  the  cell 
was  imperfectly  lighted,  and  gazed  intently  upon  Damian, 
who  was  seated  on  the  side  of  his  bed,  his  pale  cheek  and 
disheveled  hair  bearing  a  melancholy  correspondence  to  his 
heavy  irons.  He  returned  the  pilgrim's  gaze,  but  the  im- 
perfect light  only  showed  him  that  his  visitor  was  a  stout 
old  man,  who  wore  the  scallop-shell  on  his  bonnet,  as  a  token 
that  he  had  passed  the  sea,  and  carried  a  palm-branch  in  his 
hand,  to  show  he  had  visited  the  Holy  Land. 

*'  Benedicite,  reverend  father,"  said  the  unhappy  young 
Kian.  "  Are  you  a  priest  come  to  unburden  my  con- 
science ?  " 

"I  am  not  a  priest,"  replied  the  palmer,  *'but  one  who 
brings  you  news  of  discomfort." 

"  You  bring  them  to  one  to  whom  comfort  has  been  long 
a  stranger,  and  to  a  place  which  perchance  never  knew  it," 
replied  Damian. 

"  I  may  be  the  bolder  in  my  communication,"  said  the 
palmer:  "those  in  sorrow  will  better  hear  ill  news  than 
those  whom  they  surprise  in  the  possession  of  content  and 
happiness." 


300  WA  VERLE  Y  N  0  VEL8 

"  Yet  even  the  situation  of  the  wretched,"  said  Damian, 
"  can  be  rendered  more  wretched  by  suspense.  I  pray  you, 
reverend  sir,  to  speak  the  worst  at  once.  If  you  come  to 
announce  tlie  doom  of  this  ])oor  frame,  may  God  be  gracious 
to  the  spirit  which  must  be  violently  dismissed  from  it  I" 

"  I  have  no  such  charge,"  said  the  palmer.  "  I  come 
from  the  Holy  Land,  and  have  the  more  grief  in  finding  you 
thus,  because  my  message  to  you  was  one  addressed  to  a  free 
man,  and  a  wealthy  one." 

"  For  my  freedom,"  said  Damian,  "  let  these  fetters  speak, 
and  this  apartment  for  my  wealth.  But  speak  out  thy  news  ; 
should  my  uncle,  for  I  fear  thy  tale  regards  him,  want  either 
my  arm  or  my  fortune,  this  dungeon  and  my  degradation  have 
further  pangs  than  I  had  yet  supposed,  as  they  render  me 
unable  to  aid  him." 

"  Your  uncle,  young  man,"  said  the  palmer,  "is  prisoner 
— I  should  rather- say  skive — to  the  great  Soldan,  taken  in  a 
battle  in  which  he  did  his  duty,  though  unable  to  avert  the 
defeat  of  the  Christians,  with  which  it  was  concluded.  He 
was  made  prisoner  while  covering  the  retreat,  but  not  until 
he  had  slain  with  his  own  hand,  for  his  misfortune  as  it  has 
proved,   Hassan  Ali,   a  favorite  of  the  Soldan.     The  cruel 

Eagan  has  caused  the  worthy  knight  to  be  loaded  with  irons 
eavier  than  tliose  you  wear,  and  the  dungeon  to  which  he 
is  confined  would  make  this  seem  a  palace.  The  infidel's  first 
resolution  was  to  put  the  valiant  Constable  to  the  most  dread- 
ful death  which  his  tormentors  could  devise.  But  fame  told 
him  that  Hugo  de  Lacy  was  a  man  of  great  power  and  wealth, 
and  he  has  demanded  a  ransom  of  ten  thousand  bezants  of 
gold.  Your  uncle  replied  that  '•  The  payment  would  totally 
impoverish  him,  and  oblige  him  to  dispose  of  his  whole  es- 
tates  ;  even  then,"  he  pleaded,  "time  must  be  allowed  him  to 
convert  them  into  money."  The  Soldan  replied,  that  "  It 
imported  little  to  him  whether  a  hound  like  the  Constable 
were  fat  or  lean,  and  that  he  therefore  insisted  upon  the  full 
amount  of  the  ransom."  But  he  so  far  relaxed  as  to  make 
it  payable  in  three  portions,  on  condition  that,  along  with 
the  first  portion  of  the  price,  the  nearest  of  kin  and  heir  of 
De  Lacy  must  be  placed  in  his  hands  as  a  hostage  for  what 
remained  due.  On  these  conditions  he  consented  your  uncle 
should  be  put  at  liberty  so  soon  as  you  arrive  in  Palestine 
with  the  gold." 

"  Now  may  I  indeed  call  myself  unhappy,"  said  Damian, 
"  that  I  cannot  show  my  love  and  duty  to  my  noble  uncle, 
who  hath  ever  been  a  father  to  me  in  my  orphan  state." 


THE  BETROTHED  301 

''It  will  be  a  heavy  disappointment,  doubtless,  to  the 
Constable,"  said  the  palmer,  "because  he  was  eager  to  re- 
curn  to  this  happy  country  to  fulfil  a  contract  of  marriage 
which  he  had  formed  with  a  lady  of  great  beauty  and  for- 
tune." 

Damian  shrunk  together  in  such  sort  that  his  fetters 
clashed,  but  he  made  no  answer. 

"  Were  he  not  your  uncle,"  continued  the  pilgrim,  "  and 
well  known  as  a  wise  man,  I  should  think  he  is  not  quite 
prudent  in  this  matter.  Whatever  he  was  before  he  left 
England,  two  summers  spent  in  the  wars  of  Palestine,  and 
another  amid  the  tortures  and  restraints  of  a  heathen  prison, 
have  made  him  a  sorry  bridegoom." 

"  Peace,  pilgrim,"  said  De  Lacy,  with  a  commanding 
tone.  "It  is  not  thy  part  to  censure  such  a  noble  knight 
as  my  uncle,  nor  is  it  meet  that  I  should  listen  to  your 
strictures." 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  young  man,"  said  the  palmer.  "  I 
spoke  not  without  some  view  to  your  interest,  which,  me- 
thinks,  does  not  so  well  consort  with  thine  uncle  having  an 
heir  of  his  body." 

"  Peace,  base  men  ! "  said  Damian.  "  By  Heaven,  I  think 
worse  of  my  cell  then  I  did  before,  since  its  doors  opened  to 
such  a  counselor,  and  of  my  chains,  since  they  restrain  me 
from  chastizing  him.     Depart,  I  pray  thee," 

"  Not  till  I  have  your  answer  for  your  uncle,"  answered 
the  palmer.  "  My  age  scovns  the  anger  of  thy  youth,  as 
the  rock  despises  the  foam  of  the  rivulet  dashed  against 
it." 

"  Then,  say  to  my  uncle,"  answered  Damian,  "  I  am  a 
prisoner,  or  I  would  have  come  to  him  ;  I  am  a  confiscated 
beggar,  or  I  would  have  sent  him  my  all." 

"  Such  virtuous  purposes  are  easily  and  boldly  announced," 
said  the  palmer,  "  when  he  who  speaks  them  knows  that  he 
cannot  be  called  upon  to  make  good  the  boast  of  his  tongue. 
But  could  I  tell  thee  of  thy  restoration  to  freedom  and 
wealth,  I  trow  thou  wouldst  consider  twice  ere  thy  act  con- 
firmed the  sacrifice  thou  hast  in  thy  present  state  promised 
BO  glibly." 

"Leave  me,  I  prithee,  old  man,"  said  Damian;  "thy 
thought  cannot  comprehend  the  tenor  of  mine — go,  and  add 
not  to  my  distress  insults  which  I  have  not  the  means  to 
avenge." 

"  But  what  if  I  had  it  in  my  power  to  place  thee  in  the 
situation  of  a  free  and  wealthy  man,  would  it  please  thee 


302  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

then  to  be  reminded  of  thy  present  boast ;  for  if  not,  thou 
ma3'St  rely  on  my  discretion  never  to  mention  the  difference 
of  sentiment  between  Damian  bound  and  Damian  at 
liberty  ?  " 

"  How  meanest  thou  ?  or  hast  thou  any  meaning,  save  to 
torment  me  ?  "  said  the  youth. 

"  Not  so,"  seplied  the  old  j^almer,  plucking  from  his 
bosom  a  parchment  scroll  to  which  a  heavy  seal  was  at- 
tached. "  Know  that  thy  cousin  Randal  hath  been  strangely 
slain,  and  his  treacheries  towards  the  Constable  and  thee  as 
strangely  discovered.  The  King,  in  requital  of  thy  suffer- 
ings, hath  sent  thee  this  full  pardon,  and  endowed  thee  with 
a  third  part  of  those  ample  estates,  vv^hich,  by  his  death, 
revert  to  the  crown.'' 

"  And  hath  the  King  also  restored  my  freedom  and  my 
right  of  blood  ?  "  exclaimed  Damian. 

''From  this  moment,  forthwith,"  said  the  palmer;  'Mook 
upon  the  parchment — behold  the  royal  hand  and  seal." 

"  I  must  have  better  proof.  Here,"  he  exclaimed,  loudly 
clashing  his  irons  at  the  same  time — "here,  thou  Dogget — 
warder — son  of  a  Saxon  wolf-hound  !  " 

The  palmer,  striking  on  the  door,  seconded  the  previous 
exertions  for  summoning  the  jailer,  who  entered  accord- 
ingly. 

"  Warder,"  said  Damian  de  Lacy,  in  a  stern  tone,  "  am  I 
yet  thy  prisoner  or  no  ?  " 

The  sullen  jailer  consulted  the  palmer  by  a  look,  and  then 
answered  to  Damian  that  he  was  a  free  man. 

"  Then,  death  of  thy  heart,  slave,"  said  Damian,  im- 
patiently, "  why  hang  these  fetters  on  the  free  limbs  of  a 
Norman  noble  ?  Each  moment  they  confine  him  are  worth 
a  lifetime  of  bondage  to  such  a  serf  as  thou  !  " 

"  They  are  soon  rid  of.  Sir  Damian,"  said  the  man  ;  "  and 
I  pray  you  to  take  some  patience,  when  you  remember  that 
ten  minutes  since  you  had  little  right  to  think  these  brace- 
lets would  have  been  removed  for  any  other  purpose  than 
your  progress  to  the  scaffold." 

"  Peace,  ban-dog,"  said  Damian,  "and  be  speedy  !  And 
thou,  who  hast  brought  me  these  good  tidings,  I  forgive  thy 
former  bearing :  thou  thoughtest,  doubtless,  that  it  was 
prudent  to  extort  from  me  professions  during  my  bondage 
which  might  in  honor  decide  my  conduct  when  at  large. 
The  suspicion  inferred  in  it  somewhat  offensive,  but  thy 
motive  was  to  ensure  my  uncle's  liberty." 

"  And  is  it  really  your  purpose,"  said  the  palmer,  "■  to 


THE  BETROTHED  80S 

employ  your  newly-gained  freeaom  in  a  voyage  to  Syria,  and 
to  exchange  your  English  prison  for  the  dungeon  of  the 
Soldan?" 

"  If  thou  thyself  wilt  act  as  my  guide,"  answered  the  un- 
daunted youth,  "'  you  shall  not  say  I  dally  by  the  way." 

"  And  the  ransom,"  said  the  palmer,  *'  how  is  that  to  be 
provided  ?  " 

"  How,  but  from  the  estates,  which,  nominally  restored  to 
me,  remain  in  truth  and  justice  my  uncle's,  and  must  be  ap- 
plied to  his  use  in  the  first  instance  ?  If  I  mistake  not 
greatly,  there  is  not  a  Jew  or  Lombard  who  would  not  ad- 
vance the  necessary  sums  on  such  security.  Therefore, 
dog,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  jailer,  "  hasten  thy  un- 
clenching and  undoing  of  rivets,  and  be  not  dainty  of  giving 
me  a  little  pain,  so  thou  break  no  limb,  for  I  cannot  afford 
to  be  stayed  on  my  journey." 

The  palmer  looked  on  a  little  while,  as  if  surprised  at 
Damian's  determination,  then  exclaimed,  "lean  keep  the 
old  man's  secret  no  longer  ;  such  higli-souled  generosity 
must  not  be  sacrificed.  Hark  thee,  brave  Sir  Damian,  I 
have  a  mighty  secret  still  to  impart,  and  as  this  Saxon  churl 
understands  no  French,  this  is  no  unfit  opportunity  to  com- 
municate it.  Know  that  thine  uncle  is  a  changed  man  in 
mind,  as  he  is  debilitated  and  broken  down  in  body.  Peev- 
ishness and  jealousy  have  possessed  themselves  of  a  heart 
which  was  once  strong  and  generous  ;  his  life  is  now  on 
the  dregs,  and,  I  grieve  to  speak  it,  these  dregs  are  foul  and 
bitter." 

"  Is  this  thy  mighty  secret  ?"  said  Damian.  "  That  men 
grow  old,  I  know  ;  and  if  with  infirmity  of  body  comes 
infirmity  of  temper  and  mind,  their  case  the  more  strongly 
claims  the  dutiful  observance  of  those  who  are  bound  to 
them  in  blood  or  affection," 

"Ay,"  replied  the  pilgrim,  "but  the  Constable's  mind 
has  been  poisoned  against  thee  by  rumors  which  have  reached 
his  ear  from  England,  that  there  have  been  thoughts  of  af- 
fection betwixt  thee  and  his  betrothed  bride,  Eveline 
Berenger.     Ha  !  have  I  touched  you  now  ?" 

"Not  a  whit,"  said  Damian,  putting  on  the  strongest 
resolution  with  which  his  virtue  could  supply  him  ;  "  it  was 
but  this  fellow  who  struck  my  shin-bone  somewhat  sharply 
with  his  hammer.  Proceed.  My  uncle  heard  such  a  report, 
and  believed  it  ?  " 

"  He  did,"  said  the  palmer  ;  "  I  can  well  aver  it,  since  he 
concealed  no  thought  from  me.     But  he  prayed  me  care- 


304  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

fully  to  hide  his  suspicions  from  you.  '  Otherwise/  said  he, 
'  the  young  wolf-cub  will  never  thrust  himself  into  the  trap 
for  the  deliverance  of  the  old  he-wolf.  Were  he  once  in  my 
prison-house/  your  uncle  continued  to  speak  of  you,  'he 
should  rot  and  die  ere  I  sent  one  penny  of  ransom  to  set  at 
liberty  the  lover  of  my  betrothed  bride.'" 

*'  Could  this  be  my  uncle's  sincere  purpose  ?  "  said  Damian, 
all  aghast.  "  Could  he  plan  so  much  treachery  towards  me 
as  to  leave  me  in  the  captivity  into  which  I  threw  myself  for 
his  redemption  ?     Tush  !  it  cannot  be/' 

"  Flatter  not  yourself  with  such  a  vain  opinion/'  said  the 
palmer:  "  if  you  go  to  Syria,  you  go  to  eternal  captivity, 
while  your  uncle  returns  to  possession  of  wealth  little  dimin- 
ished— and  of  Eveline  Berenger." 

"Ha!"  ejaculated  Damian;  and,  looking  down  for  an 
instant,  demanded  of  the  palmer,  in  a  subdued  voice,  what 
he  would  have  him  to  do  in  such  an  extremity. 

"The  case  is  plain,  according  to  my  poor  judgment," 
replied  the  palmer.  "  No  one  is  bound  to  faith  with  those 
who  mean  to  observe  none  with  him.  Anticipate  this 
treachery  of  your  uncle,  and  let  his  now  short  and  infirm 
existence  molder  out  in  the  pestiferous  cell  to  which  he 
would  condemn  your  youthful  strength.  The  royal  grant 
has  assigned  you  lands  enough  for  your  honorable  support  ; 
and  wherefore  not  unite  with  them  those  of  the  Garde 
Doloureuse  ?  Eveline  Berenger,  if  I  do  not  greatly  mis- 
take, will  scarcely  say  'nay.'  Ay,  more — I  vouch  it  on  my 
soul  that  she  will  say  '  yes,'  for  I  have  sure  information  of 
her  mind  ;  and  for  her  pre-contract,  a  word  from  Henry  to 
His  Holiness,  now  that  they  are  in  the  heyday  of  their  rec- 
onciliation, will  obliterate  the  name  '  Hugo'  from  the  parch- 
ment, and  insert  '  Damian'  in  its  stead." 

"  JSTow,  by  my  faith,"  said  Damian,  arising  and  placing 
his  foot  upon  the  stool,  that  the  warder  might  more  easily 
strike  oK  the  last  ring  by  which  he  was  encumbered,  "  I 
have  heard  of  such  things  as  this — I  have  heard  of  beings 
who,  with  seeming  gravity  of  word  and  aspect,  with  subtle 
counsels,  artfully  applied  to  the  frailties  of  human  nature, 
have  haunted  the  cells  of  despairing  men,  and  made  them 
many  a  fair  promise,  if  they  would  but  exchange  for  their 
by-ways  the  paths  of  salvation.  Such  are  the  fiend's  dearest 
agents,  and  in  such  a  guise  hath  the  fiend  himself  been 
known  to  appear.  In  the  name  of  God,  old  man,  if  human 
thou  art,  begone  !  I  like  not  thy  words  or  thy  presence — I 
spit  at  thy  counsels.      And  mark  me,"  he  added,  with  a 


THE  BETROTHED  305 

menacing  gesture,  "look  to  thine  own  safety  ;  I  shall  pres- 
ently be  at  liberty  !" 

"Boy,"  replied  the  palmer,  folding  his  arms  contemptu- 
ously in  his  cloak,  "  I  scorn  thy  menaces ;  I  leave  thee  not 
till  we  know  each  other  better." 

"I  too,"  said  Damian,  "would  fain  know  whether  thou 
be'st  man  or  fiend  ;  and  now  for  the  trial."  As  he  spoke, 
the  last  shackle  fell  from  his  leg  and  clashed  on  the  pave- 
ment, and  at  the  same  moment  he  sprung  on  the  palmer, 
caught  him  by  the  waist,  and  exclaimed,  as  he  made  three 
distinct  and  desperate  attempts  to  lift  him  up  and  dash  hmi 
headlong  to  the  earth,  "  This  for  maligning  a  nobleman, 
this  for  doubting  the  honor  of  a  knight,  and  this  (with  a  yet 
more  violent  exertion)  for  belying  a  lady  ! " 

Each  effort  of  Damian  seemed  equal  to  have  rooted  up  a 
tree  ;  yet,  though  they  staggered  the  old  man,  they  over- 
threw him  not ;  and  while  Damian  panted  with  his  last  exer- 
tion, he  replied,  "And  take  thou  this,  for  so  roughly 
entreating  thy  father's  brother." 

As  he  spoke,  Damian  de  Lacy,  the  best  youthful  Avrestler 
in  Cheshire,  received  no  soft  fall  on  the  floor  of  the  dun- 
geon. He  arose  slowly  and  astounded  ;  but  the  palmer  had 
now  thrown  back  both  hood  and  dalmatique,  and  the  fea- 
tures, though  bearing  marks  of  age  and  climate,  were  those 
of  his  uncle  the  Constable,  who  calmly  observed,  "I  think, 
Damian,  thou  art  become  stronger,  or  I  weaker,  since  my 
breast  was  last  pressed  against  yours  in  our  country's  cele- 
barted  sport.  Thou  hadst  nigh  had  me  down  in  that  last 
turn,  but  that  I  knew  the  old  De  Lacy's  back- trip  as  well  as 
thou.  But  wherefore  kneel,  man?"  He  raised  him  with 
much  kindness,  kissed  his  cheek,  and  proceeded — "  Think 
not,  my  dearest  nephew,  that  I  meant  in  my  late  disguise 
to  try  your  faith,  which  I  myself  never  doubted.  But  evil 
tongues  had  been  busy,  and  it  was  this  which  made  me 
resolve  on  an  experiment,  the  result  of  which  has  been,  as  I 
expected,  most  honorable  for  you.  And  know — for  these 
walls  have  sometimes  ears,  even  according  to  the  letter — 
there  are  ears  and  eyes  not  far  distant  which  have  heard  and 
seen  the  whole.  Marry,  I  wish,  though,  thy  last  hug  had 
not  been  so  severe  a  one.  My  ribs  still  feel  the  impression 
of  thy  knuckles." 

"  Dearest  and   honored   uncle,"  said   Damian,   "  excuse 

"  There  is  nothing  to  excuse,"  replied  his  uncle,  inter- 
rupting him.     "  Have  we  not  wrestled  a  turn  before  now  ? 

20 


306  WA  VERL  EY  NO  VEL  S 

But  there  remains  yet  one  trial  for  thee  to  go  through.  Get 
thee  out  of  this  hole  speedily  ;  don  thy  best  array  to  accom- 
pany me  to  the  church  at  noon  ;  for,  Uamian,  thou  must  be 
present  at  the  marriage  of  the  Lady  Eveline  Berenger." 

This  proposal  at  once  struck  to  the  earth  the  unhappy 
young  man.  "  For  mercy's  sake/'  he  exclaimed,  "  hold  me 
excused  in  this,  my  gracious  uncle  !  I  have  been  of  late 
severely  wounded,  and  am  very  weak." 

"  As  my  bones  can  testify,"  said  his  uncle.  "Why,  man, 
thou  hast  the  strength  of  a  Xorway  bear." 

"  Passion,"  answered  Damian,  "might  give  me  strength 
for  a  moment ;  but,  dearest  uncle,  ask  anything  of  me 
rather  than  this.  Methinks,  if  I  have  been  faulty,  some 
other  punishment  might  suffice." 

"  I  tell  thee,"  said  the  Constable,  "thy  presence  is  neces- 
sary— indispensably  necessary.  Strange  reports  have  been 
abroad,  which  thy  absence  on  this  occasion  would  go  far  to 
confirm.  Eveline's  character  and  mine  own  are  concerned 
in  this." 

"If  so,"  said  Damien — "if  it  be  indeed  so,  no  task  will 
be  too  hard  for  me.  But  I  trust,  when  the  ceremony  is 
over,  you  will  not  refuse  me  your  consent  to  take  the  cross, 
unless  you  should  prefer  my  joining  the  troops  destined,  as 
I  heard^,  for  tlie  conquest  of  Ireland." 

"  Ay — ay,"  said  the  Constable  ;  "  if  Eveline  grant  you 
permission,  I  will  not  withhold  mine." 

*' Uncle,"  said  Damian,  somewhat  sternly,  "you  do  not 
know  the  feelings  which  you  jest  with." 

"Nay,"  said  the  Constable,  "I  compel  nothing;  for,  if 
thou  goest  to  the  church  and  likest  not  the  match,  thou 
may'st  put  a  stop  to  it  if  thou  wilt :  the  sacrament  cannot 
proceed  without  the  bridegroom's  consent." 

"  I  understand  you  not,  uncle,"  said  Damian  ;  "  you  have 
already  consented." 

"Yes,  Damian,"  he  said,  "I  have — to  withdraw  my 
claim,  and  to  relinquish  it  in  thy  favor  ;  for  if  Eveline 
Berenger  is  wedded  to-day,  thou  art  her  bridegroom.  The 
church  has  given  her  sanction,  the  King  his  approbation, 
the  lady  says  not  '  nay,'  and  the  question  only  now  remains, 
whether  the  bridegroom  will  say  'yes.'" 

The  nature  of  the  answer  may  be  easily  conceived  ;  nor  is 
it  necessary  to  dwell  upon  the  splendor  of  the  ceremonial, 
which,  to  atone  for  his  late  unmerited  severity,  Henry  hon- 
ored with  his  own  presence.  Amelot  and  Eose  were  shortly 
afterwards  united,  old  Flammock  having  been  previously 


THE  BETROTHED  307 

created  a  gentleman  of  coat  armor,  tliat  the  gentle  Norman 
blood  might,  without  utter  derogation,  mingle  with  the 
meaner  stream  which  colored  the  cheek  in  crimson,  and 
meandered  in  azure  over  the  lovely  neck  and  bosom  of  the 
fair  Fleming.  There  was  nothing  in  the  manner  of  the 
Constable  towards  his  nephew  and  his  bride  which  could 
infer  a  regret  of  the  generous  self-denial  which  he  had  ex- 
ercised in  favor  of  their  youthful  passion  ;  but  he  soon  after 
accepted  a  high  command  in  the  troops  destined  to  invade 
Ireland,  and  his  name  is  found  among  the  highest  in  the 
roll  of  the  chivalrous  Normans  who  first  united  that  fair 
island  to  the  English  crown. 

Eveline,  restored  to  her  own  fair  castle  and  domains, 
failed  not  to  provide  for  her  confessor,  as  well  as  for  her  old 
soldiers,  servants  and  retainers,  forgetting  their  errors  and 
remembering  their  fidelity.  The  confessor  was  restored  to 
the  flesh-pots,  of  Egypt,  more  congenial  to  his  habits  than 
the  meager  fare  of  his  convent.  Even  Gillian  had  the 
means  of  subsistence,  since  to  punish  her  would  have  been 
to  distress  the  faithful  Raoul.  They  quarreled  for  the 
future  part  of  their  lives  in  plenty,  just  as  they  had  for- 
merly quarreled  in  poverty  ;  for  wrangling  curs  will  fight 
over  a  banquet  as  fiercely  as  over  a  bare  bone.  Eaoul  died 
first,  and  Gillian,  having  lost  her  whetstone,  found  that  as 
her  youthful  looks  decayed  her  wit  turned  somewhat  blunt. 
She  therefore  prudently  commenced  devotee,  and  spent 
hours  in  long  panegyrics  on  her  departed  husband. 

The  only  serious  cause  of  vexation  which  I  can  trace  the 
Lady  Eveline  having  been  tried  with  arose  from  a  visit  of 
her  Saxon  relative,  made  with  much  form,  but,  unfortu- 
nately, at  the  very  time  which  the  lady  abbess  had  selected 
for  that  same  purpose.  The  discord  which  arose  between 
these  honored  personages  was  of  a  double  character,  for  they 
Avere  Norman  and  Saxon,  and,  moreover,  differed  in  opinion 
concerning  the  time  of  holding  Easter.  This,  however, 
was  but  a  slight  gale  to  disturb  the  general  serenity  of 
Eveline  ;  for  with  her  unhoped-for  union  with  Damian 
ended  the  trials  and  sorrows  of  The  Betkothed. 

E2fO  OF  THE  BEIBOTHED. 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE 


312  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Eastern  tale  ;  and  no  doubt  believed  that  I  might  venture, 
without  silly  imprudence,  to  extend  my  personal  expenditure 
considerably  beyond  what  I  should  have  thought  of  had  my 
means  been  limited  to  the  competence  wliich  I  derived  from 
inheritance,  with  the  moderate  income  of  a  professional 
situation.  I  bought,  and  built,  and  planted,  and  was  con- 
sidered by  myself,  as  by  the  rest  of  the  world,  in  the  safe 
possession  of  an  easy  fortune.  My  riclies,  however,  like  the 
other  riches  of  this  world,  were  liable  to  accidents,  under 
which  they  were  ultimately  destined  to  make  unto  them- 
selves wings  and  fly  away.  The  year  1825,  so  disastrous  to 
many  branches  of  industry  and  commerce,  did  not  spare  the 
market  of  literature  ;  and  the  sudden  ruin  that  fell  on  so 
many  of  the  booksellers  could  scarcely  have  been  expected  to 
leave  unscatlied  one  whose  career  had  of  necessity  connected 
him  deeply  and  extensively  with  the  pecuniary  transactions 
of  that  profession.  In  a  word,  almost  without  one  note  of 
premonition,  I  found  myself  involved  in  the  sweeping  catas- 
trophe of  the  unhappy  time,  and  called  on  to  meet  the  de- 
mands of  creditors  upon  commerci;ii  establishments  with 
which  my  fortunes  had  long  been  bound  up,  to  the  extent 
of  no  less  a  sum  than  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
pounds. 

The  Author  having,  however  rashly,  committed  his  pledges 
thus  largely  to  the  hazards  of  trading  companies,  it  behoved 
him,  of  course,  to  abide  the  consequences  of  his  conduct, 
and,  with  whatever  feelings,  he  surrendered  on  the  instant 
every  shred  of  property  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
call  his  own.  It  became  vested  in  the  hands  of  gentlemen, 
whose  integrity,  prudence,  and  intelligence  were  combined 
with  all  possible  liberality  and  kindness  of  disposition,  and 
who  readily  afforded  every  assistance  towards  the  execution 
of  plans  in  the  success  of  wdiich  the  Author  contemplated 
the  possibility  of  liis  ultimate  extrication,  and  which  were 
of  such  a  nature  that,  had  assistance  of  this  sort  been  with- 
held, he  could  have  had  little  prospect  of  carrying  them  into 
effect.  Among  other  resources  which  occurred  was  the  pro- 
ject of  that  complete  and  corrected  edition  of  his  novels  and 
romances  (whose  real  parentage  had  of  necessity  been  dis- 
closed at  the  moment  of  the  commercial  convulsions  alluded 
to),  which  has  now  advanced  with  unprecedented  favor 
nearly  to  its  close  ;  but  as  he  purj^osed  also  to  continue,  for 
the  behoof  of  those  to  whom  he  was  indebted,  the  exercise 
of  his  pen  in  the  same  pr.th  of  literature,  so  long  as  the  taste 
of  his  countrymen  should  seem  to  approve  of  his  efforts,  it 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  313 

appeared  to  him  that  it  would  have  been  an  idle  piece  of 
affectation  to  attempt  getting  up  a  new  incognito,  after 
his  original  visor  had  been  thus  dashed  from  his  brow. 
Hence  the  personal  narrative  prefixed  to  the  first  work 
of  fiction  which  he  put  forth  after  the  isaternity  of  the 
Waverley  Novels  had  come  to  be  publicly  ascertained  ;  and 
though  many  of  the  particulars  originally  avowed  in  that 
notice  have  been  unavoidably  adverted  to  in  the  prefaces  and 
notes  to  some  of  the  preceding  volumes  of  the  present  collec- 
tion, it  is  now  reprinted  as  it  stood  at  the  time,  because  some 
interest  is  generally  attached  to  a  coin  or  medal  struck  on  a 
special  occasion,  as  expressing,  perhaps,  more  faithfully  than 
the  same  artist  could  have  afterwards  conveyed  the  feelings 
of  the  moment  that  gave  it  birth. 

The  Introduction  to  the  First  Series  of  Chronicles  of  the 
Canongate  [1827]  ran,  then,  in  these  words  : 

All  who  are  acquainted  with  the  early  history  of  the  Italian 
stage  are  aware  that  arlechino  is  not,  in  his  original  concep- 
tion, a  mere  worker  of  marvels  with  his  wooden  sword,  a 
jumper  in  and  out  of  windows,  as  upon  our  theater,  but,  as 
his  parti-colored  jacket  implies,  a  buffoon  or  clown,  whose 
mouth,  far  from  being  eternally  closed,  as  amongst  us,  is 
filled,  like  that  of  Touchstone,  with  quips,  and  cranks,  and 
witty  devices,  very  often  delivered  extempore.  It  is  not 
easy  to  trace  how  he  became  possessed  of  his  black  vizard, 
which  was  anciently  made  in  the  resemblance  of  the  face  of 
a  cat  ;  but  it  seems  that  the  mask  was  essential  to  the  per- 
formance of  the  character,  as  will  appear  from  the  following 
theatrical  anecdote  : — 

An  actor  on  the  Italian  stage  permitted  at  i\\e  foire  du  St. 
Germain,  in  Paris,  was  renowned  for  the  wild,  venturous, 
and  extravagant  wit,  the  brilliant  sallies  and  fortunate  rep- 
artees, with  which  he  prodigally  seasoned  the  character  of 
the  parti-colored  jester.  Some  critics,  whose  good-will  to- 
wards a  favorite  performer  was  stronger  than  their  judgment, 
took  occasion  to  remonstrate  with  the  successful  actor  on 
the  subject  of  the  grotesque  vizard.  They  went  wilily  to 
their  purpose,  observing,  that  his  classical  and  Attic  wit,  his 
delicate  vein  of  humor,  his  happy  turn  for  dialogue,  were 
rendered  burlesque  and  ludicrous  by  this  unmeaning  and 
bizarre  disguise,  and  that  those  attributes  would  become  far 
more  impressive  if  aided  by  the  spirit  of  his  eye  and  the  ex- 
pression of  his  natural  features.  The  actor's  vanity  was 
easily  so  far  engaged  as  to  induce  him  to  make  the  experi- 


S14  WAVEBLET  NOVELS 

ment.  He  played  harlequin  barefaced,  but  was  considered 
on  all  hands  as  having  made  a  total  failure.  He  had  lost 
the  audacity  which  a  sense  of  incognito  bestowed,  and  with 
it  all  the  reckless  play  of  raillery  which  gave  vivacity  to  his 
original  acting.  He  cursed  his  advisers,  and  resumed  his 
grotesque  vizard  ;  but,  it  is  said,  without  ever  being  able  to 
regain  the  careless  and  successful  levity  which  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  disguise  had  formerly  bestowed. 

Perhaps  the  Author  of  Waverley  is  now  about  to  incur  a 
risk  of  the  same  kind,  and  endanger  his  popularity  by  hav- 
ing laid  aside  his  incognito.  It  is  certainly  not  a  voluntary 
experiment,  like  that  of  harlequin  ;  for  it  was  my  original 
intention  never  to  have  avowed  these  works  during  my  life- 
time, and  the  original  manuscripts  were  carefully  preserved, 
though  by  the  care  of  others  rather  than  mine,  with  the 
purpose  of  supplying  the  necessary  evidence  of  the  truth 
when  the  period  of  announcing  it  should  arrive.*  But  the 
affairs  of  my  publishers  having  unfortunately  passed  into  a 
management  different  from  tlieir  own,  I  had  no  right  any 
longer  to  rely  upon  secrecy  in  that  quarter  ;  and  thus  my 
mask,  like  my  Aunt  Dinah's  in  Tristram  Shandy,  having 
begun  to  wax  a  little  threadbare  about  the  chin,  it  became 
time  to  lay  it  aside  with  a  good  grace,  unless  I  desired  it 
should  fall  in  pieces  from  my  face,  which  was  now  become 
likely. 

Yet  I  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  selecting  the  time 
and  place  in  which  the  disclosure  was  finally  made  ;  nor  was 
there  any  concert  betwixt  my  learned  and  respected  friend 
Lord  Meadowbank  f  and  myself  upon  that  occasion.  It  was, 
as  the  reader  is  probably  aware,  upon  the  23d  February  last 
[1827] ,  at  a  public  meeting,  called  for  establishing  a  pro- 
fessional Theatrical  Fund  in  Edinburgh,  that  the  communi- 
cation took  place.  \  Just  before  we  sat  down  to  table. 
Lord  Meadowbank  asked  me  privately  whether  I  was  still 
anxious  to  preserve  my  incognito  on  the  subject  of  what 
were  called  the  Waverley  Novels  ?  I  did  not  immediately 
see  the  purpose  of  his  lordship's  question,  although  I  cer- 
tainly might  have  been  led  to  infer  it,  and  replied  that 
the  secret  had  now  of  necessity  become  known  to  so  many 
people  that  I  was  indifferent  on  the  subject.    Lord  Meadow- 

*  These  manuscripts  are  at  present  (August  1831)  advertised  for 
public  sale,  which  is  an  addition,  though  a  small  one,  to  other 
annoyances 

f  One  of  the  Supreme  Judges  of  Scotland,  termed  Lords  of  Coun- 
cil and  Session.  %  See  Appendix. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  315 

bank  was  thus  induced,  while  doing  me  the  great  honor 
of  proposing  my  health  to  the  meeting,  to  say  something 
on  the  subject  of  these  Novels,  so  strongly  connecting  them 
with  me  as  the  author,  that,  by  remaining  silent,  I  must 
have  stood  convicted,  either  of  the  actual  paternity,  or  of 
the  still  greater  crime  of  being  supposed  willing  to  receive 
indirectly  praise  to  which  I  had  no  just  title.  1  thus  found 
myself  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  placed  in  the  confessional, 
and  had  only  time  to  recollect  that  I  had  been  guided  thither 
by  a  most  friendly  hand,  and  could  not,  perhaps,  find  a  bet- 
ter public  opportunity  to  lay  down  a  disguise  which  began 
to  resemble  that  of  a  detected  masquerader.  I  had  .here- 
fore  the  task  of  avowing  myself,  to  the  numerous  and  re- 
spectable company  assembled,  as  the  sole  and  unaided  author 
of  these  Novels  of  Waverley,  the  paternity  of  which  was 
likely  at  one  time  to  have  formed  a  controversy  of  some 
celebrity,  for  the  ingenuity  with  which  some  instructors  of 
the  public  gave  their  assurance  on  the  subject  was  extremely 
persevering. 

I  now  think  it  further  necessary  to  say,  that,  while  I  take 
on  myself  all  the  merits  and  demerits  attending  these  com- 
positions, I  am  bound  to  acknowledge  with  gratitude  hints 
of  subjects  and  legends  which  I  have  received  from  various 
quarters,  and  have  occasionally  used  as  a  foundation  of  my 
fictitious  compositions,  or  woven  up  with  them  in  the  shape 
of  episodes.  I  am  bound,  in  particular,  to  acknowledge  the 
unremitting  kindness  of  Mr.  Joseph  Train,  supervisor  of  ex- 
cise at  Dumfries,  to  whose  unwearied  industry  I  have  been 
indebted  for  many  curious  traditions  and  points  of  antiqua- 
rian interest.  It  was  Mr.  Train,  who  brought  to  my  recollec- 
tion the  history  of  Old  Mortality,  although  I  myself  had  had 
a  personal  interview  with  that  celebrated  wanderer  so  far 
back  as  about  1792,  when  I  found  him  on  his  usual  task.  He 
was  then  engaged  in  repairing  the  gravestones  of  the  Cove- 
nanters who  had  died  while  imprisoned  in  the  Castle  of  Dun- 
nottar,  to  which  many  of  them  were  committed  prisoners  at 
the  period  of  Argyle's  rising  ;  their  place  of  confinement  is 
still  called  the  Whigs'  Vault.  Mr.  Train,  however,  pro- 
cured for  me  far  more  extensive  information  concerning  this 
singular  person,  whose  name  was  Paterson,  than  I  had  been 
able  to  acquire  during  my  own  short  conversation  with  him.* 
He  was,  as  I  think  I  have  somewhere  already  stated,  a  native 
of  the  parish  of  Closeburn,  in  Dumfriesshire,  and  it  is  be- 

*  See,  for  some  further  particulars,  the  notes  to  Old  Mortality. 


316  WAV ERLEY  NOVELS 

lieved  that  domestic  affliction,  as  well  as  devotional  feeling, 
induced  him  to  commence  the  wandering  mode  of  life  which 
he  pursued  for  a  very  long  period.  It  is  more  than  twenty 
years  since  Robert  Paterson's  death,  which  took  place  on 
the  highroad  near  Lockerby,  where  he  was  found  ex- 
hausted and  expiring.  The  white  pony,  the  companion  of 
his  pilgrimage,  was  standing  by  the  side  of  its  dying  master, 
the  whole  furnishing  a  scene  not  unfitted  for  the  pencil. 
These  particulars  I  had  from  Mr.  Train. 

Another  debt,  which  I  pay  most  Avillingly,  I  owe  to  an  un- 
known correspondent,  a  lady,*  who  favored  me  Avith  the 
history  of  the  upright  and  higli-priucipled  female  whom,  in 
in  Tlie  Heart  of  Midlothian,  I  have  termed  Jeanie  Deans. 
The  circumstance  of  her  refusing  to  save  her  sister's  life  by 
an  act  of  perjury,  and  undertaking  a  pilgrimage  to  London 
to  obtain  her  pardon,  are  both  represented  as  true  by  my 
fair  and  obliging  correspondent ;  and  they  led  me  to  con- 
sider the  possibility  of  rendering  a  fictitious  personage  in- 
teresting by  mere  dignity  of  mind  and  rectitude  of  prin- 
ciple, assisted  by  unpretending  good  sense  and  temper,  with' 
out  any  of  the  beauty,  grace,  talent,  accomplishment,  and 
Avit  to  which  a  heroine  of  romance  is  supposed  to  have  a 
prescriptive  right.  If  the  portrait  was  received  with  inter- 
est by  the  public,  I  am  conscious  how  much  it  was  owing  to 
the  truth  and  force  of  the  original  sketch,  which  I  regret 
that  I  am  unable  to  present  to  the  public,  as  it  was  written 
with  much  feeling  and  spirit. 

Old  and  odd  books,  and  a  considerable  collection  of  family 
legends,  formed  another  quarry,  so  ample,  that  it  was  much 
more  likely  that  the  strength 'of  the  laborer  should  be  ex- 
hausted than  that  materials  should  fail.  I  may  mention, 
for  example's  sake,  that  the  terrible  catastrophe  of  Tlie  Bride 
of  Lammermoor  actually  occurred  in  a  Scottish  family  of 
rank.  The  female  relative,  by  whom  the  melancholy  tale 
was  communicated  to  me  many  years  since,  was  a  near  con- 
nection of  the  family  in  which  the  event  happened,  and 
always  told  it  with  an  appearance  of  melancholy  mystery, 
which  enhanced  the  interest.  She  had  known,  in  her  youth, 
the  brother  who  rode  before  the  unhappy  victim  to  the  fatal 
altar,  who,  though  then  a  mere  boy,  and  occupied  almost 
entirely  with  tlie  gaiety  of  his  own  appearance  in  the  bridal 
procession,  could  not  but  remark  that  the  hand  of  his  sister 
was  moist,  and  cold  as  that  of  a  statue.     It  is  unnecessary 

•  The  late  Mrs.  Goldie. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  317 

further  to  withdraw  the  veil  from  this  scene  of  family  dis- 
tress, nor,  although  it  occurred  more  than  a  hundred  years 
since,  might  it  be  altogether  agreeable  to  the  representa- 
tives of  the  families  concerned  in  the  narrative.  It  may  be 
proper  to  say,  that  the  events  alone  are  imitated  ;  but  I  had 
neither  the  means  nor  intention  of  copying  the  manners,  or 
tracing  the  characters,  of  the  persons  concerned  in  the  real 
story. 

Indeed,  I  may  here  state  generally,  that,  although  I  have 
deemed  historical  personages  free  subjects  of  delineation,  I 
have  never  on  any  occasion  violated  the  respect  due  to  private 
life.  It  was  indeed  impossible  that  traits  proper  to  per- 
sons, both  living  and  dead,  with  whom  I  have  had  inter- 
course in  society,  should  not  have  risen  to  my  pen  in  such 
works  as  Waverley  and  those  which  followed  it.  But  I  have 
always  studied  to  generalize  the  portraits,  so  that  they  should 
still  seem,  on  the  whole,  the  productions  of  fancy,  though 
possessing  some  resemblance  to  real  individuals.  Yet  I 
must  own  my  attempts  have  not  in  this  last  particular  been 
uniformly  successful.  There  are  men  whose  characters  are 
so  peculiarly  marked,  that  the  delineation  of  some  leading 
and  principal  feature  inevitably  places  the  whole  person  be- 
fore you  in  his  individuality.  Thus,  the  character  of  Jon- 
athan Oldbuck,  in  The  Antiquary ,  was  partly  founded  on 
that  of  an  old  friend  of  my  youth,  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
for  introducing  me  to  Shakspeare,  and  other  invaluable 
favors  ;  but  Itliought  I  had  so  completely  disguised  the  like- 
ness that  his  features  could  not  be  recognized  by  any  one 
now  alive.  I  was  mistaken,  however,  and  indeed  had  endan- 
gered what  I  desired  should  be  considered  as  a  secret ;  for  I 
afterwards  learned  that  a  highly  respectable  gentleman,  one 
of  the  few  surviving  friends  of  my  father,*  and  an  acute 
critic,  had  said,  upon  the  appearance  of  the  work,  that  he 
was  now  convinced  who  was  the  author  of  it,  as  he  recog- 
nized, in  the  Antiquary  of  Monkbarns,  traces  of  the  char- 
acter of  a  very  intimate  friend  of  my  father's  family. 

I  may  here  also  notice,  that  the  sort  of  exchange  of  gallan- 
try which  is  represented  as  taking  place  betwixt  the  baron  of 
Bradwardine  [Waverley]  and  Colonel  Talbot  is  a  literal  fact. 
The  real  circumstances  of  the  anecdote,  alike  honorable  to 
Whig  and  Tory,  are  these  : — 

Alexander  Stewart  of  Invernahyle — a  name  which  I  can- 

*  James  Chalmers,  Esq.,  solicitor-at-la\v,  London,  who  died 
during  tlie  publication  of  the  collected  Edition  of  these  novels, 
(Aug.  1831.) 


318  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

not  write  without  the  warmest  recollections  of  gratitude  to 
the  friend  of  my  childhood,  who  first  introduced  me  to  the 
Highlands,  their  traditions  and  their  manners — had  been  en- 
gaged actively  in  the  troubles  of  1745.  As  he  charged  at 
the  battle  of  Preston  with  his  clan,  the  Stewarts  of  Appine, 
he  saw  an  officer  of  the  opposite  army  standing  alone  by 
a  battery  of  four  cannon,  of  which  he  discharged  three  on 
the  advancing  Highlanders,  and  then  drew  his  sword.  In- 
vernahyle  rushed  on  him,  and  required  him  to  surrender. 
''  Never  to  rebels  !  "  was  the  undaunted  reply,  accompanied 
with  a  lunge,  which  the  Highlander  received  on  his  target ; 
but  instead  of  using  his  sword  in  cutting  down  his  now  de- 
fenseless antagonist,  he  employed  it  in  parrying  the  blow  of 
a  Lochaber  ax,  aimed  at  the  officer  by  the  miller,  one  of  his 
own  followers,  a  grim-looking  old  Highlander,  whom  I  re- 
member to  have  seen.  Thus,  overpowered,  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Allan  Whitefoord,  a  gentleman  of  rank  and  conse- 
quence, as  well  as  a  brave  officer,  gave  up  his  sword,  and 
with  it  his  purse  and  watch,  which  Invernahyle  accepted, 
to  save  them  from  his  followers.  After  the  affair  was  over, 
Mr.  Stewart  sought  out  his  prisoner,  as  they  were  introduced 
to  each  other  by  the  celebrated  John  Roy  Stewart,  who  ac- 
quainted Colonel  Whitefoord  with  the  quality  of  his  captor, 
and  made  him  aware  of  the  necessity  of  receiving  back  his 
property,  which  he  was  inclined  to  leave  in  the  hands  into 
which  it  had  fallen.  So  great  became  the  confidence  estab- 
lished betwixt  them,  that  Invernahyle  obtained  from  the 
Chevalier  his  prisoner's  freedom  upon  parole  ;  and  soon  after- 
wards, having  been  sent  back  to  the  Highlands  to  raise  men, 
he  visited  Colonel  Whitefoord  at  his  own  house,  and  spent 
two  happy  days  with  him  and  his  Whig  friends,  without 
thinking,  on  either  side,  of  the  civil  war  which  was  then 
raging. 

When  the  battle  of  Culloden  put  an  end  to  the  hopes  of 
Charles  Edward,  Invernahyle,  wounded  and  unable  to  move, 
was  borne  from  the  field  by  the  faithful  zeal  of  his  retainers. 
But,  as  he  had  been  a  distinguished  Jacobite,  his  family  and 
property  were  exposed  to  the  system  of  vindictive  destruc- 
tion too  generally  carried  into  execution  through  the  country 
vt  the  insurgents.  It  was  now  Colonel  Whitefoord's  turn  to 
exert  himself,  and  he  wearied  all  the  authorities,  civil  and 
military,  with  his  solicitations  for  pardon  to  the  saver  of  his 
life,  or  at  least  for  a  protection  for  his  wife  and  family.  His 
applications  were  for  a  long  time  unsuccessful.  **  I  was 
found  with  the  mark  of  the  beast  upon  me  in  every  list," 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  3i9 

was  Invernahyle's  expression.  At  length  Colonel  Wliitefoord 
applied  to  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  and  urged  his  suit 
with  every  argument  which  he  could  think  of.  Being  still 
repulsed,  he  took  his  commission  from  his  bosom,  and,  having 
said  something  of  his  own  and  his  family's  exertions  in  the 
cause  of  the  house  of  Hanover,  begged  to  resign  his  situation 
in  their  service,  since  he  could  not  be  permitted  to  show  his 
gratitude  to  the  person  to  whom  he  owed  his  life.  The  Duke, 
struck  with  his  earnestness,  desired  him  to  take  up  his  com- 
mission, and  granted  the  protection  required  for  the  family 
of  Invernahyle. 

The  chieftain  himself  lay  concealed  in  a  cave  nCcir  his 
own  house,  before  which  a  small  body  of  regular  soldiers 
were  encamped.  He  could  hear  their  muster-roll  called 
every  morning,  and  their  drums  beat  to  quarters  at  night, 
and  not  a  change  of  the  sentinels  escaped  him.  As  it  was 
suspected  that  he  was  lurking  somewhere  on  the  property, 
his  family  were  closely  watched,  and  compelled  to  use  the 
utmost  precaution  in  supplying  him  with  food.  One  of  his 
daughters,  a  child  of  eight  or  ten  years  old,  was  employed 
as  the  agent  least  likely  to  be  suspected.  She  was  an  instance 
among  others,  that  a  time  of  danger  and  difficulty  creates 
a  premature  sharpness  of  intellect.  She  made  herself  ac- 
quainted among  the  soldiers,  till  she  became  so  familiar  to 
them  that  her  motions  escaped  their  notice  ;  and  her  prac- 
tise was  to  stroll  away  into  the  neighborhood  of  the  cave, 
and  leave  what  slender  supply  of  food  slie  carried  for  that 
purpose  under  some  remarkable  stone,  or  the  root  of  some 
tree,  where  her  father  might  find  it  as  he  crept  by  night 
from  his  lurking-place.  Times  became  milder,  and  my  ex- 
cellent friend  was  relieved  from  proscription  by  the  Act  of 
Indemnity.  Such  is  the  interesting  story  which  ^  I  have 
rather  injured  than  improved  by  the  manner  in  which  it  is 
told  in  Waverley. 

This  incident,  with  several  other  circumstances  illustrat- 
ing the  Tales  in  question,  was  communicated  by  me  to  my 
late  lamented  friend,  William  Erskine,  a  Scottish  judge,  by 
the  title  of  Lord  Kinedder,  who  afterwards  reviewed  with 
far  too  much  partiality  the  Tales  of  my  Landlord  for  the 
Quarterly  Review  of  January  1817.'*  In  the  same  article 
are  contained  other  illustrations  of  the  Novels,  with  which 
I  supplied  my  accomplished  friend,  who  took  the  trouble 
to  write  the  review.     The  reader  who  is  desirous  of  such 

*  Lord  Kinedder  died  in  Augrist  1822,    Eheu  1  (Aug.  1831.) 


320  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

iuformation  will  find  the  original  of  Meg  Merrilies,  and  I 
believe  of  one  or  two  other  personages  of  the  same  cast  of 
character,  in  the  article  referred  to. 

1  may  also  mention,  that  the  tragic  and  savage  circum- 
stances which  are  represented  as  preceding  the  birth  of 
Allan  M'Aulay,  in  The  Legend  of  31ontrose,  really  happened 
in  the  family  of  Stewart  of  Ardvoirlich.  The  wager  about 
the  candlesticks,  whose  place  was  supplied  by  Highland 
torch-bearers,  was  laid  and  won  by  one  of  the  MacDonalds 
of  Keppoch. 

There  can  be  but  little  amusement  in  winnowing  out  the 
few  grains  of  truth  which  are  contained  in  this  mass  of 
empty  fiction.  I  may,  however,  before  dismissing  the  sub- 
ject, allude  to  the  various  localities  which  have  been  aflfixed 
to  some  of  the  scenery  introduced  into  these  novels,  by 
which,  for  example.  Wolf's  Hope  is  identified  with  Fast 
Castle  in  Berwickshire,  Tillietudlem  with  Draphane  in 
Clydesdale,  and  the  valley  in  The  Monastery,  called  Glen- 
dearg,  with  the  dale  of  the  river  Allan,  above  Lord  Somer- 
ville's,  villa,  near  Melrose.  I  can  only  say  that,  in  these  and 
other  instances,  I  had  no  purpose  of  describing  any  partic- 
ular local  spot ;  and  the  resemblance  must  therefore  be  of 
that  general  kind  which  necessarily  exists  between  scenes  of 
the  same  character.  The  iron-bound  coast  of  Scotland  af- 
fords upon  its  headlands  and  promontories  fifty  such  castles 
as  Wolf's  Hope  ;  every  county  has  a  valley  more  or  less  re- 
sembling Glendearg  ;  and  if  castles  like  Tillietudlem,  or 
mansions  like  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine's,  are  now  less  fre- 
quently to  be  met  with,  it  is  owing  to  the  rage  of  indiscrimi- 
nate destruction,  which  has  removed  or  ruined  so  many 
monuments  of  antiquity,  when  they  were  not  protected  by 
their  inaccessible  situation.* 

The  scraps  of  poetry  which  have  been  in  most  cases  tacked 
to  the  beginning  of  chapters  in  these  novels  are  sometimes 
quoted  either  from  reading  or  from  memory,  but,  in  the 
general  case,  are  pure  invention.  I  found  it  too  trouble- 
some to  turn  to  the  collection  of  the  British  poets  to  dis- 
cover apposite  mottoes,  and,  in  the  situation  of  the  theatrical 
mechanist,  who,  when  the  white  paper  which  represented 
his  shower  of  snow  was  exhausted,  continued  the  storm  by 
snowing  brown,  I  drew  on  my  memory  as  long  as  I  could, 

*  I  would  particularly  intimate  the  Kaim  of  Urie,  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  Scotland,  as  having  suggested  an  idea  for  the  tower  called 
Wolf's  Crag,  which  the  public  more  generally  identified  with  the 
ancient  tower  of  Fast  Castle. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONG ATE  2,21 

and,  when  that  failed,  eked  it  out  with  invention.  I  be- 
lieve that,  in  some  cases,  where  actual  names  are  affixed  to 
the  supposed  quotations,  it  would  be  to  little  purpose  to 
seek  them  in  the  works  of  the  authors  referred  to.  In 
some  cases  I  have  been  entertained  when  Dr.  Watts  and 
other  graver  authors  have  been  ransacked  in  vain  for  stanzas 
for  which  the  novelist  alone  was  responsible. 

And  now  the  reader  may  expect  me,  while  in  the  confes- 
sional, to  explain  the  motives  why  1  have  so  long  persisted  in 
disclaiming  the  works  of  which  I  am  now  writing.  To  this 
it  would  be  difficult  to  give  any  other  reply  save  that  of  Cor- 
poral Nym  :  it  was  the  Author's  humor  or  caprice  for  the 
time.  I  hope  it  will  not  be  construed  into  ingratitude  to  the 
public,  to  whose  indulgence  I  have  owed  my  sangfroid  much 
more  than  to  any  merit  of  my  own,  if  I  confess  that  I  am, 
and  have  been,  more  indifferent  to  success,  or  to  failure,  as 
an  author  than  may  be  the  case  with  others,  who  feel  more 
strongly  the  passion  for  literary  fame,  probably  because  they 
are  justly  conscious  of  a  better  title  to  it.  It  was  not  until 
I  had  attained  the  age  of  thirty  years  that  I  made  any  serious 
attempt  at  distinguishing  myself  as  an  author  ;  and  at  that 
period  men's  hopes,  desires,  and  wishes  have  usually  acquired 
something  of  a  decisive  character,  and  are  not  eagerly  and 
easily  diverted  into  a  new  channel.  When  I  made  the  dis- 
covery— for  to  me  it  was  one — that  by  amusing  myself  with 
composition,  which  I  felt  a  delightful  occupation,  I  could 
also  give  pleasure  to  others,  and  became  aware  that  literary 
pursuits  were  likely  to  engage  in  future  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  my  time,  I  felt  some  alarm  that  I  might  acquire  those 
habits  of  jealousy  and  fretfulness  which  have  lessened,  and 
even  degraded,  the  character  even  of  great  authors,  and  ren- 
dered them,  by  their  petty  squabbles  and  mutual  irritability, 
the  laughing-stock  of  the  people  of  the  world.  I  resolved, 
therefore,  in  this  respect  to  guard  my  breast,  perhaps  an  un- 
friendly critic  may  add,  my  brow,  with  triple  brass,*  and  as 
much  as  possible  to  avoid  resting  my  thoughts  and  wishes 
upon  literary  success,  lest  I  should  endanger  my  own  peace 
of  mind  and  tranquillity  by  literary  failure.  It  would  argue 
either  stupid  apathy  or  ridiculous  affectation  to  say  that  I 
have  been  insensible  to  the  public  applause,  when  I  have 
been  honored  with  its  testimonies  ;  and  still  more  highly  do 
I  prize  the  invaluable  friendships  which  some  temporary 

*  Not  altogether  impossible,  when  it  is  considered  that  I  have 
been  at  the  bar  since  1799.    (Aug.  1831.) 


322  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

popularity  lias  enabled  me  to  form  among  those  of  my  contem- 
poraries  most  distinguished  by  talents  and  genius,  and  which 
I  venture  to  hope  now  rest  upon  a  basis  more  firm  than  the 
circumstances  which  gave  rise  to  them.  Yet  feeling  all 
these  advantages  as  a  man  ouglit  to  do,  and  must  do,  1  may 
say,  with  truth  and  confidence,  that  I  have,  I  think,  tasted 
of  the  intoxicating  cup  with  moderation,  and  that  I  have 
never,  either  in  conversation  or  correspondence,  encouraged 
discussions  respecting  my  own  literary  pursuits.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  have  usually  found  such  topics,  even  when  introduced 
from  motives  most  flattering  to  myself,  rather  embarrassing 
and  disagreeable. 

I  have  now  frankly  told  my  motives  for  concealment, 
so  far  as  I  am  conscious  of  having  any,  and  the  public  will 
forgive  the  egotism  of  the  detail  as  what  is  necessarily  con- 
nected with  it.  The  author,  so  long  and  loudly  called  for, 
has  appeared  on  the  stage  and  made  his  obeisance  to  the 
audience.  Thus  far  his  conduct  is  a  mark  of  respect.  To 
linger  in  their  presence  would  be  intrusion. 

I  have  only  to  repeat  that  I  avow  myself  in  print,  as  for- 
merly  in  words,  the  sole  and  unassisted  author  of  all  the 
novels  published  as  works  of  the  "Author  of  Waverley." 
I  do  this  without  shame,  for  I  am  unconscious  that  there  is 
anything  in  their  composition  Avhich  deserves  reproach,  either 
on  the  score  of  religion  or  morality,  and  without  any  feeling 
of  exultation,  because,  whatever  may  have  been  their  tem- 
porary success,  I  am  well  aware  how  much  their  reputation 
depends  upon  the  caprice  of  fashion  ;  and  I  have  already 
mentioned  the  precarious  tenure  by  which  it  is  held  as  a 
reason  for  displaying  no  great  avidity  in  grasping  at  the 
possession. 

I  ought  to  mention,  before  concluding,  that  twenty  per- 
sons, at  least,  were,  either  from  intimacy  or  from  the  confi- 
dence which  circumstances  rendered  necessary,  participant 
of  this  secret ;  and  as  there  was  no  instance,  to  my  knowledge, 
of  any  one  of  the  number  breaking  faith,  I  am  the  more 
obliged  to  them,  because  the  slight  and  trivial  character  of 
the  mystery  was  not  qualified  to  inspire  much  respect  in 
those  entrusted  with  it.  Nevertheless,  like  Jack  the  Giant- 
Kill  er,  I  was  fully  confident  in  the  advantage  of  my  "  coat 
of  darkness,"  and  liad  it  not  been  from  compulsory  circum- 
stances, I  would  have  indeed  been  very  cautious  how  I  parted 
with  it. 

As  for  the  work  which  follows,  it  was  meditated,  and  in 
part  printed,  long  before  the  avowal  of  the  novels  took  place. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  323 

and  originally  commenced  with  a  declaration  that  it  was 
neither  to  have  introduction  nor  preface  of  any  kind.  This 
long  proem,  prefixed  to  a  work  intended  not  to  have  any, 
may,  however,  serve  to  show  how  human  purposes,  in  the 
most  trifling  as  well  as  the  most  important  affairs,  are  liable 
to  be  conti-olled  by  the  course  of  events.  Thus,  we  begin  to 
cross  a  strong  river  with  our  eyes  and  our  resolution  fixed 
on  that  point  of  the  opposite  shore  on  which  we  purpose  to 
land  ;  but,  gradually  giving  way  to  the  torrent,  are  glad,  by 
the  aid  perhaps  of  branch  or  bush,  to  extricate  ourselves  at 
some  distant,  and  perhaps  dangerous,  landing-place,  much 
farther  down  the  stream  than  that  on  which  we  had  fixed 
our  intentions. 

Hoping  that  the  courteous  reader  will  afford  to  a  known 
and  familiar  acquaintance  some  portion  of  the  favor  w^hich 
he  extended  to  a  disguised  candidate  for  his  applause,  I  beg 
leave  to  subscribe  myself  his  obliged  humble  servant, 

Waltee  Scott. 
Abbotsford,  October  1, 1837. 

Such  was  the  little  narrative  which  I  thought  proper  to 
put  forth  in  October  1827,  nor  have  I  much  to  add  to  it 
now.  About  to  appear  for  the  first  time  in  my  own  name 
in  this  department  of  letters,  it  occurred  to  me  that  some- 
tliing  in  the  shape  of  a  periodical  publication  might  carry 
with  it  a  certain  air  of  novelty,  and  I  was  willing  to  break, 
if  I  may  so  express  it,  the  abruptness  of  my  personal  forth- 
coming by  investing  an  imaginary  coadjutor  with  at  least 
as  much  distinctness  of  individual  existence  as  I  had  ever 
previously  thought  it  worth  while  to  bestov  on  shadows  of  the 
same  convenient  tribe.  Of  course,  it  had  never  been  in  my 
contemplation  to  invite  the  assistance  of  any  real  person  in 
the  sustaining  of  my  quasi-editorial  character  and  labors. 
It  had  long  been  my  opinion  that  anything  like  a  literary 
picnic  is  likely  to  end  in  suggesting  comparisons,  justly 
termed  odious,  and  therefore  to  be  avoided  ;  and,  indeed  I 
had  also  had  some  occasion  to  know  that  promises  of  assist- 
ance, in  efforts  of  that  order,  are  apt  to  be  more  magnifi- 
cent than  the  subsequent  performance.  I  therefore  planned 
a  miscellany,  to  be  independent,  after  the  old  fashion,  on 
my  own  resources  alone,  and  although  conscious  enough 
that  the  moment  which  assigned  to  the  Author  of  Waverley 
"  a  local  habitation  and  a  name  "  had  seriously  endangered 
his  spell,  I  felt  inclined  to  adopt  the  sentiment  of  my  old  hero 
Montrose,  and  to  say  to  myself,  that  in  literature,  as  in  war. 


■iU  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

He  either  fears  his  fate  too  mucb. 

Or  his  deserts  are  small, 
Who  dares  not  put  it  to  the  touch. 

To  win  or  lose  it  all. 

To  the  particulars  explanatory  of  the  plan  of  these  Chroni- 
cles, which  the  reader  is  presented  with  in  chapter  ii.  by  the 
imaginary  editor,  Mr.  Croftangry,  I  have  now  to  add,  that 
the  lady,  termed  in  his  narrative  Mrs.  Bethune  Baliol,  was 
designed  to  shadow  out  in  its  leading  points  the  interesting 
character  of  a  dear  friend  of  mine,  Mrs.  Murray  Keith,* 
whose  death  occurring  shortly  before  had  saddened  a  wide 
circle  much  attached  to  her,  as  well  for  her  genuine  virtue 
and  amiable  qualities  of  disposition  as  for  the  extent  of 
information  which  she  possessed,  and  the  delightful  man- 
ner in  which  she  was  used  to  communicate  it.  In  truth, 
the  Author  had,  on  many  occasions,  been  indebted  to  her 
vivid  memory  for  the  substratum  of  his  Scottish  fictions  ; 
and  she  accordingly  had  been,  from  an  early  period,  at  no 
loss  to  fix  the  Waverley  novels  on  the  right  culprit. 

In  the  sketch  of  Chrystal  Croftangry 's  own  history,  the 
Author  has  been  accused  of  introducing  some  not  polite 
allusions  to  respectable  living  individuals  ;  but  he  may  safely, 
he  presumes,  pass  over  such  an  insinuation.  The  first  of 
the  narratives  whicli  Mr.  Croftangry  proceeds  to  lay  before 
the  public.  The  Highland  Widow,  was  derived  from  Mrs. 
Murray  Keith, f  and  is  given,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
additional  circumstances — the  introduction  of  which  I  am 
rather  inclined  to  regret — very  much  as  the  excellent  old 
lady  used  to  tell  the  story.  Neither  the  Highland  cicerone 
MacTurk  [MacLeish]  nor  the  demure  waiting-woman  were 
drawn  from  imagination  ;  and  on  re-reading  my  tale,  after 
the  lapse  of  a  few  years,  and  comparing  its  effect  with  my 
remembrance  of  my  worthy  friend's  oral  narration,  which 
was  certainly  extremely  affecting,  I  cannot  but  suspect  my- 
self of  having  marred  its  simplicity  by  some  of  those  inter- 
polations which,  at  the  time  when  I  penned  them,  no  doubt 
passed  with  myself  for  embellishments. 

The  next  tale,  entitled  77ie  Two  Drovers,  I  learned  from 
another  old  friend,  the  late  George  Constable,  Esg.,  of 
Wallace  Craigie,  near  Dundee,  whom  I  have  already  mtro- 
duced  to  my  reader  as  the  original  Antiquary  of  Monkbarns. 
He  had  been  present,  I  think,  at  the  trial  at  Carlisle,  and 

*  See  Keiths  of  Craig.    Note  13. 

t  [See  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott,  voL  ix.  pp.  178, 174.1 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  325 

seldom  mentioned  the  venerable  judge's  charge  to  the  jury 
without  shedding  tears,  which  had  peculiar  pathos,  as 
flowing  down  features  carrying  rather  a  sarcastic  or  al- 
most a  cynical  expression. 

This  worthy  gentleman's  reputation  for  shrewd  Scottish 
sense,  knowledge  of  our  national  antiquities,  and  a  racy 
humor  peculiar  to  himself,  must  be  still  remembered.  For 
myself,  I  have  pride  in  recording  that  for  many  years  we 
were,  in  Wordsworth's  language, 

A  pair  of  friends,  though  I  was  young. 
And  "  George"  was  seventy-two. 

w.  s. 

Abbotsford,  Aug.  15, 1831. 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE 

CHAPTER  I 

ME.  CHRYSTAL  CROFTANGRY'S  ACCOUNT  OF  HIMSELF 

Sic  itur  ad  astra. 

*'  This  is  the  path  to  heaven."  Such  is  the  ancient  motto 
attached  to  the  armorial  bearings  of  the  Canongate,  and 
which  is  inscribed,  witii  greater  or  less  propriety,  upon  all 
the  public  buildings,  from  the  church  to  the  pillory,  in  the 
ancient  quarter  of  Edinburgh  which  bears,  or  rather  once 
bore,  the  same  relation  to  the  Good  Town  that  Westminster 
does  to  London,  being  still  possessed  of  the  palace  of  the 
sovereign,  as  it  formerly  was  dignified  by  the  residence  of 
the  principal  nobility  and  gentry.  I  may,  therefore,  with 
some  propriety,  put  the  same  motto  at  the  head  of  the 
literary  undertaking  by  which  I  hope  to  illustrate  the 
hitherto  undistinguished  name  of  Chrystal  Croftangry. 

The  public  may  desire  to  know  something  of  an  author 
who  pitches  at  such  height  his  ambitious  expectations.  The 
gentle  reader,  therefore — for  I  am  much  of  Captain  Bob- 
adil's  humor,  and  could  to  no  other  extend  myself  so  far — 
the  gentle  reader,  then,  will  be  pleased  to  understand,  that 
I  am  a  Scottish  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  with  a  fortune, 
temper,  and  person  rather  the  worse  for  wear.  I  have  known 
the  world  for  these  forty  years,  having  written  myself  man 
nearly  since  that  period,  and  I  do  not  think  it  is  much 
mended.  But  this  is  an  opinion  which  I  keep  to  piyself 
when  I  am  among  younger  folk,  for  I  recollect,  m  my 
youth,  quizzing  the  sexagenarians  who  carried  back  their  ideas 
of  a  perfect  state  of  society  to  the  days  of  laced  coats  and 
triple  ruffles,  and  some  of  them  to  the  blood  and  blows  of 
the  Forty-five.  Therefore  I  am  cautious  in  exercising  the 
right  of  censorship,  which  is  supposed  to  be  acquired  bv 
men  arrived  at,  or  approaching,  the  mysterious  period  of 

327 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


life  wlien  the  numbers  of  seven  and  nine  multiplied  into 
each  other  form  wliat  sages  have  termed  the  grand  cli- 
macteric. 

Of  the  earlier  part  of  my  life  it  is  only  necessary  to  say, 
that  I  swept  the  boards  of  the  Parliament  House  with  tlie 
skirts  of  my  gown  for  the  usual  number  of  years  during 
which  young  lairds  were  in  my  time  expected  to  keep  term, 
got  no  fees,  laughed  and  made  others  laugh.,  drank  claret 
at  Bayle's.  Fortune's,  and  Walker's,  and  eat  oysters  in  the 
Covenant  Close. 

Becoming  my  own  master,  I  flung  my  gown  at  the  nar- 
keeper,  and  commenced  gay  man  on  my  own  account.  In 
Edinburgh,  I  ran  into  all  the  expensive  society  which  the 
place  then  afforded.  When  I  went  to  my  house  in  the  shire 
of  Lanark,  I  emulated  to  the  utmost  the  expenses  of  men  of 
large  fortune,  and  had  my  hunters,  my  first-rate  pointers, 
my  game-cocks,  and  feeders.  I  can  more  easily  forgive  my- 
self for  these  follies  than  for  others  of  a  still  more  blamable 
kind,  so  indifferently  cloaked  over,  that  my  jjoor  mother 
thought  herself  obliged  to  leave  my  habitation,  and  betake 
herself  to  a  small,  inconvenient  jointure-house,  which  she 
occupied  till  her  death.  I  think,  however,  1  was  not  ex- 
clusively to  blame  in  this  separation,  and  I  believe  my 
mother  afterwards  condemned  herself  for  being  too  hasty. 
Thank  God,  the  adversity  which  destroyed  the  means  of 
continuing  my  dissipation  restored  me  to  the  affections  of 
my  surviving  parent  ! 

My  course  of  life  could  not  last.  I  ran  too  fast  to  run 
long ;  and  when  I  would  have  checked  my  career,  I  was 
perhaps  too  near  the  brink  of  the  precipice.  Some  mishapa 
I  prepared  by  my  own  folly,  others  came  upon  me  unawares.  ^'^ 
I  put  my  estate  out  to  nurse  to  a  fat  man  of  business,  who 
smothered  the  babe  he  should  have  brought  back  to  me  in 
health  and  strength,  and,  in  dispute  with  this  honest 
gentleman,  I  found,  like  a  skilful  general,  that  my  position 
would  be  most  judiciously  assumed  by  taking  it  up  near  the 
Abbey  of  Holyrood.*  It  was  then  I  first  became  acquainted 
with  the  quarter,  which  my  little  work  will,  I  hope,  render 
immortal,  and  grew  familiar  with  those  magnificent  wilds, 
through  which  the  kings  of  Scotland  once  chased  the  dark- 
brown  deer,  but  which  were  chiefly  recommended  to  me  in 
those  days  by  their  being  inaccessible  to  those  metaphysical 
persons  whom  the  law  of  the  neighboring  country  terms 


lipa! 

Iffiiy 
Da; 


*  See  Sanctuary  of  Holyrood.    Note  14. 


ik 

b: 
k: 
It; 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  329 

John  Doe  and  Richard  Roe.  In  short,  the  precincts  of  the 
pahice  are  now  best  known  as  being  a  place  of  refuge  at  any 
time  from  all  pursuit  for  civil  debt. 

Dire  was  the  strife  betwixt  my  quondam  doer  and  my- 
self ;  during  which  my  motions  were  circumscribed,  like 
those  of  some  conjured  demon,  within  a  circle,  which,  be- 
ginning "^at  the  northern  gate  of  the  King's  Park,  thence 
running  northward,  is  bounded  on  the  left  by  the  king's 
garden-wall,  and  the  gutter,  or  kennel,  in  a  line  wherewith 
it  crosses  the  High  Street  to  the  Water-gate,  and  passing 
through  the  same,  is  bounded  by  the  walls  of  the  tennis- 
court  and  physic-garden,  etc.  It  then  follows  the  wall  of 
the  churchyard,  joins  the  northwest  wall  of  St.  Ann's  yards, 
and  going  east  to  the  clack  mill-house,  turns  southward  to 
the  turnstile  in  the  king's  park-wall,  and  includes  the  whole 
King's  Park  within  the  sanctuary." 

These  limits, which  I  abridge  from  the  accurate  Maitland, 
once  marked  the  girth,  or  asylum,  belonging  to  the  Abbey 
of  Holyrood,  and  which,  being  still  an  appendage  to  the 
royal  palace,  has  retained  the  privilege  of  an  asylum  for 
civil  debt.  One  would  think  the  space  sufficiently  extensive 
for  a  man  to  stretch  his  limbs  in,  as,  besides  a  reasonable 
proportion  of  level  ground,  considering  that  the  scene  lies 
in  Scotland,  it  includes  within  its  precincts  the  mountain 
of  Arthur's  Seat,  and  the  rocks  and  pasture  land  called  Salis- 
bury Crags.  But  yet  it  is  inexpressible  how,  after  a  certain 
time  had  elapsed,  I  used  to  long  for  Sunday,  which  per- 
mitted me  to  extend  my  walk  without  limitation.  During 
the  other  six  days  of  the  week  I  felt  a  sickness  of  heart 
which,  but  for  the  speedy  approach  of  the  hebdomadal  day 
of  liberty,  I  could  hardly  have  endured.  I  experienced  the 
impatience  of  a  mastiff,  who  tugs  in  vain  to  extend  the 
limits  which  his  chain  permits. 

Day  after  day  I  walked  by  the  side  of  the  kennel  which 
divides  the  sanctuary  from  the  unprivileged  part  of  the 
Canongate  ;  and  though  the  month  was  July,  and  the  scene 
the  old  town  of  Edinburgh,  I  jjreferred  it  to  the  fresh  air 
and  verdant  turf  which  I  might  have  enjoyed  in  the  King's 
Park,  or  to  tlae  cool  and  solemn  gloom  of  the  portico  which 
surrounds  the  palace.  To  an  indifferent  person  either  side 
of  the  gutter  wonld  have  seemed  much  the  same — the  houses 
equally  mean,  the  children  as  ragged  and  dirty,  the  carmen 
as  brutal,  the  whole  forming  the  same  picture  of  low  life  in 
a  deserted  and  impoverished  quarter  of  a  large  city.  But 
to  me  the  gutter;,  or  kennel,  was  what  the  brook  Kidron  was 


330  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  Shimei :  death  was  denounced  against  him  should  he 
cross  it,  doubtless  because  it  was  known  to  his  wisdom  who 
pronounced  the  doom,  that,  from  the  time  the  crossing  the 
stream  was  debarred,  the  devoted  man's  desire  to  transgress 
the  precept  would  become  irresistible,  and  be  would  be  sure 
to  draw  down  on  his  head  the  penalty  wbich  he  had  already 
justly  incurred  by  cursing  the  anointed  of  God.  For  my 
part,  all  Elysium  seemed  opening  on  tbe  otber  side  of  the 
kennel,  and  I  envied  the  little  blackguards  who,  stopping 
the  current  with  their  little  dam-dikes  of  mud,  had  a  right 
to  stand  on  either  side  of  the  nasty  puddle  wbich  best  pleased 
them.  I  was  so  childish  as  even  to  make  an  occasional  ex- 
cursion across,  were  it  only  for  a  few  yards,  and  felt  the 
triumph  of  a  schoolboy,  who,  trespassing  in  an  orchard, 
hurries  back  again  with  a  fluttering  sensation  of  joy  and 
terror,  betwixt  the  pleasure  of  having  executed  his  purpose 
and  the  fear  of  being  taken  or  discovered. 

I  bave  sometimes  asked  myself,  wbat  I  should  have  done 
in  case  of  actual  imprisonment,  since  I  could  not  bear  with- 
out impatience  a  restriction  wbich  is  comparatively  a  mere 
trifle  ;  but  I  really  could  never  answer  tbe  question  to  my 
own  satisfaction.  I  have  all  my  life  hated  tbose  treacherous 
expedients  called  mezzo  termini,  and  it  is  possible  with  this 
disposition  I  might  have  endured  more  patiently  an  abso- 
lute privation  of  liberty  than  the  more  modified  restrictions 
to  which  my  residence  in  the  sanctuary  at  this  period  sub- 
jected me.  If,  however,  the  feelings  I  then  experienced 
were  to  increase  in  intensity  according  to  the  difference  be 
tween  a  jail  and  my  actual  condition.  I  must  have  hangec 
myself,  or  pined  to  death  ;  there  could  have  been  no  other 
alternative. 

Amongst  many  companions  who  forgot  and  neglected  me 
of  course,  when  my  difficulties  seemed  to  be  inextricable,  I 
had  one  true  friend  ;  and  that  friend  was  a  barrister,  who 
knew  the  laws  of  his  country  well,  and,  tracing  them  up  to 
the  spirit  of  equity  and  justice  in  which  they  originate,  had 
repeatedly  prevented,  by  his  benevolent  and  manly  exer- 
tions, the  triumphs  of  selfish  cunning  over  simplicity  and 
folly.  He  undertook  my  cause,  with  the  assistance  of  a 
solicitor  of  a  character  similar  to  his  own.  My  quondam 
doer  had  ensconced  himself  chin-deep  among  legal  trenches, 
hornworks,  and  covered  ways  ;  but  my  two  protectors  sliclled 
him  out  of  his  defenses,  and  I  Avas  at  length  a  free  man,  at 
liberty  to  go  or  stay  wheresoever  my  mind  listed. 

I  left  my  lodgings  as  hastily  as  if  it  had  been  a  pest-house; 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CAN  ON  GATE  S^M 

I  did  not  even  stop  to  receive  some  clumge  that  was  due  to 
me  on  settling  with  my  hindladj,  and  I  saw  the  poor  wo- 
man stand  at  her  door  looking  after  my  precipitate  flight, 
and  shaking  her  head  as  she  wrapped  the  silver  which  she 
was  counting  for  me  in  a  separate  piece  of  paper,  apart  from 
the  store  in  her  own  moleskin  purse.  An  honest  High- 
landwoman  was  Janet  MacEvoy,  and  deserved  a  greater 
remnneration,  had  I  possessed  the  power  of  bestowing  it. 
But  my  eagerness  of  delight  was  too  extreme  to  pause  for 
explanation  with  Janet.  On  I  pushed  through  the  groups 
of  cliildren,  of  whose  sports  I  had  been  so  often  a  lazy  loung- 
ing spectator.  I  sprung  over  the  gutter  as  if  it  had  been  the 
fatal  Styx,  and  I  a  ghost,  which,  eluding  Pluto's  authority, 
v/as  making  its  escape  from  Limbo  Lake.  My  friend  had 
dilliculty  to  restrain  me  from  running  like  a  madman  up  the 
street ;  and  in  spite  of  his  kindness  and  hospitality,  which 
i soothed  me  for  a  day  or  two,  I  was  not  quite  happy  until  I 
i  found  myself  aboard  of  a  Leith  smack,  and,  standing  down 
ithe  firth  with  a  fair  wind,  might  snap  my  fingers  at  the 
I  retreating  outline  of  Arthur's  Seat,  to  the  vicinity  of  which 
'  I  had  been  so  long  confined. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  trace  my  future  progress  through 

life.     I  had  extricated  myself,  or  rather  had  been  freed  by 

my  friends,  from  the  brambles  and  thickets  of  the  law,  but, 

I  as  befell  the  sheep  in  the  fable,  a  great  part  of  my  fleece  was 

I  left  behind  me.     Something  remained,  however  :  I  was  in 

!  the  season  for  exertion,  and,  as  my  good  mother  used  to  say, 

!  there  was  always  life  for  living  folk.     Stern  necessity  gave 

my  manhood  that  prudence  which  my  youth  was  a  stranger 

to'.     I   faced   danger,  I  endured   fatigue,  I  sought  foreign 

climates,  and  proved  that  I  belonged  to  the  nation  which  is 

proverbially  patient  of  labor  and  prodigal  of   life.     Lide- 

pendence,  like  liberty  to  Virgil's   shepherd,  came  late,  but 

j  came  at  last,  with  no  great  affluence  in  its  train,  but  bring- 

;  ing  enough  to  support  a  decent  appearance  for  the  rest  of 

my  life,  and  to  induce  cousins  to  be  civil,  and  gossips  to  say, 

"I  wonder  who  old  Croft  will  make   his   heir  ?     He  must 

j  have  picked  up  something,  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if 

i  it  prove  more  than  folk  think  of." 

!      My  first  impulse  when  I  returned  home  was  to  rush  to  the 
house  of  my  benefactor,  the  oi\ly  man  who  had  in  my  dis- 
i  tress  interested  himself  in  my  behalf.     He  was  a  snuff-taker, 
and  it  had  been  the  pride  of  my  heart  to  save  the  ipsa  cor- 
pora of  the  first  score  of  guineas  I  could  hoard,  and  to  have 
:  them  converted  into  as  tasteful  a  snuff-box  as  Rundell  and 


WA VERLEY  NOVELS 


Bridge  could  devise.  This  I  had  thrust  for  security  into 
the  breast  of  ray  waistcoat,  while,  impatient  to  transfer  it  to 
the  person  for  whom  it  was  destined,  I  liastened  to  his  house  jki 
in  Brown's  Square.  When  the  front  of  the  house  became 
visible,  a  feeling  of  alarm  checked  me.  I  had  been  long 
absent  from  Scotland,  my  friend  was  some  years  older  than 
I ;  he  might  have  been  called  to  the  congregation  of  the 
just.  I  jjaused,  and  gazed  on  the  house,  as  if  I  had  hoped  » 
to  form  some  conjecture  from  the  outward  appearance  con-  rh 
cerning  the  state  of  the  family  within.  I  know  not  how  it 
was,  but  the  lower  windows  being  all  closed  and  no  one 
stirring,  my  sinister  forebodings  were  rather  strengthened. 
I  regretted  now  that  I  had  not  made  inquiry  before  I  left 
the  inn  where  I  alighted  from  the  mail-coach.  But  it  was 
too  late  ;  so  I  hurried  on,  eager  to  know  the  best  or  the 
worst  which  I  could  learn. 

The  brass-plate  bearing  my  friend's  name  and  designation 
was  still  on  the  door,  and,  when  it  was  opened,  the  old  do- 
mestic appeared  a  good  deal  older,  I  thought,  tlian  he  ought 
naturally  to  have  looked,  considering  the  period  of  my  ab- 
sence, ^'^Is  Mr.  Sommerville  at  home?''  said  I  pressing 
forward. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  John,  placing  himself  in  opposition  to 
my  entrance,  "  he  is  at  hoiue,  but " 

^'  But  he  is  not  in,"  said  I.  "  I  remember  your  phrase  of 
old,  John.  Come,  I  will  step  into  his  room,  and  leave  a  line 
for  him." 

John  was  obviously  embarrassed  by  my  familiarity.  I  was 
some  one,  he  saw,  whom  he  ought  to  recollect,  at  the  same 
it  was  evident  he  remembered  nothing  about  me. 

"  Ay,  sir,  my  master  is  in,  and  in  his  own  room,  but '* 

I  would  not  hear  him  out,  but  passed  before  him  towards 
the  well-known  apartment. 

A  young  lady  came  out  of  the  room  a  little  disturbed,  as 
it  seemed,  and  said,  "John,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  A  gentleman.  Miss  Xelly,  that  insists  on  seeing  my 
master." 

"Avery  old  and  deeply  indebted  friend,"  said  I,  ''that 
ventures  to  press  myself  on  my  much-respected  benefactor 
on  my  return  from  abroad." 

''Alas,  sir,"  replied  she,  "my  uncle  would  be  happy  to 
see  you,  but " 

At  this  moment,  something  was  heard  witliin  the  apart- 
ment like  the  falling  of  a  plate,  or  glass,  and  immediately 
after  my  friend's   voice  called  angrily  and  eagerly  for  his 


kk 

Ti 
U 
ipa 
ki 


It 
h 

1 
i'.z 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  333 

liece.  She  entered  the  room  hastily,  and  so  did  1.  But  it 
,vas  to  see  a  spectacle  compared  with  which  that  of  my  bene- 
'actor  stretched  on  his  bier  would  have  been  a  happy  one. 
mi  The  easy-chair  filled  with  cushions,  the  extended  limb,'- 
i')ii! Iswathed  in  flannel,  the  wide  wrapping-gown  and  nightcap, 
showed  illness  ;  but  the  dimmed  eye,  once  so  replete  with 
living  fire  ;  the  blabber  lip,  whose  dilation  and  compression 
ised  to  give  such  character  to  his  animated  countenance  ; 
:he  stammering  tongue,  that  once  poured  forth  such  floods 
)f  masculine  eloquence,  and  had  often  swayed  the  opinion  of 
;lie  sages  whom  he  addressed — all  these  sad  symptoms  evinced 
;hat  my  friend  was  in  the  melancholy  condition  of  those  in 
ivhom  the  principle  of  animal  life  has  unfortunately  sur- 
^•ived  that  of  mental  intelligence.  He  gazed  a  moment  at 
ne,  but  then  seemed  insensible  of  my  presence,  and  went 
)n — he,  once  the  most  courteous  and  well  bred — to  babble 
Luiintelligible  but  violent  reproaches  against  his  niece  and 
servant,  because  he  himself  had  dropped  a  tea-cup  in 
attempting  to  place  it  on  a  table  at  his  elbow.  His  eyes 
3aught  a  momentary  fire  from  his  irritation  ;  but  he  strug- 
gled in  vain  for  words  to  express  himself  adequately,  as, 
looking  from  his  servant  to  his  niece,  and  then  to  the  table, 
be  labored  to  explain  that  they  had  placed  it,  though  it 
touched  his  chair,  at  too  great  a  distance  from  him. 

The  young  person,  who  had  naturally  a  resigned, 
Madonna-like  expression  of  countenance,  listened  to  his 
impatient  chiding  with  the  most  humble  submission, 
checked  the  servant,  whose  less  delicate  feelings  would 
have  entered  on  his  justification,  and  gradually,  by  the 
5weet  and  soft  tone  of  her  voice,  soothed  to  rest  the  spirit 
-   of  causeless  irritation. 

She  then  cast  a  look  towards  me,  which  expressed,  ''  You 
see  all  that  remains  of  him  whom  you  call  friend."  It 
seemed  also  to  say,  "  Your  longer  presence  here  can  only  be 
distressing  to  us  all." 

"  Forgive  me,  young  lady,'*  I  said,  as  well  as  tears  would 
permit ;  "  I  am  a  person  deeply  obliged  to  your  uncle.  My 
name  is  Croftangry.'' 

"  Lord  !  and  that  I  should  not  hae  minded  ye,  Maister 
Croftangry/'  said  the  servant.  "Ay,  I  mind  my  master 
had  muckle  fash  about  your  job.  I  hae  lieard  him  order  in 
fresh  candles  as  midnight  chappit,  and  till't  again.  Indeed, 
ye  had  aye  his  gude  word,  Mr.  Croftangry,  for  a'  that  folks 
said  about  you.'' 
"Hold  your  tongue,  John,"  said  the  lady,   somewhat 


334  WA  VSBLEY  NO VEL8 

angrily  ;  and  then  continued,  addressing  herself  to  me,  "  I 

am  sure,  sir,  you  must  be  sorry  to  see  my  uncle  in  this 
state.  I  know  you  are  his  friend.  I  have  heard  him  men- 
tion your  name,  and  wonder  he  never  heard  from  you."  A 
new  cut  this,  and  it  went  to  my  heart.     But  she  continued, 

"'  I  really  do  not  know  if  it  is  right  that  any  should If 

my  uncle  should  know  you,  which  I  scarce  think  possible, 
he  would  be  much  affected,  and  the  doctor  says  that  any 

agitation But  here  comes   Dr.  to  give  his  own 

opinion." 

Dr. entered.     I  had  left  him  a  middle-aged  man ; 

he  was  now  an  elderly  one,  but  still  the  same  benevolent 
Samaritan,  who  went  about  doing  good,  and  thought  the 
blessings  of  the  poor  as  good  a  recompense  of  his  profes- 
sional skill  as  the  gold  of  the  rich. 

He  looked  at  me  with  surprise,  but  the  young  lady  said  a 
word  of  introduction,  and  I,  who  was  known  to  the  doctor 
formerly,  hastened  to  complete  it.  He  recollected  me  per- 
fectly, and  intimated  that  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
reasons  I  had  for  being  deeply  interested  in  the  fate  of  his 
patient.  He  gave  me  a  very  melancholy  account  of  my  poor 
friend,  drawing  me  for  that  purpose  a  little  apart  from  the 
lady.  "  The  light  of  life,"  he  said,  "  was  trembling  in  the 
socket ;  he  scarcely  expected  it  would  ever  leap  up  even 
into  a  momentary  flash,  but  more  was  impossible."  He 
then  stepped  towards  his  patient,  and  put  some  questions, 
to  which  the  poor  invalid,  though  he  seemed  to  recognize 
the  friendly  and  familiar  voice,  answered  only  in  a  faltering, 
and  uncertain  manner. 

The  young  lady,  in  her  turn,  had  drawn  back  when  the_ 
doctor  approached  his  patient.  "  You  see  how  it  is  with 
him,"  said  the  doctor,  addressing  me  ;  "  I  have  heard  our 
poor  friend,  in  one  of  tlie  most  eloquent  of  his  pleadings 
give  a  description  of  this  very  disease,  which  he  compared 
to  the  tortures  inflicted  by  Mezentius,  when  he  chained  the 
dead  to  the  living.  '  The  soul,'  he  said,  *  is  imprisoned  in 
its  dungeon  of  flesh,  and,  though  retaining  its  natural  and 
unalienable  properties,  can  no  more  exert  them  than  the 
captive  inclosed  within  a  prison-house  can  act  as  a  free 
agent.'  Alas  !  to  see  Jiim,  who  could  so  well  describe 
what  this  malady  was  in  others,  a  prey  himself  to  its  in- 
firmities !  I  shall  never  forget  the  solemn  tone  of  expres- 
sion with  which  he  summed  up  the  incapacities  of  the 
paralytic — the  deafened  ear,  the  dimmed  eye,  th©  crippled 
limbs — in  the  noble  words  of  Juvenal : 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANON  GATE  335 

Omni 
Membrorum  darano,  major  dementia,  quae  nee 
Nomina  servorum  nee  vultum  agnoscit  amiei." 

As  the  physician  repeated  these  lines,  a  flash  of  intelli- 
gence seemed  to  revive  in  the  invalid's  eye — sunk  again — 
again  struggled,  and  he  spoke  more  intelligibly  than  before, 
and  in  the  tone  of  one  eager  to  say  something  which  he  felt 
would  escape  him  unless  said  instantly.  "  A  question  of 
death-bed — a  question  of  death-bed,  doctor — a  reduction  ex 
capite  lecti —  Withering  against  Wilibus — about  the  mor- 
bus sonticus.  I  pleaded  the  cause  for  the  pursuer — I,  and 
— and — why,  I  shall  forget  my  own  name — I,  and — ho  that 
was  the  wittiest  and  the  best-humored  man  living " 

The  description  enabled  the  doctor  to  fill  up  the  blank, 
and  the  patient  joyfully  repeated  the  name  suggested.     *'  Ay 

— ay,"  he    said,  "just  he — Harry — poor  Harry "      The 

light  in  his  eye  died  away,  and  he  sunk  back  in  his  easy- 
chair. 

"  You  have  now  seen  more  of  our  poor  friend,  Mr.  Croft- 
angry,"  said  the  physician,  "  than  I  dared  venture  to  promise 
you  ;  and  now  I  must  take  my  professional  authority  on  me, 
and  ask  you  to  retire.  Miss  Sommerville  will,  1  am  sure,  let 
you  know  if  a  moment  should  by  any  chance  occur  when  her 
uncle  can  see  you." 

What  could  I  do  ?  I  gave  my  card  to  the  young  lady,  and, 
taking  my  offering  from  my  bosom — "If  my  poor  friend,"  I 
said,  with  accents  as  broken  almost  as  his  own,  "  should  ask 
where  this  came  from,  name  me ;  and  say  from  the  most 
obliged  and  most  grateful  man  alive.  Say,  the  gold  of  which 
it  is  composed  was  saved  by  grains  at  a  time,  and  was  hoarded 
with  as  much  avarice  as  ever  was  a  miser's.  To  bring  it  liere 
I  have  come  a  thousand  miles,  and  now,  alas,  I  find  him 
thus!" 

I  laid  the  box  on  the  table,  and  was  retiring  with  a  linger- 
J["j[,  ing  step.  The  eye  of  the  invalid  was  caught  by  it,  as  that  of 
a  child  by  a  glittering  toy,  and  with  infantine  impatience  he 
faltered  out  inquiries  of  his  niece.  With  gentle  mildness  she 
repeated  again  and  again  who  I  was,  and  why  I  came,  etc. 
i  was  about  to  turn  and  hasten  from  a  scene  so  painful,  when 
the  physician  laid  his  hand  on  my  sleeve.  "  Stop,"  he  said, 
"there  is  a  change." 

There  was,  indeed,  and  a  marked  one.  A  faint  glow  spread 
over  his  pallid  features — they  seemed  to  gain  the  look  of  in- 
telligence which  belongs  to  vitality — his  eye  once  more  kin- 
dled, his  lip  colored,  and,  drawing  himself  up  out  of  the 


336  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

listless  posture  he  had  hitherto  maintained,  he  rose  without 
assistance.  The  doctor  and  the  servant  ran  to  give  him  their 
support.  He  waved  them  aside,  and  they  were  contented  to 
place  themselves  in  such  a  position  behind  as  might  ensure 
against  accident,  should  his  newly-acquired  strength  decay 
as  suddenly  as  it  had  revived. 

"  My  dear  Croftangry/'  he  said,  in  the  tone  of  kindness  of 
other  days,   "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  returned.     You  find  me 

but  poorly  ;  but  my  little  niece  here  and  Dr. are  very 

kind.  God  bless  you,  my  dear  friend  !  we  shall  not  meet 
again  till  we  meet  in  a  better  world." 

I  pressed  his  extended  hand  to  my  lips,  I  pressed  it  to  my 
bosom,  I  would  fain  have  flung  myself  on  my  knees  ;  but  the 
doctor,  leaving  the  patient  to  the  young  lady  and  the  servant, 
who  wheeled  forward  his  chair,  and  were  replacing  him  in  it, 
hurried  me  out  of  the  room.     "  My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  ''you 
ought  to  be  satisfied  ;  you  have  seen  our  poor  invalid  more 
like  his  former  self  than  he  has  been  for  months,  or  than  he 
may  be  perhaps  again  until  all  is  over.     The  whole  faculty  Irea 
could  not  have  assured  such  an  interval ;  I  must  see  whether  lire 
anything  can  be  derived  from  it  to  improve  the  general  health,  i  w 
Pray,  begone."     The  last  argument  hurried  me  from  the    i 
spot,  agitated  by  a  crowd  of  feelings,  all  of  them  painful. 

When  I  had  overcome  the  shock  of  this  great  disappoint-    i 
ment,  I  renewed  gradually  my  acquaintance  with  one  or  two    ' 
old  companions,  who,  though  of  infinitely  less  interest  to  my 
feelings  than  my  unfortunate  friend,  served  to  relieve  the 
pressure  of  actual  solitude,  and  who  were  not  perhaps  the  less  ^  ;,, 
open  to  my  advances, that  I  was  a  bachelor  somewhat  stricken 
in  years,  newly  arrived  from  foreign  parts,  and  certainly  in- 
dependent, if  not  wealthy. 

I  was  considered  as  a  tolerable  subject  of  speculation  by 
some,  and  I  could  not  be  burdensome  to  any  ;  I  was,  there- 
fore, according  to  the  ordinary  rule  of  Edinburgh  hospitality 
a  welcome  guest  in  several  respectable  families  ;  but  I  found 
no  one  who  could  replace  the  loss  I  had  sustained  in  my  beet 
friend  and  benefactor.  I  wanted  something  more  than  mere 
companionship  could  give  me,  and  where  was  I  to  look  for 
it  ?  Among  the  scattered  remnants  of  those  that  had  been 
my  gay  friends  of  yore  ?    Alas, 


Many  a  lad  I  loved  was  dead, 
And  many  a  lass  grown  old. 

Besides,  all  community  of  ties  between  us  had  ceased  to  exist, 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  337 


and  such  of  former  friends  as  were  still  in  the  world  held 
their  life  in  a  different  tenor  from  what  I  did. 

Some  had  become  misers,  and  were  as  eager  in  saving  six- 
pence as  ever  they  had  been  in  spending  a  guinea.  Some  had 
turned  agriculturists  :  their  talk  was  of  oxen,  and  they  were 
only  fit  companions  for  graziers.  Some  stuck  to  cards^  and 
though  no  longer  deep  gamblers,  rather  played  small  game 
than  sat  out.  This  I  particularly  despised.  The  strong  im- 
pulse of  gaming,  alas  !  I  had  felt  in  my  time  ;  it  is  as  intense 
as  it  is  criminal,  but  it  produces  excitation  and  interest,  and 
I  can  conceive  how  it  should  become  a  passion  with  strong 
and  powerful  minds.  But  to  dribble  away  life  in  exchanging 
bits  of  painted  pasteboard  round  a  green  table,  for  the  pid- 
dling concern  of  a  few  shillings,  can  only  be  excused  in  folly 
or  superannuation.  It  is  like  riding  on  a  rocking-horse, 
where  your  utmost  exertion  never  carries  you  a  foot  forward  ; 
it  is  a  kind  of  mental  treadmill,  where  you  are  perpetually 
climbing,  but  can  never  rise  an  inch.  From  these  hints,  my 
readers  will  perceive  I  am  incapacitated  for  one  of  the  pleas- 
letlij  ures  of  old  age,  which,  though  not  mentioned  by  Cicero,  is 
ealti  not  the  least  frequent  resource  in  the  present  day — the  club- 
room  and  the  snug  hand  at  whist. 

To  return  to  my  old  companions.  Some  frequented 
poiii  public  assemblies,  like  the  ghost  of  Beau  Nash,  or  any  other 
beau  of  half  a  century  back,  thrust  aside  by  tittering  youth, 
and  pitied  by  those  of  their  own  age.  In  fine,  some  went 
into  devotion,  as  the  French  term  it,  and  others,  I  fear,  went 
to  the  devil  ;  a  few  found  resources  in  science  and  letters  ; 
one  or  two  turned  philosophers  in  a  small  way,  peeped  into 
miscroscopes,  and  became  familiar  with  the  fashionable 
experiments  of  the  day.  Some  took  to  reading,  and  I  was 
one  of  them. 

Some  grains  of  repulsion  towards  the  society  around  me, 
"^  some  painful  recollections  of  early  faults  and  follies,  some 
touch  of  displeasure  with  living  minkind,  inclined  me  rather 
to  a  study  of  antiquities,  and  particularly  those  of  my 
own  country.  The  reader,  if  I  can  prevail  on  myself  to 
continue  the  present  work,  will  probably  be  able  to  judge, 
in  the  course  of  it,  whether  I  have  made  any  useful  progress 
in  the  study  of  the  olden  times. 

I  owed  this  turn  of  study,  in  part,  to  the  conversation  of 
my  kind  man  of  business,  Mr.  Fairscribe,  whom  I  mentioned 
as^having  seconded  the  efforts  of  my  invaluable  friend,  in 
bringing  the  cause  on  which  my  liberty  and  the  remnant  of 
my  property   depended   to  a  favorable  decision.     He  had 


338  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

given  me  a  most  kind  reception  on  my  return.  He  was  too 
much  engaged  in  his  profession  for  me  to  intrude  on  him 
often,  and  perhaps  his  mind  was  too  much  trammeled  with 
its  details  to  permit  his  being  willingly  withdrawn  from 
them.  In  short,  he  was  not  a  jDersou  of  my  poor  friend 
Sommerville's  expanded  spirit,  and  rather  a  lawyer  of  the 
ordinary  class  of  formalists,  but  a  most  able  and  excellent 
man.  When  my  estate  was  sold,  he  retained  some  of  the 
older  title-deeds,  arguing,  from  his  own  feelings,  that  they 
would  be  of  more  consequence  to  the  heir  of  the  old  family 
than  to  the  new  purchaser.  And  when  I  returned  to  Edin- 
burgh, and  found  him  still  in  the  exercise  of  the  profession 
to  which  he  was  an  honor,  he  sent  to  my  lodgings  the  old 
family  Bible,  which  lay  always  on  my  father's  table,  two  or 
three  other  moldy  volumes,  and  a  couple  of  sheepskin  bags, 
full  of  parchments  and  papers,  whose  appearance  was  by  no 
means  inviting. 

The  next  time  I  shared  Mr.  Fairscribe's  hospitable  dinner, 
I  failed  not  to  return  him  due  thanks  for  his  kindness,  which 
acknowledgment,  indeed,  I  proportioned  rather  to  the  idea 
which  I  knew  he  entertained  of  the  value  of  such  things 
than  to  the  interest  with  which  I  myself  regarded  them. 
But  the  conversation  turning  on  my  family  who  were  old 
proprietors  in  the  Upper  Ward  of  Clydesdale,  gradually 
excited  some  interest  in  my  mind  ;  and  when  I  retired  to 
my  solitary  parlor,  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  look  for  a 
pedigree,  or  sort  of  history  of  the  family,  or  house  of  Crof- 
tungry,  once  of  that  Ilk,  latterly  of  Olentanner.  The 
discoveries  which  I  made  shall  enrich  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  II 

IN    WHICH    MR.   CROFTANGRY    CONTINUES    HIS    STORY 

What's  property,  dear  Swift?    I  see  it  alter 
From  you  to  me,  from  me  to  Peter  Walter. 

Pope. 

*'  Croftangry — Croftandrew — Croftanridge — Croftangrey 
— for  sa  mony  wise  hath  the  name  been  spellit — is  weel 
known  to  be  ane  house  of  grit  antiquity;  and  it  is  said  that 
King  Milcolumb,  or  Malcolm,  being  thelirst  of  our  Scottish 
princes  quha  removit  across  the  Firth  of  Forth,  did  reside 
and  occupy  ane  palace  at  Edinburgh,  and  had  there  ane 
valziant  man,  who  did  him  man-service,  by  ?;eeping  the 
croft,  or  corn-land,  which  was  tilled  for  the  convenience  of 
the  King's  household,  and  was  thence  callit  Croft-an-ri,  that 
is  to  say,  the  King  his  croft  ;  quhilk  place,  though  now 
coverit  with  biggings,  is  to  this  day  called  Croftangry,  and 
lyeth  near  to  the  royal  palace.  And  whereas  that  some  of 
those  who  bear  this  auld  and  honorable  name  may  take  scorn 
that  it  ariseth  from  the  tilling  of  the  ground,  quhilk  men 
account  a  slavish  occupation,  yet  we  ought  to  honor  the 
pleugh  and  spade,  seeing  we  all  derive  our  being  from  our 
father  Adam,  whose  lot  it  became  to  cultivate  the  earth,  in 
respect  of  his  fall  and  transgression. 

"  Also  we  have  witness,  as  weel  in  holy  writtas  in  profane 
history,  of  the  honor  in  quhilk  husbandrie  was  held  of  old, 
and  how  prophets  have  been  taken  from  the  pleugh,  and 
great  captains  raised  up  to  defend  their  ain  countries,  sic  as 
Cincinnatus,  and  the  like,  who  fought  not  the  common 
enemy  with  the  less  valiancy  that  their  arms  had  been  exer- 
cised in  balding  the  stilts  of  the  pleugh,  and  their  bellicose 
skill  in  driving  of  yauds  and  owsen. 

"  Likewise  there  are  sindry  honorable  families,  qnhilk  are 
now  of  our  native  Scottish  nobility,  and  have  clombe  higher 
up  the  brae  of  preferment  than  what  this  house  of  Croftan- 
gry hath  done,  quhilk  shame  not  to  carry  in  their  warlike 
shield  and  insignia  of  dignity  the  tools  and  implements  the 
quhilk  their  first  forefathers  exercised  in  laboring  the  croft- 
rig,  or,  as  the  poet  Virgilius  calleth  it  eloquently,  in  subdu- 


340  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

ing  the  soil.  And  no  doubt  this  ancient  house  of  Croftan- 
gry,  while  it  continued  to  be  called  of  that  Ilk,  produced 
many  worshipful  and  famous  patriots,  of  quhoni  I  now 
pretermit  the  names  ;  it  being  my  purpose,  if  God  shall 
spare  me  life  for  sic  ane  pious  officium,  or  duty,  to  resume 
the  first  part  of  my  narrative  toucliing  the  house  of  Croftan- 
gry,  when  I  can  set  down  at  length  the  evidents  and  his- 
torical witness  anent  the  facts  which  I  shall  allege,  seeing 
that  words,  when  they  are  unsupported  by  proofs,  are  like 
seed  sown  on  the  naked  rocks,  or  like  an  house  biggit  on  the 
flitting  and  faithless  sands." 

Here  I  stopped  to  draw  breath  ;  for  the  style  of  my  grand- 
sire,  the  inditer  of  this  goodly  matter,  was  rather  lengthy, 
as  our  American  friends  say.  Indeed,  I  reserve  the  rest  of 
the  piece  until  I  can  obtain  admission  to  the  Bannatyne 
Club,*  when  I  propose  to  throw  off  an  edition,  limited 
according  to  the  rules  of  that  erudite  society,  with  a  facsimile 
of  the  manuscript,  emblazonry  of  the  family  arms,  sur- 
rounded by  their  quartering,  and  a  handsome  disclamation 
of  family  pride,  with  Hoec  nos  novimus  esse  nihil,  or  Vixeo 
nostra  voco. 

In  the  meantime,  to  speak  truth,  I  cannot  but  suspect 
that,  though  my  worthy  ancestor  puffed  vigorously  to  swell 
up  the  dignity  of  his  family,  we  had  never,  in  fact,  risen 
above  the  rank  of  middling  proprietors.  The  estate  of 
Glentanner  came  to  us  by  the  intermarriage  of  my  ancestor 
Avith  Tib  Sommeril,  termed  by  the  southrons  Sommerville,  f 
a  daughter  of  that  noble  house,  but  I  fear  on  whatmygreat- 
grandsire  calls  "  the  wrong  side  of  the  blanket."  Her  hus- 
band, Gilbert,  was  killed  fighting,  as  the  inquisitio  j)Ost 
mortem  has  it,  "  siih  vexillo  regis,  apucl  prcelium  juxta 
Branxton  lie  Flodden-jield." 

We  had  our  share  in  other  national  misfortunes  ;  were 
forfeited,  like  Sir  John  Colville  of  the  Dale,  for  following 
our  betters  to  the  field  of  Langside  ;  and,  in  the  contentious 
times  of  the  last  Stuarts,  we  were  severely  fined  for  harbor- 
ing and  resetting  iutercommuned  ministers  ;  and  narrowly 
escaped  giving  a  martyr  to  the  calendar  of  the  Covenant,  in 
the  person  of  the  father  of  our  family  historian.  He  "  took 
the  sheaf  from  the  mare,"  however,  as  the  MS.  expresses  it, 
and  agreed  to  accept  of  the  terms  of  pardon  offered  by 
government,  and  sign  the  bond,  in  evidence  he  would  give 
no  farther  ground  of  offense.  My  grandsire  glosses  over  his 
father's  backsliding  as  smoothly  as  he  can,  and  comforts  Bib; 
*  See  Note  15.  f  See  Sommerville  Family.    Note  16.  *^i 


CHBONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  341 

'limself  with  ascribing  his  want  of  resolution  to  his  imwill- 
ngness  to  wreck  the  ancient  name  and  family,  and  to 
)ermit  his  lands  and  lineage  to  fall  under  a  doom  of  for- 
eiture. 

"And  indeed/'  said  the  venerable  compiler,  "as,  praised 
)e  God,  we  seldom  meet  in  Scotland  with  these  belly-gods 
md  voluptuaries,  whilk  are  unnatural  enough  to  devour  their 
)atrimony  bequeathed  to  them  by  their  forbears  in  cham- 
tki !  )ering  and  wantonness,  so  that  they  come,  with  the  prodigal 
on,  to  the  husks  and  the  swine-trough  ;  and  as  I  have  the 
ess  to  dreid  the  existence  of  such  unnatural  Neroes  in  mine 
WW  family  to  devour  the  substance  of  their  own  house  like 
irute  beasts  out  of  mere  gluttonie  and  ei^icurishnesse,  so  I 
eed  only  warn  mine  descendants  against  over-hastily  med- 
ling  with  the  mutations  in  state  and  in  religion,  which 
lave  been  near-hand  to  the  bringing  this  poor  honse  of 
'roftangry  to  perdition,  as  we  have  shown  more  than  once. 
md  albeit  I  would  not  that  my  successors  sat  still  altogether 
'hen  called  on  by  their  duty  to  kirk  and  king  ;  yet  I  would 
ave  them  wait  till  stronger  and  walthier  men  than  them- 
3lves  were  up,  so  that  either  they  may  have  the  better 
hance  of  getting  through  the  day  ;  or,  failing  of  that,  the 
onquering  party  having  some  fatter  quarry  to  live  upon, 
lay,  like  gorged  hawks,  spare  the  smaller  game." 

There  Avas  something  in   this  conclusion  which  at  first 

ading  piqued  me  extremely,  and  I  was  so  unnatural  as  to 
irse  the  whole  concern,  as  poor,  bald,  pitiful  trash,  in 
hich  a  silly  old  man  was  saying  a  great  deal  about  nothing 

"11.  Nay,  my  first  impression  was  to  thrust  it  into  the 
the  rather  that  it  reminded  me,  in  no  very  flattering 

anner,  of  the  loss  of  the  family  property,  to  which  the 
ompiler  of  the  history  was  so  much  attached,  in  the  very 
lanner  which  he  most  severely  reprobated.  It  even  seemed 
D  my  aggrieved  feelings  that  his  unprescient  gaze  on 
aturity,  in  which  he  could  not  anticipate  the  folly  of  one 
f  his  descendants,  who  should  throw  away  the  whole  in- 
eritance  in  a  few  years  of  idle  expense  and  folly,  was  meant 
s  a  personal  incivility  to  myself,  though  written  fifty  or 
ixty  years  before  I  was  born. 

A  little  reflection  made  me  ashamed  of  this  feeling  of  im- 
atience,  and  as  I  looked  at  the  even,  concise,  yet  tremulous, 
and  in  which  the  manuscript  was  written,  I  could  not  help 
liinking.  according  to  an  opinion  I  have  heard  seriously 
laintained,  that  something  of  a  man's  character  may  be 
onjectured  from  his  handwriting.     That  neat,  but  crowded 


342  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  constrained,  small  hand  argued  a  man  of  a  good  con- 
science, well  regulated  passions,  and,  to  use  his  own  phrase,  j 
an  upright  Avalk  in  life  ;  but  it  also  indicated  narrowness  of 
spirit,  inveterate  prejudice,  and  hinted  at  some  degree  of 
intolerance,  which,  though  not  natural  to  the  disposition, 
had  arisen  out  of  a  limited  education.  The  passages  from 
Scripture  and  the  classics,  rather  profusely  than  happily  in- 
troduced, and  written  in  a  half-text  character  to  mark  their 
importance,  illustrated  that  peculiar  sort  of  pedantry  which 
always  considers  the  argument  as  gained  if  secured  by  a 
quotation.  Then  the  flourished  capital  letters,  which  or- 
namented the  commencement  of  each  paragraph,  and  the 
name  of  his  family  and  of  his  ancestors,  whenever  these  oc- 
curred in  the  page,  do  they  not  express  forcibly  the  pride 
and  sense  of  importance  with  which  the  author  undertook 
and  accomplished  his  task  ?  I  persuaded  myself,  the  whole 
was  so  complete  a  portrait  of  the  man,  that  it  would  not 
have  been  a  more  undutiful  act  to  have  defaced  his  picture, 
or  even  to  have  disturbed  his  bones  in  his  coffin,  than  to 
destroy  his  manuscript.  I  thought,  for  a  moment,  of  pre- 
senting it  to  Mr.  Fairscribe  ;  but  that  confounded  passage 

about  the  prodigal  and  swine-trough I  settled  at  last  it 

was  as  well  to  lock  it  up  in  my  own  bureau,  with  the  inten- 
tion to  look  at  it  no  more. 

But  I  do  not  know  how  it  was  that  the  subject  began  to 
sit  nearer  my  heart  than  I  was  aware  of,  and  I  found  my- 
self repeatedly  engaged  in  reading  descriptions  of  farms 
which  were  no  longer  mine,  and  boundaries  which  marked 
the  property  of  others.  A  love  of  the  natal  solion,  if  Swift 
be  right  in  translating  these  words  "family  estate,''  began  /j-; 
to  awaken  in  my  bosom  ;  the  recollections  of  my  own  youth 
adding  little  to  it,  save  what  was  connected  with  field  sports. 
A  career  of  pleasure  is  unfavorable  for  acquiring  a  taste  for 
natural  beauty,  and  still  more  so  for  forming  associations 
of  a  sentimental  kind,  connecting  us  with  the  inanimate 
objects  around  us. 

I  had  thought  little  about  my  estate  while  I  possessed  and 
was  wasting  it,  unless  as  affording  the  rude  materials  out 
of  which  a  certain  inferior  race  of  creatures,  called  tenants, 
were  bound  to  produce,  in  a  greater  quantity  than  they 
actually  did,  a  certain  return  called  rent,  which  was  destined 
to  supply  my  expenses.  This  was  my  general  view  of  the 
matter.  Of  particular  places,  I  recollected  that  Garval  Hill 
was  a  famous  piece  of  rough  upland  pasture  for  rearing 
young  colts  and  teaching  them  to  throw  their  feet ;  that 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  843 

Minion  Burn  had  the  finest  yellow  trout  in  the  country  ; 
that  Seggy  Cleugh  was  unequaled  for  woodcocks ;  that 
Bengibert  Moors  afforded  excellent  moorfowl-shooting ;  and 
that  thQ  clear  bubbling  fouutain  called  the  Harper's  Well 
was  the  best  recipe  in  the  world  on  the  morning  after  a 
*  hard-go '  with  my  neighbor  fox-hunters.  Still  these  ideas 
recalled,  by  degrees,  pictures  of  which  I  had  since  learned 
to  appreciate  the  merit — scenes  of  silent  loneliness,  where 
extensive  moors,  undulating  into  wild  hills,  were  only  dis- 
turbed by  the  whistle  of  the  plover  or  the  crow  of  the  heath- 
cock  ;  Avild  ravines  creeping  up  into  mountains,  filled  with 
natural  wood,  and  which,  when  traced  dowuM^ards  along  the 
path  formed  by  shepherds  and  nutters,  were  found  gradually 
to  enlarge  and  deepen,  as  each  formed  a  channel  to  its  own 
brook,  sometimes  bordered  by  steep  banks  of  earth,  often 
y,|with  the  more  romantic  boundary  of  naked  rocks  or  cliffs, 
J,,:  crested  with  oak,  mountain-ash,  and  hazel — all  gratifying 
the  eye  the  more  that  the  scenery  was,  from  the  bare  nature 
of  the  country  around,  totally  unexpected. 

I  had  recollections,  too,  of  fair  and  fertile  holms,  or  level 
plains,  extending  between  the  wooded  banks  and  the  bold 
stream  of  the  Clyde,  which,  colored  like  pure  amber,  or 
rather  having  the  hue  of  the  pebbles  called  cairngorm, 
rushes  over  sheets  of  rock  and  beds  of  gravel,  inspiring  a 
species  of  awe  from  the  few  and  faithless  fords  which  it 
presents,  and  the  frequency  of  fatal  accidents,  now  dim- 
inished by  the  number  of  bridges.  These  alluvial  holms 
were  frequently  bordered  by  triple  and  quadruple  rows  of 
large  trees,  which  gracefully  marked  their  boundary,  and 
dipped  their  long  arms  into  the  foaming  stream  of  the  river. 
Other  places  I  remembered,  which  had  been  described  by 
the  old  huntsman  as  the  lodge  of  tremendous  wildcats,  or 
the  spot  where  tradition  stated  the  mighty  stag  to  have  been 
brought  to  bay,  or  where  heroes,  whose  might  was  now  as 
much  forgotten,  were  said  to  have  been  slain  by  surprise,  or 
in  battle. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  these  finished  landscapes 
became  visible  before  the  eyes  of  my  imagination,  as  the 
scenery  of  the  stage  is  disclosed  by  the  rising  of  the  curtain. 
I  have  said,  that  1  had  looked  upon  the  country  around  me, 
during  the  hurried  and  dissipated  period  of  my  life,  with 
the  eyes  indeed  of  my  body,  but  without  those  of  my  nnder- 
standing.  It  was  piece  by  piece,  as  a  child  picks  out  its 
lesson,  that  I  began  to  recollect  the  beauties  of  nature 
which  had  once  surrounded  me  in  the  home  of  my  fore- 


'1 


344  WA  VERLET  NO VEL8 

fathers.  A  natural  taste  for  them  must  have  lurked  at  the 
bottom  of  my  heart,  which  awakened  when  I  was  in  foreign 
countries,  and  becoming  by  degrees  a  favorite  passion,  grad- 
ually turned  its  eyes  inwards,  and  ransacked  the  neglected 
stores  which  my  memory  had  involuntarily  recorded,  and, 
when  excited,  exerted  herself  to  collect  and  to  comj^lete. 

I  began  now  to  regret  more  bitterly  tlian  ever  the  having 
fooled  away  my  family  property,  the  care  and  improvement 
of  which  I  saw  might  have  afforded  an  agreeable  employ- 
ment for  my  leisure,  which  only  went  to  brood  on  i^ast  mis- 
fortunes, and  increase  useless  repining.  "  Had  but  a  single 
farm  been  reserved,  however  small,"  said  I  one  day  to  Mr. 
Fairscribe,  "I  should  have  had  a  place  I  could  call  my 
home,  and  something  that  I  could  call  business." 

"  It  might  have  been  managed,"  answered  Fairscribe  ; 
"  and  for  my  part,  I  inclined  to  keep  the  mansion-house, 
mains,  and  some  of  the  old  family  acres  together  ;  but  both 

Mr. and  you  were  of  opinion  that  the  money  would  be 

more  useful." 

"  True — true,  my  good  friend,"  said  I  ;  "^  I  was  a  fool 
then,  and  did  not  think  I  could  incline  to  be  Glentanner 
wath  £200  or  £300  a-year,  instead  of  Glentanner  with  as 
many  thousands.  I  was  then  a  haughty,  pettish,  ignorant, 
dissipated,  broken-down  Scottish  laird  ;  and  thinking  my 
imaginary  consequence  altogether  ruined,  I  cared  not  how 
soon,  or  how  absolutely,  1  was  rid  of  everything  that  recalled 
it  to  my  own  memory  or  that  of  others." 

"  And  now  it  is  like  you  have  changed  your  mind  ?"  said 
Fairscribe.  "  Well,  fortune  is  apt  to  circumduce  the  term 
upon  us  ;  but  I  think  she  may  allow  you  to  revise  your  con- 
descendence." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  my  good  friend  ?"  jr' ' 

''Nay,"  said  Fairscribe,  "there  is  ill  luck  in  averring  til"    ^ 
one  is  sure  of  his  facts.     I  will  look  back  on  a  file  of  news- 
papers, and  to-morrow  you  shall  liear  from  me  ;  come,  belj 
yourself — I  have  seen  you  fill  your  glass  higher." 

''And  shall  see  it  again,"  said  I,  pouring  out  what  re 
mained  of  our  bottle  of  claret ;  "  the  wine  is  capital,  and  & 
shall  our  toast  be.  To  your  fireside,  my  good  friend.  Am 
now  we  shall  go  beg  a  Scots  song  without  foreign  grace 
from  my  little  siren  Miss  Katie." 

The  next  day  accordingly  I  received  a  parcel  from  Mil 
Fairscribe  with  a  newspaper  inclosed,  among  the  advertis* 
ments  of  which  one  was  marked  with  a  cross  as  requirin 
my  attention.     I  read  to  my  surjprise —  ^^  j 


llr. 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  345 

"  DESIRABLE  ESTATE  FOR  SALE 

**  By  order  of  the  Lords  of  Council  and  Session,  will  be 
exposed  to  sale  iu  the  New  Sessions  House  of  Edinburgh,  on 
Wednesday  the  25th  November  18 — ,  all  and  whole  the  lands 
and  barony  of  Glentanner,  now  called  Castle  Treddles,  lying 
in  the  middle  Ward  of  Clydesdale  and  shire  of  Lanark,  with 
the  teinds,  parsonage  and  vicarage,  fishings  in  the  Clyde, 
woods,  mosses,  moors,  and  pasturages,"  etc.,  etc. 

The  advertisement  went  on  to  set  forth  the  advantages  of 
the  soil,  situation,  natural  beauties,  and  capabilities  of  im- 
provement, not  forgetting  its  being  a  freehold  estate,  with 
the  particular  polypus  capacity  of  being  sliced  up  into  two, 
three,  or,  with  a  little  assistance,  four  freehold  qualifica- 
tions, and  a  hint  that  the  county  was  likely  to  be  eagerly 
contested  between  two  great  families.  The  upset  price  at 
which  ''the  said  lands  and  barony  and  others  "were  to  be 
exposed  was  thirty  years'  purchase  of  the  proven  rental, 
which  was  about  a  fourth  more  than  the  property  had 
fetched  at  the  last  sale.  This,  which  was  mentioned,  I  sup- 
pose, to  show  the  improvable  character  of  the  land,  would 
have  given  another  some  pain  ;  but  let  me  speak  truth  of 
myself  in  good  as  in  evil — it  pained  not  me.  I  was  only 
angry  that  Fairscribe,  who  knew  something  generally  of  the 
extent  of  my  funds,  should  have  tantalized  me  by  sending 
me  information  that  my  family  property  was  in  the  market, 
since  he  must  have  known  that  the  price  was  far  out  of  my 
reach. 

But  a  letter  dropped  from  the  parcel  on  the  floor,  which 
attracted  my  eye,  and  explained  tlie  riddle.  A  client  of 
Mr.  Fairscribe's,  a  moneyed  man,  tliought  of  buying  Glen- 
tanner, merely  as  an  investment  of  money — it  was  even  un- 
likely he  would  ever  see  it  ;  and  so  the  price  of  the  whole 
being  some  thousand  pounds  beyond  what  cash  he  had  on 
hand,  this  accommodating  Dives  would  gladly  take  a  part- 
ner in  the  sale  for  any  detached  farm,  and  would  make  no 
to  objection  to  its  including  the  most  desirable  part  of  the  es- 
tate in  point  of  beauty,  provided  the  price  was  made  ade- 
quate. Mr.  Fairscribe  would  take  care  I  was  not  imposed 
on  in  the  matter,  and  said  in  his  card,  he  believed,  if  I 
really  wished  to  make  such  a  purchase,  I  had  better  go  out 
and  look  at  the  premises,  advising  me,  at  the  same  time,  to 
Ivf''  keep  a  strict  incognito — an  advice  somewhat  superfluous, 
Bince  I  am  naturally  of  a  retired  and  reserved  disposition. 


CHAPTER  m 

MB.  CEOFTANGRY,  INTER  ALIA,  REVISITS  GLENTANNER 

Then  sing  of  stage-coaches, 
And  fear  no  reproaches 

For  riding  in  one ; 
But  daily  be  jogging, 
Whilst,  whistling  and  flogging, 
Whilst,  whistling  and  flogging, 

The  coachman  drives  on. 

Farquhar. 

Disguised  in  a  gray  surtout  which  had  seen  service,  a  white 
castor  on  my  head,  and  a  stent  Indian  cane  in  my  hand,  the 
next  week  saw  me  on  the  top  of  a  mail-coacli  driving  to  the 
westward. 

I  like  mail-coaches,  and  I  hate  them.  I  like  them  for  ray 
convenience,  but  I  detest  them  for  setting  the  whole  world 
a-gadding,  instead  of  sitting  quietly  still  minding  their  own 
business,  and  preserving  the  stamp  of  originality  of  charac- 
ter which  nature  or  education  may  have  impressed  on  them. 
Off  they  go,  jingling  against  each  other  in  the  rattling  vehi- 
cle till  they  have  no  more  variety  of  stamp  in  them  than  so 
many  smooth  shillings — the  same  even  in  their  Welsh  wigs 
and  greatcoats,  each  without  more  individuality  than  be- 
longs to  a  partner  of  the  company,  as  the  waiter  calls  them, 
of  the  Xorth  coach. 

Worthy  J\Ir.  Piper,  best  of  contractors  who  ever  furnished 
four  f rampal  jades  for  public  use,  I  bless  you  when  I  set  out 
on  a  journey  myself  ;  the  neat  coaches  under  your  contract 
render  the  intercourse,  from  Johnnie  Groat's  House  to 
Ladykirk  and  Cornhill  bridge,  safe,  pleasant,  and  cheap. 
But,  Mr.  Piper,  you,  who  are  a  shrewd  arithmetician,  did  it 
never  occur  to  you  to  calculate  how  many  fools'  heads, 
which  might  have  produced  an  idea  or  two  in  the  year,  if 
suffered  to  remain  in  quiet,  get  effectually  addled  by  jolting 
to  and  fro  in  these  flying  chariots  of  yours  ;  how  many 
decent  countrymen  become  conceited  bumpkins  after  a  cat- 
tle-show dinner  in  the  capital,  which  they  could  not  have  at- 
tended save  for  your  means  ;  how  many  decent  country  par- 
sons return  critics  and  spouters,  by  way  of  importing  the 
34ti 


i 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  347 

newest  taste  from  Edinburgh  ?  And  how  will  your  con- 
science answer  one  day  for  carrying  so  many  bonny  lasses 
to  barter  modesty  for  conceit  and  levity  at  the  metropolitan 
Vanity  Fair  ? 

Consider,  too,  the  low  rate  to  which  you  reduce  human 
intellect.  I  do  not  believe  your  habitual  customers  have 
their  ideas  more  enlarged  than  one  of  your  coach-horses. 
They  hnoius  the  road,  like  the  English  postilion,  and  they 
know  nothing  beside.  They  date,  like  the  carriers  at  Gads- 
hill,  from  the  death  of  John  Ostler  ;  *  the  succession  of 
guards  forms  a  dynasty  in  their  eyes  ;  coachmen  are  their 
ministers  of  state,  and  an  upset  is  to  them  a  greater  incident 
than  a  change  of  administration.  Their  only  point  of  interest 
on  the  road  is  to  save  the  time,  and  see  whether  the  coach 
keeps  the  hour.  This  is  surely  a  miserable  degradation  of 
human  intellect.  Take  my  advice,  my  good  sir,  and  disin- 
terestedly contrive  that  once  or  twice  a  quarter  your  most 
dexterous  whip  shall  overturn  a  coachful  of  these  superfluous 
travelers,  in  terrorem  to  those  who,  as  Horace  says,  ''de- 
light in  the  dust  raised  by  your  chariots." 

Your  current  and  customury  mail-coach  passenger,  too, 
gets  abominably  selfish,  schemes  successfully  for  the  best  seat, 
the  freshest  egg,  the  right  cut  of  the  sirloin.  The  mode  of 
traveling  is  death  to  all  the  courtesies  and  kindnesses  of  life, 
and  goes  a  great  way  to  demoralize  the  character,  and  cause 
it  to  retrograde  to  barbarism.  You  allow  us  excellent  dinners, 
but  only  twenty  minutes  to  eat  them  ;  and  what  is  the  con- 
sequence ?  Bashful  beauty  sits  on  the  one  side  of  us,  timid 
childhood  on  the  other  ;  respectable,  yet  somewhat  feeble, 
old  age  is  placed  on  our  front ;  and  all  require  those  acts  of 
politeness  wliich  ought  to  put  every  degree  upon  a  level  at 
the  convivial  board.  But  have  we  time — we  the  strong  and 
active  of  the  party — to  perform  the  duties  of  the  table  to  the 
more  retired  and  basliful,  to  whom  these  little  attentions  are 
due  ?  The  lady  should  be  pressed  to  her  chicken,  the  old 
man  helped  to  his  favorite  and  tender  slice,  the  child  to  his 
'tart.  But  not  a  fraction  of  a  minute  have  we  to  bestow  on 
any  other  person  than  ourselves  ;  and  the  prut-prut — tut-tut 
of  the  guard's  discordant  note  summons  us  to  the  coach,  the 
weaker  party  having  gone  without  their  dinner,  and  the  able- 
bodied  and  active  threatened  with  indigestion,  from  having 
swallowed  victuals  like  a  Lei'stershire  clown  bolting  bacon. 

On  the  memorable  occasion  I  am  speaking  of,  I  lost  my 

*  See  the  opening  scene  £of  Act  ii.]  of  the  First  Part  of  Shaks- 
peare's  Henry  IV, 


0^*8  IVAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Uieakfast,  sheerly  from  obeying  the  commands  of  a  respect- 
able-looking old  lady,  who  once  required  me  to  ring  the  bell, 
and  another  time  to  help  the  tea-kettle.  I  have  some  reason 
to  think  she  was  literally  an  "  old  stager,"  who  laughed  in 
her  sleeve  at  my  complaisance,  so  that  I  have  sworn  in  my 
secret  soul  revenge  upon  her  sex,  and  all  such  errant  damsels, 
of  whatever  age  and  degree,  whom  I  may  encounter  in  mj 
travels.  I  mean  all  this  without  the  least  ill-will  to  my  friend 
the  contractor,  who  I  think,  has  approached  as  near  as  any 
one  is  like  to  do  towards  accomplishing  the  modest  wish  of 
the  amatus  and  amata  of  the  Peri  Bailious, 

Ye  gods,  annihilate  but  time  and  space, 
And  make  two  lovers  happy. 

I  intend  to  give  Mr.  P.  his  full  revenge  when  I  come  to  dis- 
cuss the  more  recent  enormity  of  steamboats  ;  meanwhile,  I 
shall  only  say  of  both  these  modes  of  conveyance,  that 

There  is  no  living  with  them  or  without  them, 

I  am  perhaps  more  critical  on  the mail-coach  on  this 

particular  occasion,  that  I  did  not  meet  all  the  respect  from 
the  worshipful  company  in  his  Majesty's  carriage  that  I  think 
I  was  entitled  to.  I  must  say  it  for  myself,  that  I  bear,  in  my 
own  opinion  at  least,  not  a  vulgar  point  about  me.  My  face 
has  seen  service,  but  there  is  still  a  good  set  of  teeth,  an 
acquiline  nose,  and  a  quick  gray  eye,  set  a  little  too  deep 
under  the  eyebrow  ;  and  a  cue  of  the  kind  once  called  mili- 
tary may  serve  to  show  that  my  civil  occupations  have  been 
sometimes  mixed  with  those  of  war.  Nevertheless,  two  idle 
young  fellows  in  the  vehicle,  or  rather  on  the  top  of  it,  were 
so  much  amused  with  the  deliberation  which  I  used  in  ascend- 
ing to  the  same  place  of  eminence,  that  I  thought  I  should 
have  been  obliged  to  poll  them  up  a  little.  And  I  was  in  no 
good-humor,  at  an  unsuppressed  laugh  following  my  descent, 
when  set  down  at  the  angle  where  a  cross-road,  striking  ofiE 
from  the  main  one,  led  me  towards  Glentanner,  from  which! 
I  was  still  nearly  five  miles  distant. 

It  was  an  old-fashioned  road,  which,  preferring  ascents  to 
sloughs,  was  led  in  a  straight  line  over  height  and  hollow, 
through  moor  and  dale.  Every  object  around  me,  as  I  passed 
them  in  succession,  reminded  me  of  old  days,  and  at  the 
same  time  formed  the  strongest  contrast  with  them  possible. 
Unattended,  on  foot,  with  a  small  bundle  in  my  hand, 
deemed  scarce  sufficient  good  company  for  the  two  shabby 


i 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  349 

genteels  with  whom  I  had  been  lately  perched  on  the  top  of 
a  mail-coach,  I  did  not  seem  to  be  the  same  person  with  the 
young  prodigal  who  lived  with  the  noblest  and  gayest  in  the 
land,  and  who,  thirty  years  before,  would,  in  the  same  coun- 
try, have  been  on  the  back  of  a  horse  that  had  been  victor 
for  a  plate,  or  smoking  along  in  his  traveling  chaise-and- 
four.  My  sentiments  were  not  less  changed  than  my  con- 
dition, i  could  quite  well  remember  that  my  ruling  sensa- 
tion in  the  days  of  heady  youth  was  a  mere  schoolboy's 
eagerness  to  get  farthest  forward  in  the  race  in  which  I  had 

engaged,  to  drink  as  many  bottles  as ,  to  be  thought  as 

good  a  judge  of  a  horse  as ,  to  have  the  knowing  cut  of 

's  jacket.     These  were  thy  gods,  0  Israel ! 

Now  I  was  a  mere  looker-on,  seldom  an  unmoved,  and 
sometimes  an  angr}^  spectator,  but  still  a  spectator  only,  of 
the  pursuits  of  mankind.  I  felt  how  little  my  opinion  was 
valued  by  those  engaged  in  the  busy  turmoil,  yet  I  exer- 
cised it  with  the  profusion  of  an  old  lawyer  retired  from  his 
profession,  who  thrusts  himself  into  his  neighbor's  affairs, 
and  gives  advice  where  it  is  not  wanted,  merely  nnder  the 
pretense  of  loving  the  crack  of  the  whip. 

I  came  amid  these  reflections  to  the  brow  of  a  hill,  from 
which  I  expected  to  see  Glentanner — a  modest  looking,  yet 
comfortable,  house,  its  walls  covered  with  the  most  produc- 
tive fruit-trees  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  screened 
from  the  most  stormy  quarters  of  the  horizon  by  a  deep  and 
ancient  wood:  which  overhung  the  neighboring  hill.  The 
house  was  gone  ;  a  great  part  of  the  wood  was  felled  ;  and 
instead  of  the  gentlemanlike  mansion,  shrouded  and  em- 
bosomed among  its  old  hereditary  trees,  stood  Castle  Tred- 
dles,  ahuge  lumping  four-square  pile  of  freestone,  as  bare 
as  my  nail,  except  for  a  paltry  edging  of  decayed  and  linger- 
ing exotics,  with  an  impoverished  lawn  stretched  before  it, 
which,  instead  of  boasting  deep  green  tapestry,  enameled 
with  daisies  and  with  crowsfoot  and  cowslips,  showed  an  ex- 
tent of  nakedness,  raked,  indeed,  and  leveled,  but,  where 
the  sown  grasses  had  failed  with  drought,  and  the  earth  re- 
tained its  natural  complexion,  seemed  nearly  as  brown  and 
bare  as  when  it  was  newly  dug  np. 

The  house  was  a  large  fabric,  which  pretended  to  its  name 
of  castle  only  from  the  front  windows  being  finished  in  acute 
Gothic  arches  (being,  by  the  way,  the  very  reverse  of  the 
castellated  style),  and  each  angle  graced  with  a  turret 
about  the  size  of  a  pepper-box.  In  every  other  respect  it  re- 
sembled a  large  town  house,  which  like  a  fat  burgess,  had 


350  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

taken  a  walk  to  the  country  ou  a  holiday,  and  climbed  to 
the  top  of  an  eminence  to  look  around  it.  The  bright  red 
color  of  the  freestone,  the  size  of  the  building,  the  formal- 
ity of  its  shajDC,  and  awkwardness  of  its  position,  harmon- 
ized as  ill  with  the  sweeping  Clyde  in  front,  and  the  bub- 
bling brook  which  danced  down  on  the  right,  as  the  fat  civic 
form,  with  bushy  wig,  gold-headed  cane,  maroon-colored 
coat,  and  mottled  silk  stockings,  Avould  have  accorded  with 
the  wild  and  magnificent  scenery  of  Corehouse  Linn. 

I  went  up  to  the  house.  It  was  in  that  state  of  desertion 
which  is  perhaps  the  most  unpleasant  to  look  on,  for  the 
place  was  going  to  decay,  without  having  been  inhabitated. 
There  were  about  the  mansion,  though  deserted,  none  of 
the  slow  moldering  touches  of  time,  which  communicate  to 
buildings,  as  to  the  human  frame,  a  sort  of  reverence,  while 
depriving  them  of  beauty  and  of  strength.  The  disconcert- 
ed schemes  of  the  laird  of  Castle  Treddles  had  resembled 
fruit  that  becomes  decayed  without  ever  having  ripened. 
Some  windows  broken,  others  patched,  others  blocked  up 
with  deals,  gave  a  disconsolate  air  to  all  around,  and  seemed 
to  say,  "  There,  vanity  had  purposed  to  fix  her  seat,  but 
was  anticipated  by  poverty." 

To  the  inside,  after  many  a  vain  summons,  I  was  at 
length  admitted  by  an  old  laborer.  The  house  contained 
'every  contrivance  for  luxury  and  accommodation  :  the 
kitchens  were  a  model,  and  there  were  hot  closets  on  the 
office  staircase,  that  the  dishes  might  not  cool,  as  our 
Scottish  phrase  goes,  between  the  kitchen  and  the  hall. 
But  instead  of  the  genial  smell  of  good  cheer,  these  temples 
of  Comus  emitted  the  damp  odor  of  sepulchral  vaults,  and 
the  large  cabinets  of  cast-iron  looked  like  the  cages  of  some 
feudal  bastille.  The  eating-room  and  drawing-room,  with 
an  interior  boudoir,  were  magnificent  apartments,  the  ceil- 
ings fretted  and  adorned  with  stucco-work,  which  already 
was  broken  in  many  places,  and  looked  in  others  damp  and 
moldering;  the  wood  paneling  was  shrunk,  and  warped, 
and  cracked  ;  the  doors,  which  had  not  been  hung  for  more 
than  two  years,  were,  nevertheless,  already  swinging  loose 
from  their  hinges.  Desolation,  in  short,  was  where  enjoy- 
ment had  never  been;  and  the  want  of  all  the  usual  means 
to  preserve  was  fast  performing  the  Avork  of  decay. 

The  story  was  a  common  one,  and  told  in  a  few  words. 
Mr.  Treddles,  senior,  who  bought  the  estate,  was  a  cautious, 
money-making  person  ;  his  son,  still  embarked  in  commer- 
cial speculations,   desired  at  the  same   time  to  enjoy  his 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANON  GATE  361 

opulence  and  to  increase  it.  He  incurred  great  expenses, 
amongst  which  this  edifice  was  to  be  numbered.  To  support 
these  he  speculated  boldly  and  unfortunately  ;  and  thus  the 
whole  history  is  told,  which  may  serve  for  more  places  than 
Glentanner. 

Strange  and  various  feelings  ran  through  my  bosom  as  I 
loitered  ii^  these  deserted  apartments,  scarce  hearing  what 
my  guide  said  to  me  about  the  size  and  destination  of  each 
room.  The  first  sentiment,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  was  one 
of  gratified  spite.  My  patrician  pride  was  pleased  that  the 
mechanic,  who  had  not  thought  the  house  of  theCroftangiys 
sufficiently  good  for  him,  had  now  experienced  a  fall  in  his 
turn.  My  next  thought  was  as  mean,  though  not  so  malici- 
ous. "  I  have  had  the  better  of  this  fellow,"  thought  I : 
"  if  I  lost  the  estate,  I  at  least  spent  the  price  ;  and  Mr. 
Treddles  has  lost  his  among  paltry  commercial  engagements." 

"Wretch  !"  said  the  secret  voice  within,  "  darest  thou 
exult  in  thy  shame  ?  Recollect  how  thy  youth  and  fortune 
were  wasted  in  those  years,  and  triumph  not  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  an  existence  which  leveled  thee  with  the  beasts  that 
perish.  Bethink  thee,  how  this  poor  man's_  vanity  gave  at 
least  bread  to  the  laborer,  peasant,  and  citizen  ;  and  his 
profuse  expenditure,  like  water  spilt  on  the  ground,  refreshed 
the  lowly  herbs  and  plants  where  it  fell.  But  thou — whom 
hast  thou  enriched,  during  thy  career  of  extravagance,  save 
those  brokers  of  the  devil — vintners,  panders,  gamblers,  and 
horse-jockeys  ?"  The  anguish  produced  by  this  self-reproof 
was  so  strong,  that  I  put  my  hand  suddenly  to  my  forehead, 
and  was  obliged  to  allege  a  sudden  megrim  to  my  attendant, 
in  apology  for  the  action,  and  a  slight  groan  with  which  it 
was  accompanied. 

I  then  made  an  effort  to  turn  my  thoughts  into  a  more 
philosophical  current,  and  muttered  half  aloud,  as  a  charm 
to  lull  any  more  painful  thoughts  to  rest — 

Nunc  agar  Umbreni  sub  nomine,  nuper  Ofelli 
Dictus  erat,  nulli  proprius  ;   sed  cedit  in  usum 
Nunc  mihi,  nunc  alii.     Quocirca  vivite  fortes, 
Fortiaque  adversis  opponite  pectora  rebus.* 

In  my  anxiety  to  fix  the  philosophical  precept  in  my  mind,  I 
recited  the  last  line  aloud,  which  joined  to  my  previous 
agitation,  I  afterwards  found  became  tlie  cause  of  a  report 
that  a  mad  schoolmaster  had  come  from  Edinburgh  with 
the  idea  in  his  head  of  buying  Castle  Treddles. 

*  See  Lines  from  Horace.    Note  17. 


352  WA  VERLE Y  NO VEL S 

As  I  saw  my  companiou  was  desirous  of  getting  rid  of  me, 
I  asked  where  I  was  to  find  the  person  in  whose  hands  were 
left  the  map  of  the  estate  and  other  particulars  connected 
with  the  sale.     The  agent  who  had  this  in  possession,  I  was 

told,  lived  at  the  town  of ;  which,  I  was  informed,  and 

indeed  knew  well,  was  distant  five  miles  and  a  bittock,  which 
may  pass  in  a  country  where  they  are  less  lavish  of  their 
land  for  two  or  three  more.  Being  somewhat  afraid  of  the 
fatigue  of  walking  so  far,  I  inquired  if  a  horse  or  any  sort  of 
carriage  was  to  be  had,  and  was  answered  in  the  negative. 

"  But,"  said  my  cicerone,  "you  may  halt  a  blink  till  next 
morning  at  the  Treddles  Arms,  a  very  decent  house,  scarce 
a  mile  off." 

"  A  new  house,  I  suppose  ?"  replied  I. 

"  Na,  it's  a  new  public,  but  it's  an  auld  house  :  it  was  aye 
the  leddy's  jointure-house  in  the  Croftangry  folks'  time  ;  but 
Mr.  Treddles  has  fitted  it  up  for  the  convenience  of  the 
country.  Poor  man,  he  was  a  public-spirited  man,  when  he 
had  the  means." 

"  Duntarkin  a  public-house  !  "  I  exclaimed, 

"  Ay,"  said  the  fellow,  surprised  at  my  naming  the  place, 
by  its  former  title  ;  "  ye'U  hae  been  in  this  country  before, 
I'm  thinking  ?  " 

"  Long  since,"  I  replied.  ''And  there  is  good  accommo- 
dation at  the  what-d'ye-call-'em  arras,  and  a  civil  landlord  ?" 
This  1  said  by  way  of  saying  something,  for  the  man  stared 
very  hard  at  me. 

"  Very  decent  accommodation.  Ye'll  no  be  for  fashing 
wi'  wine,  I'm  thinking,  and  there's  walth  o'  porter,  ale,  and 
a  drap  gude  whisky — (in  an  undertone)  Fairntosh,  if  you 
can  get  on  the  lee-side  of  the  gudewife,  for  there  is  nae 
gudeman.     They  ca'  her  Christie  Steele." 

I  almost  started  at  the  sound.  Christie  Steele  !  Christie 
Steele  was  my  mother's  body-servant,  her  very  right  hand, 
and,  between  ourselves,  something  like  a  viceroy  over  her. 
I  recollected  her  perfectly  ;  and  though  she  had,  in  former 
times,  been  no  favorite  of  mine,  her  name  now  sounded  in 
my  ear  like  that  of  a  friend,  and  was  the  first  word  I  had 
heard  somewhat  in  unison  with  the  associations  around  me. 
I  sallied  from  Castle  Treddles,  determined  to  make  the  best 
of  my  way  to  Duntarkin,  and  my  cicerone  hung  by  me  for  a 
little  way,  giving  loose  to  his  love  of  talking— an  opportunity 
which,  situated  as  he  was,  the  seneschal  of  a  deserted  castle, 
was  not  likely  to  occur  frequently. 

**Some   folk   think,"  said   my   companion,    ''that    Mr 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  353 

Treddles  might  as  weel  have  put  my  wife  as  'Christie  Steele 
into  the  Treddles  Arms,  for  Christie  had  been  aye  in  service, 
and  never  in  the  public  line,  and  so  it's  like  she  is  ganging 
back  in  the  world,  as  I  hear  ;  now,  my  wife  had  keepit  a  vic- 
tualling office." 

"■  That  would  have  been  an  advantage,  certainly,"  I  re- 
plied. 

''  But  I  am  no  sure  that  I  wad  ha'  looten  Eppie  take  it,  if 
they  had  put  it  in  her  offer." 

"  That's  a  different  consideration." 

"  Ony  way,  I  wadna  ha'  liked  to  have  offended  Mr.  Tred- 
dles ;  he  was  a  wee  toustie  when  you  rubbed  him  again  the 
hair,  but  a  kind,  weel-meaning  man." 

I  wanted  to  get  rid  of  this  species  of  chat,  and  finding 
myself  near  the  entrance  of  a  footpath  which  made  a  short 
cut  to  Duntarkin,  I  put  half-a-crown  into  my  guide's  hand, 
bade  him  good-evening,  and  plunged  into  the  woods. 

"  Hout,  sir — fie,  sir — no  from  the  like  of  you.  Stay,  sir, 
ye  wunna  find  the  way  that  gate.  Odd's  mercy,  he  maun 
ken  the  gate  as  weel  as  I  do  mysell.  Weel,  I  wad  like  to  ken 
wha  the  chield  is." 

Such  Avere  the  last  words  of  my  guide's  drowsy,  uninter- 
esting tone  of  voice  ;  and,  glad  to  be  rid  of  him,  I  strode  out 
stoutly,  in  despite  of  large  stones,  briers,  and  ''bad  steps," 
which  abounded  in  the  road  I  had  chosen.  In  the  interim, 
I  tried  as  much  as  I  could,  with  verses  from  Horace  and  Prior, 
and  all  wlio  have  lauded  the  mixture  of  literary  with  rural 
life,  to  call  back  the  visions  of  last  night  and  this  morning, 
imagining  myself  settled  in  some  detached  farm  of  the 
estate  of  Glentanner, 

Which  sloping  hills  around  inclose  ; 
Where  many  a  birch  and  brown  oak  grows  ; 

when  I  should  have  a  cottage  with  a  small  library,  a  small 
cellar,  a  spare  bed  for  a  friend,  and  live  more  happy  and 
more  honored  than  when  I  had  the  whole  barony.  But  the 
sight  of  Castle  Treddles  had  disturbed  all  my  own  castles  in 
the  air.  The  realities  of  the  matter,  like  a  stone  plashed 
into  a  limpid  fountain,  had  destroyed  the  reflection  of  the 
objects  around,  which,  till  this  act  of  violence,  lay  slumber- 
ing on  the  crystal  surface,  and  I  tried  in  vain  to  re-establish 
the  picture  which  had  been  so  rudely  broken.  Well,  then  I 
would  try  it  another  way  :  I  would  try  to  get  Christie  Steele 
out  of  her  public,  sinoe  she  was  not  thriving  in  it,  and  she 
23 


354  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

who  had  been  my  mother's  governante  should  be  mine.     1 
knew  all  her  faults,  and  I  told  her  history  over  to  myself. 

She  was  a  grand-daughter,  I  believe,  at  least  some  relative, 
of  the  famous  Covenanter  of  the  name,  whom  Dean  Swift's 
friend,  Captain  Creichton  shot  on  his  own  staircase  in  the 
times  of  the  persecutions,*  and  had  perhaps  derived  from 
her  native  stock  much  both  of  its  good  and  evil  properties. 
No  one  could  say  of  her  that  she  was  the  life  and  spirit  of 
the  family,  though,  in  my  mother's  time,  she  directed  all 
family  afhairs  ;  her  look  was  austere  and  gloomy,  and  when 
she  was  not  displeased  with  yon,  you  could  only  find  it  out 
by  her  silence.  If  there  was  cause  for  complaint,  real  or 
imaginary,  Christie  was  loud  enough.  She  loved  my  mother 
with  the  devoted  attachment  of  a  younger  sister,  but  she 
was  as  jealous  of  her  favor  to  any  one  else  as  if  she  had  been 
the  aged  husband  of  a  coquettish  wife,  and  as  severe  in  her 
reprehensions  as  an  abbess  over  her  nuns.  The  command 
which  she  exercised  over  her  was  that,  I  fear,  of  a  strong 
and  determined  over  a  feeble  and  more  nervous  disposition ; 
and  though  it  was  used  with  rigor,  yet,  to  the  best  of  Christie 
Steele's  belief,  she  was  urging  her  mistress  to  her  best  and 
most  becoming  course,  and  would  have  died  rather  than  have 
recommended  any  other.  The  attachment  of  this  woman 
was  limited  to  the  family  of  Croftangry,  for  she  had  few  re-' 
lations  ;  and  a  dissolute  cousin,  whom  late  in  life  she  had 
taken  as  a  husband,  had  long  left  her  a  widow. 

To  me  she  had  ever  a  strong  dislike.  Even  from  my  early 
childhood  she  was  jealous,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  of  my 
interest  in  my  mother's  affections  ;  she  saw  my  foibles  and 
voices  with  abhorrence,  and  without  a  grain  of  allowance  :  nor 
did  she  pardon  the  weakness  of  maternal  affection,  even  when, 
by  the  death  of  two  brothers,  I  came  to  be  the  only  child  of 
a  widowed  parent.  At  the  time  my  disorderly  conduct  in- 
duced my  mother  to  leave  Glentanner  and  retreat  to  her 
jointure-house,  I  always  blamed  Chriistie  Steele  for  having 
influenced  her  resentment,  and  prevented  her  from  listen- 
ing to  my  vows  of  amendment,  which  at  times  were  real  and 
serious,  and  might,  perhaps,  have  accelerated  that  change  of 
disposition  which  has  since,  I  trust,  taken  place.  But 
Christie  regarded  me  as  altogether  a  doomed  and  predesti- 
nated child  of  perdition,  who  was  sure  to  hold  on  my  course, 
and  drag  downwards  whosoever  might  attempt  to  afford  me 
support. 

Still,  though  I  knew  such  had  been  Christie's  prejudices 

*  See  Steele,  the  Covenanter.    Note  18. 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  355 

against  me  in  otlier  days,  yet  I  thought  enough  of  time  had 
since  passed  away  to  destroy  all  of  them.  I  knew,  that  when, 
through  the  disorder  of  my  affairs,  my  mother  underwent 
some  temi:)orary  inconvenience  about  money  matters,  Christie 
as  a  thing  of  course,  stood  in  the  gap,  and  having  sold  a 
small  inheritance  which  had  descended  to  her,  brought  the 
purchase  money  to  her  mistress,  with  a  sense  of  devotion  as 
deep  as  that  which  inspired  the  Christians  of  the  first  age, 
when  they  sold  all  they  had  and  followed  the  apostles  of  the 
church.  I  therefore  thought  that  we  might,  in  old  Scottish 
phrase,  "  let  byeganes  be  byeganes,"  and  begin  upon  a  new 
account.  Yet  I  resolved,  like  a  skilful  general,  to  recon- 
noiter  a  little  before  laying  down  any  precise  scheme  of 
proceeding,  and  in  the  interim  I  determined  to  preserve  my 
incognito. 


CHAPTER  rV 

MR.    CROFTANGRT   BIDS  ADIEU   TO    CLYDESDJLLB 

Alas,  how  changed  from  what  it  once  had  been  I 
'Twas  now  degraded  to  a  common  inn. 

Gay. 

An  hour's  brisk  walking,  or  thereabouts,  placed  me  in  front 
of  Duntarkiu,  which  had  also,  I  found,  undergone  consider- 
able alterations,  though  it  had  not  been  altogether  demolished 
like  the  principal  mansion.  An  inn-yard  extended  before 
the  door  of  the  decent  little  jointure-house,  even  amidst 
the  remnants  of  the  holly  hedges  which  had  screened  the 
lady's  garden.  Then  a  broad,  raw-looking,  new-made  road 
intruded  itself  up  the  little  glen,  instead  of  the  old  horseway, 
so  seldom  used  that  it  was  almost  entirely  covered  with  grass. 
It  is  a  great  enormity  of  which  gentlemen  trustees  on  the 
highways  are  sometimes  guilty,  in  adopting  the  breadth  nec- 
essary for  an  avenue  to  the  metropolis,  where  all  that  is 
required  is  an  access  to  some  sequestered  and  unpopulous 
district.  1  do  not  say  anything  of  the  expense,  that  the 
trustees  and  their  constituents  may  settle  as  they  please. 
But  the  destruction  of  sylvan  beauty  is  great,  when  the 
breadth  of  the  road  is  more  than  proportioned  to  the  vale 
through  which  it  runs,  and  lowers  of  course  the  consequence 
of  any  objects  of  wood  or  water,  or  broken  and  varied  ground, 
which  might  otherwise  attract  notice  and  give  pleasure.  A 
bubbling  runnel  by  the  side  of  one  of  these  modern  Appian 
or  Flaminian  highways  is  but  like  a  kennel,  the  little  hill  is 
diminished  to  a  hillock,  the  romantic  hillock  to  a  mole-hill, 
almost  too  small  for  sight. 

Such  an  enormity,  however,  had  destroyed  the  quiet  loneli- 
ness of  Duntarkin,*  and  intruded  its  breadth  of  dust  and 
gravel,  and  its  associations  of  "  pochays"  and  mail-coaches, 
upon  one  of  the  most  sequestered  spots  in  the  Middle  Ward 
of   Clydesdale.     The   house   was   old  and  dilapidated,  and 

*  Mr.  Lockhart  informs  us  that  this  demesne  is  sketched  from 
that  of  Carmichael,  the  ancient  mansion  of  the  noble  family  of 
Hyndford  {Laing). 

U6 


i 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  35'' 

looked  sorry  for  itself,  as  if  sensible  of  a  derogation  ;  but 
the  sign  was  strong  and  new,  and  brightly  painted,  display- 
ing a  heraldic  shield,  three  shuttles  in  a  field  diapre,  a  web 
partly  unfolded  for  crest,  and  two  stout  giants  for  supporters, 
each  "one  holding  a  weaver's  beam  proper.  To  have  display- 
ed this  monstrous  emblem  on  the  front  of  the  house  might 
have  hazarded  bringing  down  the  wall,  but  for  certain  would 
have  blocked  up  one  or  two  windows.  It  was  therefore  es- 
tablished independent  of  the  mansion,  being  displayed  in  an 
iron  framework,  and  suspended  upon  two  posts,  with_  as 
much  wood  and  iron  about  it  as  would  have  builded  a  brig  ; 
and  there  it  hung,  creaking,  groaning  and  screaming  in 
every  blast  of  wind,  and  frightening  for  five  miles'  distance, 
for  aught  I  know,  the  nests  of  thrushes  and  linnets,  the 
ancient  denizens  of  the  little  glen. 

When  I  entered  the  place  I  was  received  by  Christie  Steele 
herself,  who  seemed  uncertain  whether  to  drop  me  in  the 
kitchen  or  usher  me  into  a  separate  apartment.  As  I  called 
for  tea,  with  something  rather  more  substantial  than  bread  and 
butter,  and  spoke  of  supping  and  sleeping,  Christie  at  last 
inducted  me  into  the  room  where  she  herself  had  been  sitting, 
probably  the  only  one  which  had  a  fire,  though  the  mouth 
was  October.  This  answered  my  plan  ;  and,  as  she  was 
about  to  remove  her  spinning-wheel,  I  beggid  she  would 
have  the  goodness  to  remain  and  make  my  tea,  adding,  that 
I  liked  the  sound  of  the  wheel,  and  desired  not  to  disturb 
her  housewife  thrift  in  the  least. 

f  ''  I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  she  replied,  in  a  dry  j'evecJieione,  which 

^  carried  me  back  twenty  years,  "  I  am  nane  of  thae  heartsome 
landleddies  that  can  tell  country  cracks,  and  make  themsells 
agreeable  ;  and  I  was  ganging  to  pit  on  a  fire  for  you  in  the 
Ked  Room  ;  but  if  it  is  your  will  to  stay  here,  he  that  pays 

'1 1    the  lawing  maun  choose  the  lodging.'^ 

,1'  I  endeavored  to  engage  her  in  conversation  ;  but  though 

she  answered  with  a  kind  of  stiff  civility,  I  could  get  her 
into  no  freedom  of  discourse,  and  she  began  to  look  at  her 
wheel  and  at  the  door  more  than  once,  as  if  she  meditated  a 
retreat.  I  was  obliged  therefore  to  proceed  to  some  special 
questions  that  might  have  interest  for  a  person  whose  ideas 
were  probably  of  a  very  bounded  description. 

I  looked  round  the  apartment,  being  the  same  in  which  I 
had  last  seen  my  poor  mother.  The  author  of  the  family 
history,  formerly  mentioned,  had  taken  great  credit  to  him- 
self for  the  improvements  he  had  made  in  this  same  joint- 
urehouse  of  Duntarkin,  and  how,  upon  his  marriage,  when 


368  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

his  mother  took  possession  of  the  same  as  her  jointure-house, 
"  to  his  great  charges  and  expenses  he  caused  box  the 
walls  of  the  great  parlor  (in  which  I  was  now  sitting),  em- 
panel the  same,  and  plaster  the  roof,  finishing  the  apartment 
with  ane  concave  chimney,  and  decorating  the  same  with 
pictures,  and  a  barometer  and  thermometer."  And  in  par- 
ticular, which  his  good  mother  used  to  say  she  prized  above 
all  the  rest,  he  had  caused  his  own  portraiture  be  limned  over 
the  mantelpiece  by  a  skilful  hand.  And  in  good  faith,  there 
he  remained  still,  liaving  much  the  visage  which  I  was  dis- 
posed to  ascribe  to  him  on  the  evidence  of  his  handwriting — 
grim  and  austere,  yet  not  without  a  cast  of  shrewdness 
and  determination  ;  in  armor,  though  he  never  wore  it,  I 
fancy  ;  one  hand  on  an  open  book,  and  one  resting  on  the 
hilt  of  his  sword,  though  I  daresay  his  head  never  ached 
with  reading  nor  his  limbs  with  fencing. 

''  That  picture  is  painted  on  the  wood,  madam,"  said  I. 

"Ay,  sir,  or  its  like  it  would  not  have  been  left  there. 
They  took  a'  they  could." 

"  Mr.  Treddle's  creditors,  you  mean  ?"  said  I. 

"  Na,"  replied  she  drily,  "  the  creditors  of  another  family, 
that  sweepit  cleaner  than  this  poor  man's,  because  I  fancy 
there  was  less  to  gather." 

"  An  older  family,  perhaps,  and  probably  more  remembered 
and  regretted  than  later  possessors." 

Christie  here  settled  herself  in  her  seat,  and  pulled  her 
wheel  towards  her.  I  had  given  her  something  interesting 
for  her  thoughts  to  dwell  upon,  and  her  wheel  was  a  mechani- 
cal accompaniment  on  such  occasions,  the  revolutions  of 
which  assisted  her  in  the  explanation  of  her  ideas. 

"Mair  regretted — mair  missed  !  I  liked  ane  of  the  auld 
family  very  weel,  but  I  winna  say  that  for  them  a'.  How  should 
they  be  mair  missed  than  the  Treddleses  ?  The  cotton  mill 
was  such  a  thing  for  the  country  !  The  mair  bairns  a  cottar 
body  had  the  better  :  they  would  make  their  awn  keep  frae  the 
time  they  were  five  years  auld  ;  and  a  widow  wi'  three  or 
four  bairns  was  a  wealthy  woman  in  the  time  of  the  Tred- 
dleses." 

"  But  the  health  of  these  poor  children,  my  good  friend — 
their  education  and  religious  instruction " 

"  For  healtli,"  said  Christie,  looking  gloomily  at  me,  ''ye 
maun  ken  little  of  the  warld,  sir,  if  ye  dinna  ken  that  the 
nealth  of  the  poor  man's  body,  as  weel  as  his  youth  and  his 
3trength,  are  all  at  the  command  of  the  rich  man's  purse. 
There  never  was  a  trade  so  unhealthy  yet,  but  men  would 


10| 

1 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  359 

fight  to  get  wark  ut  it,  for  twa  pennies  a  day  aboon  the  com- 
mon wage.  But  the  bairns  were  reasonably  weel  cared  for 
in  the  way  of  air  and  exercise,  and  a  very  responsible  youth 
heard  them  their  carritch,  and  gied  them  lessons  in  Eeed- 
iemadeasy.*  Now,  what  did  they  ever  get  before  ?  Maybe 
on  a  winter  day  they  wad  be  called  out  to  beat  the  wood  for 
cocks  or  sic-like,  and  then  the  starving  weans  would  maybe 
get  a  bite  of  broken  bread,  and  maybe  no,  just  as  the  butler 
was  in  humor — that  was  a'  they  got." 

"  They  were  not,  then,  a  very  kind  family  to  the  poor, 
these  old  possessors  ?  "  said  I,  somewhat  bitterly  ;  for  I  had 
expected  to  hear  my  ancestors'  praises  recorded,  though  I 
certainly  despaired  of  being  regaled  with  my  own. 

"They  werena  ill  to  them,  sir,  and  that  is  aye  something. 
They  were  just  decent  bien  bodies  :  ony  poor  creature  that 
had  face  to  beg  got  an  awmous  and  welcome  ;  they  that 
were  shame-faced  gaed  by,  and  twice  as  welcome.  But  they 
keepit  an  honest  walk  before  God  and  man,  the  Croftangrys, 
and,  as  I  said  before,  if  they  did  little  good,  they  did  as  lit- 
tle ill.  They  lifted  their  rents  and  spent  them,  called  in 
their  kain  and  eat  them,  gaed  to  the  kirk  of  a  Sunday, 
bowed  civilly  if  folk  took  aff  their  bannets  as  they  gaed  by, 
and  lookit  as  black  as  sin  at  them  that  keepit  them  on." 
"  These  are  their  arms  that  you  have  on  the  sign  ?" 
"What !  on  the  painted  board  that  is  skirling  and  groan- 
ing at  the  door  ?  Na,  these  are  Mr.  Treddles's  arms,  though 
they  look  as  like  legs  as  arms  ;  ill-pleased  I  was  at  the  tule 
thing,  that  cost  as  muckle  as  would  hae  repaired  the  house 
from  the  wa'  stane  to  the  rigging-tree.  But  if  I  am  to  bide 
here,  I'll  hae  a  decent  board  wi'  a  pnnch-bowl  on  it." 
"  Is  there  a  doubt  of  your  staying  here,  Mrs.  Steele  ?" 
"  Dinna  mistress  me,"  said  the  cross  old  woman,  whose 
fingers  were  now  plying  their  thrift  in  a  manner  which  indi- 
cated nervous  irritation  :  "  there  was  nae  luck  in  the  land 
since  Luckie  turned  Mistress,  and  Mistress  my  Leddy  ; 
and  as  for  staying  here,  if  it  concern  you  to  ken,  I  may  stay 
if  I  can  pay  a  hundred  pund  sterling  for  the  lease,  and  I 
may  flit  if  I  canna,  and  so  gude-e'en  to  you,  Christie,"  and 
round  went  the  wheel  with  much  activity. 

"  And  you  like  the  trade  of  keeping  a  public-house  ?" 
"I  can  scarce  say  that,"  she  replied.     "But  worthy  Mr. 
Prendergast  is  clear  of  its  lawfulness,  and  I  hae  gotten  used 
to  it,  and  made  a  decent  living,  though  I  never  make  out  a 

*  *'  Reading  made  Easy,"  usually  so  pronounced  in  Scotland. 


360  WAV^BLEY  NOVELS 

fause  reckoning,  or  give  ony  ane  the  means  to  disorder  rea- 
son in  my  house." 

"  Indeed  I"  said  I ;  ''in  that  case  there  is  no  wonder  you 
have  not  made  up  the  hundred  pounds  to  purchase  the 
lease." 

"  How  do  you  ken,"  said  she,  sharply,  "that  I  might  not 
have  had  a  hundred  punds  of  my  ain  fee  ?  If  I  have  it  not, 
I  am  sure  it  is  my  ain  faut ;  and  I  wuuna  ca'  it  faut  neither, 
for  it  gaed  to  her  wha  was  weel  entitled  to  a'  my  service." 
Again  she  pulled  stoutly  at  the  flax,  and  the  wheel  went 
smartly  round. 

"  This  old  gentlemen,"  said  I,  fixing  my  eye  on  the 
painted  panel,  seems  to  have  had  his  arms  painted  as  well  as 
Mr.  Treddles — that  is,  if  that  painting  in  the  corner  be  a 
scutcheon." 

"  Ay — ay,  cushion,  just  sae,  they  maun  a'  hae  their  cush- 
ions :  there's  sma'  gentry  without  that ;  and  so  the  arms,  as 
they  ca'  them,  of  the  house  of  Glentauner  may  be  seen  on 
an  auld  stane  in  the  west  end  of  the  house.  But  to  do  them 
justice,  they  didna  propale  sae  muckle  about  them  as  poor 
Mr.  Treddles  did;  it's  like  they  were  better  used  to  them." 

''  Very  likely.  Are  there  any  of  the  old  family  in  life, 
good  wife  ?" 

"  No,"  she  replied  ;  then  added,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion— "  not  that  I  know  of,"  and  the  wheel,  which  had  in- 
termitted, began  again  to  revolve. 

"  Gone  abroad,  perhaps  ?  "  I  suggested. 

She  now  looked  up  and  faced  me.  "  No,  sir.  There  were 
three  sons  of  the  last  laird  of  Glentanner,  as  he  was  then 
called  ;  John  and  William  were  hopeful  young  gentlemen, 
but  they  died  early — one  of  a  decline,  brought  on  by  the 
mizzles,  the  other  lost  his  life  in  a  fever.  It  would  hae  been 
lucky  for  mony  ane  that  Chrystal  had  gane  the  same  gate." 

"  (3h  !  he  must  have  been  the  young  spendthrift  that  sold 
the  property  ?  Well,  but  you  should  not  have  such  an  ill- 
will  against  him  :  remember,  necessity  has  no  law  ;  and  then, 
good  wife,  he  was  not  more  culpable  than  Mr.  Treddles, 
whom  you  are  so  sorry  for." 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  sae,  sir,  for  his  mother's  sake ;  but 
Mr.  Treddles  was  in  trade,  and  though  he  had  no  preceese 
right  to  do  so,  yet  tliere  was  some  warrant  for  a  man  being 
expensive  that  imagined  he  was  making  a  mint  of  money. 
But  this  unhappy  lad  devoured  his  patrimony,  when  he 
kenned  that  he  was  living  like  a  ratten  in  a  Dunlap  cheese, 
and  diminishing   his  means   at  a'  hands,     I  cauna  bide  tO' 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  361 

think  on't."  With  this  she  broke  out  into  a  snatch  of  a 
ballad  ;  but  little  of  mirth  was  there  either  iu  the  tone  or 
the  expression  : — 

"  For  he  did  spend,  and  make  an  end 

Of  gear  that  his  forefathers  wan  ; 
Of  land  and  ware  he  made  him  bare, 
So  speak  nae  mair  of  the  auld  gudeman." 

"Come,  dame,"  said  I/'' it  is  a  long  lane  that  has  no 
turning.  I  will  not  keep  from  you  that  I  have  heard  some- 
thing of  this  poor  fellow,  Chrystal  Croftangry.  He  has 
sown  his  wild  oats,  as  they  say,  and  has  settled  into  a  steady 
respectable  man." 

"And  wha  tell'd  ye  that  tidings?''  said  she,  looking 
sharply  at  me. 

"  Not  perhaps  the  best  judge  in  the  world  of  his  char- 
acter, for  it  was  himself,  dame." 

"And  if  he  tell'd  you  truth,  it  was  a  virtue  he  did  not  aye 
nse  to  practise,"  said  Christie. 

"The  devil!"  said  I,  considerably  nettled;  "all  the 
world  held  him  to  be  a  man  of  honor." 

"Ay — ay  !  he  would  hae  shot  onybody  wi'  his  pistols  and 
his  guns  that  have  evened  him  to  be  a  liar.  But  if  he 
promised  to  pay  an  honest  tradesman  the  next  term-day,  did 
he  keep  his  word  then  ?  And  if  he  promised  a  puir  silly 
lass  to  make  gude  her  shame,  did  he  speak  truth  then  ? 
And  what  is  that  but  being  a  liar,  and  a  black-hearted 
deceitful  liar  to  boot  ?" 

My  indignation  was  rising,  but'  I  strove  to  suppress  it ;  in- 
deed, I  should  only  have  afforded  my  tormentor  a  triumph 
by  an  angry  reply.  I  partly  suspected  she  began  to  recog- 
nize me  ;  yet  she  testified  so  little  emotion,  that  I  could  not 
think  my  suspicion  well  founded.  I  went  on,  therefore,  to 
say,  in  a  tone  as  indifferent  as  I  could  command,  "Well, 
goodwife,  I  see  you  will  believe  no  good  of  this  Chrystal  of 
,  yours  till  he  comes  back  and  buys  a  good  farm  on  the  estate, 
and  makes  you  his  housekeeper." 

The  old  woman  dropped  her  thread,  folded  her  hands,  as 
she  looked  up  to  heaven  with  a  face  of  apprehension. 
"The  Lord,"  she  exclaimed,  "forbid!  The  Lord  in  His 
mercy  forbid  !  Oh,  sir  !  if  you  really  know  this  unlucky 
man,  persuade  him  to  settle  where  folk  ken  the  good  that 
you  say  he  has  come  to,  and  dinna  ken  the  evil  of  his  former 
days.  He  used  to  be  proud  enough — 0  dinna  let  him  come 
here,  even  for  his  own  sake.  He  used  auce  to  have  some 
pride." 


362  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

Here  she  ouce  more  drew  the  wheel  close  to  her,  and  began 
to  pull  at  the  flax  with  both  hands.  "  Dinna  let  him  come 
here,  to  be  looked  down  upon  by  ony  that  may  be  left  of  his 
aiild  reiving  companions,  and  to  see  the  decent  folk  that  he 
looked  over  his  nose  at  look  over  their  noses  at  him,  baith  at 
kirk  and  market.  Dinna  let  him  come  to  his  ain  country 
to  be  made  a  tale  about  when  ony  neighbor  points  him  out 
to  another,  and  tells  what  he  is,  and  what  he  was,  and  how 
he  wrecked  a  dainty  estate,  and  brought  harlots  to  the  door- 
cheek  of  his  father's  house,  till  he  made  it  nae  residence  for* 
his  mother  ;  and  how  it  had  been  foretauld  by  a  servant  of 
his  ain  house  that  he  was  a  ne'er-do  weel,  and  a  child  of 
perdition,  and  how  her  words  were  made  good,  and " 

"Stop  there,  goodwife,  if  you  please,"  said  I;  "you 
have  said  as  much  as  I  can  well  remember,  and  more  than  it 
may  be  safe  to  repeat.  I  can  use  a  great  deal  of  freedom 
with  the  gentleman  we  speak  of  ;  but  I  think,  were  any 
other  person  to  carry  him  half  of  your  message,  I  would 
scarce  ensure   his  personal  safety.     And  now,  as  I  see  the 

night   is  settled    to  be  a  fine  one,  I  will  walk  on  to , 

where  I  must  meet  a  coach  to-morrow,  as  it  passes  to  Edin- 
burgh." 

So  saying,  I  paid  my  moderate  reckoning,  and  took  my 
leave,  without  being  able  to  discover  whether  the  prejudiced 
and  hard-hearted  old  woman  did,  or  did  not,  suspect  the 
identity  of  her  guest  with  the  Chrystal  Croftangry  against 
whom  she  harbored  so  much  dislike. 

The  night  was  fine  and  frosty,  though,  when  I  pretended 
to  see  what  its  character  was,  it  might  have  rained  like  the  [, 
deluge.  I  only  made  the  excuse  to  escape  from  old  Christie 
Steele.  The  horses  which  run  races  in  the  Corso  at  Eome 
without  any  riders,  in  order  to  stimulate  their  exertion, 
carry  each  his  own  spurs,  namely,  small  balls  of  steel,  with 
sharp  projecting  spikes,  which  are  attached  to  loose  straps 
of  leather,  and,  flying  about  in  the  violence  of  the  agitation, 
keep  the  horse  to  his  speed  by  pricking  him  as  they  strike 
against  his  flanks.  The  old  woman's  reproaches  had  the 
same  effect  on  me,  and  urged  me  to  a  rapid  pace,  as  if  it 
had  been  possible  to  escaf)e  from  my  own  recollections. 
In  the  best  days  of  my  life,  when  I  won  one  or  two  hard  — 
walking-matches,  I  doubt  if  I  ever  walked  so  fast  as  I  didj 
betwixt  the  Treddles  Arms  and  the  borough  town  for  which] 
I  was  bound.  Though  the  night  was  cold,  I  was  warm 
enough  by  the  time  I  got  to  my  inn  ;  and  it  required  a 
refreshing  draught  of  porter,  with  half  an   hour's   repose, 


ioBe 
spp 

Id 

M 

tins 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  363 

ere  I  could  determine  to  give  no  farther  thought  to  Christie 
and  her  opinions  than  those  of  any  other  vulgar,  preju- 
diced old  woman.  I  resolved  at  last  to  treat  the  thing  en 
bagatelle,  and,  calling  for  writing-materials,  I  folded  up  a 
check  for  £100,  with  these  lines  on  the  envelope: 

"  Chrystal,  the  ne'er-do-weel, 
Child  destined  to  the  dell, 
Sends  this  to  Christie  Steele." 

And  I  was  so  much  pleased  with  this  new  mode  of  viewing 
the  subject,  that  I  regretted  the  lateness  of  the  hour  pre- 
vented my  finding  a  person  to  carry  the  letter  express  to  its 
destination. 

But  with  the  morning  cool  reflection  came. 

I  considered  that  the  money,  and  probably  more,  was 
actually  due  by  me  on  my  mother's  account  to  Christie,  who 
had  lent  it  in  a  moment  of  great  necessity,  and  that  the  re- 
turning it  in  a  light  or  ludicrous  manner  was  not  unlikely  to 
prevent  so  touchy  and  punctilious  a  person  from  accepting  a 
debt  which  was  most  justly  her  due,  and  which  it  became  me 
particularly  to  see  satisfied.  Sacrificing,  then,  my  triad 
with  little  regret,  for  it  looked  better  by  candlelight,  and 
through  the  medium  of  a  pot  of  porter,  than  it  did  by  day- 
light, and  with  bohea  for  a  menstruum,  I  determined  to  em- 
ploy Mr.  Fairscribe's  mediation  in  buying  up  the  lease  of 
the  little  inn,  and  conferring  it  upon  Christie  in  the  way 
which  should  make  it  most  acceptable  to  her  feelings.  It  is 
only  necessary  to  add,  that  my  plan  succeeded,  and  that 
Widow  Steele  even  yet  keeps  the  Treddles  Arms.  Do  not 
say,  therefore,  that  1  have  been  disingenuous  with  you,  read- 
er ;  since,  if  I  have  not  told  all  the  ill  of  myself  I  might  have 
done,  I  have  indicated  to  you  a  person  able  and  willing  to 
supply  the  blank,  by  relating  all  my  delinquencies,  as  well 
as  my  misfortunes. 

In  the  mean  time,  I  totally  abandoned  the  idea  of  redeem- 
ing any  part  of  my  paternal  property,  and  resolved  to  take 
Christie  Steele's  advice,  as  young  Nerval  does  Glenalvon's, 
*'  although  it  sounded  harshly/' 


CHAPTER  V 

MR.    CEOFTANGRY  SETTLES   IN   THE   CANOGATB 

If  you  will  know  my  house, 
"  Tis  at  the  tuft  of  olives  here  hard  by. 

As  You  Like  It. 

By  a  revolution  of  humor  which  I  am  unable  to  account  foi, 
I  changed  my  mind  entirely  on  my  plan3  of  life,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  disa2)pointmeiit  the  history  of  which  fills  the 
last  chapter.  I  began  to  discover  that  the  country  would 
not  at  all  suit  me;  for  I  had  relinquished  field-sports,  and 
felt  no  inclination  whatever  to  farming,  the  ordinary  voca- 
tion of  country  gentlemen  ;  besides  that,  I  had  no  talent  for 
assisting  either  candidate  in  case  of  an  expected  election, 
and  saw  no  amusement  in  the  duties  of  a  road  trustee,  a 
commissioner  of  supply,  or  even  in  the  magisterial  functions 
of  the  bench.  I  had  begun  to  take  some  taste  for  reading  ; 
and  a  domiciliation  in  the  country  must  remove  me  from  the 
use  of  books,  excepting  the  small  subscription  library,  in 
which  the  very  book  which  you  want  is  uniformly  sure  to  be 
engaged. 

I  resolved,  therefore,  to  make  the  Scottish  metropolis  my 
regular  resting-place,  reserving  to  myself  to  take  occasion- 
ally those  excursions  which,  spite  of  all  I  have  said  against 
mail-coaches,  Mr.  Piper  has  rendered  so  easy.  Friend  of  our' 
life  and  of  our  leisure,  he  secures  by  despatch  against  loss  of 
time,  and  by  the  best  of  coaches,  cattle,  and  steadiest  of  dri- 
vers against  hazard  of  limb,  and  wafts  us,  as  well  as  our  let- 
ters, from  Edinburgh  to  Cape  Wrath  in  the  penning  of  a 
paragraph. 

When  my  mind  was  quite  made  up  to  make  Auld  Reekie 
my  headquarters,  reserving  the  privilege  of  exploring  in  all 
directions,  I  began  to  explore  in  good  earnest  for  the  pur- 
pose of  discovering  a  suitable  habitation.  ' '  And  whare  trew 
ye  I  gaed  ?  "  as  Sir  Pertinax  says.  Not  to  George's  Square, 
nor  to  Charlotte  Square,  nor  to  the  old  New  Town,  nor  to 
the  new  New  Town,  nor  to  the  Calton  Hill — I  went  to  the 
Canongate,  and  to  the  very  portion  of  the  Canongate  in  which 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  3Q5 

I  had  formerly  been  immured,  like  the  errant  knight,  pris- 
oner in  some  enchanted  castle,  where  spells  have  made  the 
ambient  air  impervious  to  the  unhappy  captive,  although  the 
organs  of  sight  encountered  no  obstacle  to  his  free  passage. 

Why  I  should  have  thouglit  of  pitching  my  tent  here  I 
cannot  tell.  Perhaps  it  was  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  free- 
dom, where  I  had  so  long  endured  the  bitterness  of  restraint ; 
on  the  principle  of  the  officer  who,  after  he  had  retired  from 
the  army,  ordered  his  servant  to  continue  to  call  him  at 
the  hour  of  parade,  simply  that  he  might  have  the  pleasure 
of  saying — "  D — n  the  parade  !"  and  turning  to  the  other 
side  to  enjoy  his  slumbers.  Or  perhaps  I  expected  to  find 
in  the  vicinity  some  little  old-fashioned  house,  having  some- 
what of  the  rus  in  urbe  which  I  was  ambitious  of  enjoying. 
Enough,  I  went,  as  aforesaid,  to  the  Canongate. 

I  stood  by  the  kennel,  of  which  I  have  formerly  spoken, 
and,  my  mind  being  at  ease,  my  bodily  organs  were  more 
delicate.  I  was  more  sensible  than  heretofoie  that,  like  the 
trade  of  Pompey  in  Measitre  for  Measure,  it  did  in  some 
sort ''  pah,  an  ounce  of  civet,  good  apothecary  !"  Turn- 
ing from  thence,  my  steps  naturally  directed  themselves  to 
my  own  humble  apartment,  where  my  little  Highland  land- 
lady, as  dapper  and  as  tight  as  ever  (for  old  women  wear  a 
hundred  times  better  than  the  hard-wrought  seniors  of  the 
masculine  sex),  stood  at  the  door,  "  teedling "'  to  herself  a 
Highland  song  as  she  shook  a  table-napkin  over  the  fore- 
stair,  and  then  proceeded  to  fold  it  up  neatly  for  future 
service. 

■'  How  do  you,  Janet  ?" 

''  Thank  ye,  good  sir,"  answered  my  old  friend,  without 
looking  at  me  ;  ''but  ye  might  as  weel  say  Mrs.  MacEvoy, 
for  she  is  na  a'body's  Shanet — umph." 

■'  You  must  be  yny  Janet,  though,  for  all  that.  Have 
(you  forgot  me  ?  Do  you  not  remember  Chrystal  Croft- 
angry  ? "  , 

The  light  kind-hearted  creature  threw  her  napkin  into 
the  opin  door,  skipped  down  the  stair  like  a  fairy,  three 
steps  at  once,  seized  me  by  the  hands — both  hands — jumped 
np,  and  actually  kissed  me.  I  was  a  little  ashamed  ;  but 
what  swain,  of  somewhere  inclining  to  sixty,  could  resist 
the  ^advances  of  a  fair  contemporary  ?  So  we  allowed  the 
full  degree  of  kindness  to  the  meeting — Jioiii  soit  qui  mal  y 
fense — and  then  Janet  entered  instantly  upon  business. 
"An'  ye'll  gae  in,  man,  and  see  your  auld  lodgings,  nae 
doubt,  and  Shanet  will  pay  ye  the  fifteen  shillings  of  change 


!t. 


366  WAVERLET  N0V£L8 

that  ye  ran  away  without,  and  without  bidding  Shanet  goo^  = 
day.  But  never  mind  (nodding  good-humoredly),  Shanet 
saw  you  were  carried  for  the  time." 

By  this  time  we  were  in  my  old  quarters,  and  Janet,  witl 
her  bottle  of  cordial  in  one  hand  and  the  glass  in  the  other  , 
had  forced  on  me  a  dram  of  usqebaugh,  distilled  with  saf 
fron  and  other  herbs,  after  some  old-fashioned  Highlan( 
receipt.  Then  was  unfolded,  out  of  many  a  little  scrap  o 
paper,  the  reserved  sum  of  fifteen  shillings,  which  Jane 
had  treasured  for  twenty  years  and  upwards.  i 

"Here  they  are,"  she  said,  in  honest  triumph,  ''just  thJEi 
same  I  was  holding  out  to  ye  when  ye  ran  as  if  ye  had  bee:  ]i 
fey.  Shanet  has  had  siller,  and  Shanet  has  wanted  silleiji, 
mony  a  time  since  that ;  and  the  ganger  has  come,  and  thi 
factor  has  come,  and  the  butcher  and  baker — Cot  bless  us 
— just  like  to  tear  poor  auld  Shanet  to  pieces,  but  she  toolii 
good  care  of  Mr,  Croftangry's  fifteen  shillings.  ,  m 

"  But  what  if  I  had  never  come  back,  Janet  ?" 

"  Och,  if  Shanet  had  heard  you  were  dead,  she  would  ha 
gien  it  to  the  poor  of  the  chapel,  to  pray  for  Mr.  Crof 
angry,"  said  Janet,  crossing  herself,  for  she  was  a  Catholii 
"  You  maybe  do  not  think  it  would  do  you  cood,  but  tl 
blessing  of  the  poor  can  never  do  no  harm." 

I  agreed  heartily  in  Janet's  conclusion  ;  and,  as  to  hai 
desired  her  to  consider  the  hoard  as  her  own  properj 
would  have  been  an  indelicate  return  to  her  for  the  uprigh 
ness  of  her  conduct,  I  requested  her  to  dispose  of  it  as  si 
had  proposed  to  do  in  the  event  of  my  death — that  is. 
she  knew  any  poor  people  of  merit  to  whom  it  might 
useful. 

"  Ower  mony  of  them,"  raising  the  corner  of  her  check 
apron  to  her  eyes — "e'en  ower  mony  of  them,  Mr.  Croj  ^ 
angry.  Och,  ay,  there  is  the  puir  Highland  creatures  fr  ,pj| 
Glenshee,  that  cam  down  for  the  harvest,  and  are  lyi)  ^. 
wi'  the  fever — five  shillings  to  them ;  and  half-a-crown 
Bessie  MacEvoy,  whose  coodman,  puir  creature,  died  of  tj 
frost,  being  a  shairman,  for  a'  the  whiskey  he  could  drill 
to  keep  it  out  o'  his  stamoch  ;  and " 

But  she  suddenly  interrupted  the  bead-roll  of  her  p: 
posed  charities,  and  assuming  a  very  sage  look,  and  pri; 
ming  up  her  little  chattering  mouth,  she  went  on  in| 
different  tone — "But,  och,  Mr.  Croftangry,  betJiink 
whether  ye  will  not  need  a'  this  siller  yoursell,  and  ma; 
look  back  and  think  lang  for  ha'en  kiven  it  away,  whilki 
a  creat  sin  to  forthink  a  wark  o'  charity,  and  also  is  unlucl 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  367 

-'  md  moreover  is  not  the  thought  of  a  shentleman's  son  like 

^oursell,  dear.     And  I  say  this,  that  ye  may  think  a  bit,  for 

'our  mother's  son  kens  that  ye  are  no  so  careful  as  you 

hould  be  of  the  gear,  and  I  hae  tauld  ye  of  it  before, 

ewel/' 

■'  -^     I  assured  her  I  could  easily  spare  the  money,  without  risk 

™  )f  future  repentance  ;  and  she  went  on  to  infer  that,  in  such 

■"P  i  case,  "  Mr.  Croftangry  had  grown  a  rich  man  in  foreign 

J'"'  )arts,  and  was  free  of  his  troubles  with  messengers  and  sheriff- 

)fficers,  and   sic-like  scum  of  the  earth  ;  and  Shanet  Mac- 

!ttl  Savoy's  mothers  daughter  be   a  blythe  woman    to   hear  it. 

'^;|*  3ut  if  Mr.  Croftangry  was  in  trouble,  there  was  his  room, 

^|''s  md  his  pod,  and  Shanet  to  Avait  on  him,  and  tak  payment 

^''i'i  vhen  it  was  quite  convenient." 

«"     I  explained  to  Janet  my  situation,  in  which  she  expressed 

^t«  inqualified  delight.     I  then  proceeded  to  inquire  into  her 

)wn  circumstances,  and,  though  she  spoke  cheerfully  and 

iontentedly,  I  could  see  they  were   precarious.     I  had  paid 

''  l>|nore  than  was  due  ;  other  lodgers  fell  into  an  opposite  error, 

'  md  forgot  to  pay  Janet  at  all.     Then,  Janet  being  ignorant 

)f  all  indirect  modes  of  screwing  money  out  of  her  lodgers, 

)thers  in  the  same  line  of  life,  who  were  sharper  than  the 

loor  simple  Highlandwoman,  were  enabled  to  let  their  apart- 

nents  cheaper  in  appearnce,   though    the   inmates  usually 

'ound  them  twice  as  dear  in  the  long  run. 

As  I  had  already  destined  my  old  landlady  to  be  my  house- 

•  ceeper  and  governante,  knowing  her  honesty,  good-nature, 

rad,  although  a  Scotchwoman,  her  cleanliness  and  excellent 

-    ;emper,  saving  the  short  and  hasty  expressions  of  anger  which 

Highlanders  call  a  •'*  fuff,"  I  now  proposed  the  plan  to  her 

-  n  such  a  way  as  was  likely  to  make  it  most  acceptable.    Very 

icceptable  as  the  proposal  was,  as  I  could  plainly  see,  Janet, 

lowever,  took  a  day  to  consider  upon  it ;  and  her  reflections 

igainst  our  next  meeting  had  suggested  only  one  objection, 

vhich  was  singular  enough. 

lo:i '    "  My  honor,"  so  she  now  termed  me,  ''  would  pe  for  biding 

1  dtiiij.n  some  fine  street  apout  the  town  ;  now  Shanet  wad  ill  like 

■-o  live  in  a  place  where  polish,  and  sheriffs,  and  bailiffs,  and 

tic  thieves  and  trash  of  the  world,  could  tak  puir  shentle- 

nen  by  the  throat,  just  because  they  wanted  a  wheen  dollars 

ill  13  |.n  the  sporran.     She  had  lived  in  the  bonny  glen  of  Toman- 

iiii;'l;houlick — Cot,  an  ony  of  the  vermint  had  come  there,  her 

''  "ather  wad  hae  wared  a  shot  on  them,  and  he  could  hit  a 

;  3uck  within  as  mony   measured  yards  as  e'er  a  man  of  his 

.;  )lan.     And  the  place  here  was  so  quiet  frae  them,  they  durst 


m  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

na  put  tlieir  nose  ower  the  gutter.  Shanet  owed  nobody  a 
boddle,  put  she  couldna  pide  to  see  honest  folk  and  pretty 
shentlemen  forced  away  to  prison  whether  they  would  or 
no  ;  and  then  if  Shanet  was  to  lay  her  tangs  ower  ane  of  the 
ragamutfins'  heads,  it  would  be,  maybe,  that  the  law  would 
gie't  a  hard  name." 

One  thing  I  have  learned  in  life — never  to  speak  sense 
when  nonsense  will  answer  the  purpose  as  well.  I  should 
have  had  great  difficulty  to  convince  this  practical  and  dis- 
interested admirer  and  vindicator  of  liberty  that  arrests 
seldom  or  never  were  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  of  Edinburgh, 
and  to  satisfy  her  of  their  justice  and  necessity  would  have 
been  as  difficult  as  to  convert  her  to  the  Protestant  faith.  I 
therefore  assured  her,  my  intention,  if  I  could  get  a  suitable 
habitation,  was  to  remain  in  the  quarter  where  she  at  present 
dwelt.  Janet  gave  three  skips  on  the  floor,  and  uttered  asi 
many  short,  shrill  yells  of  joy  ;  yet  doubt  almost  instantly' 
returned,  and  she  insisted  on  knowing  what  jiossible  reasoi ' 
I  could  have  for  making  my  residence  where  few  lived,  savi 
those  whose  misfortunes  drove  them  thither.  It  occurred 
me  to  answer  her  by  recounting  the  legend  of  the  rise  of  my 
family,  and  of  our  deriving  our  name  from  a  particular  place 
near  Holyrood  Palace.  This,  which  would  have  appearec 
to  most  people  a  very  absurd  reason  for  choosing  a  residence, 
was  entirely  satisfactory  to  Janet  MacEvoy. 

"  Ocli,  nae  doubt !  ii'  it  was  the  land  of  her  fathers,  thai 
was  nae  mair  to  be  said.     Put  it  was  queer  that  her  famil; 
estate   should   just  lie   at   the  town  tail,  and  covered  wit 
houses,  where   the   king's   cows.  Cot  bless   them   hide   ar 
horn  !  used  to  craze  upon.     It  was  strange  changes."     Sh 
mused  a  little,  and  then  added,  "  Put  it  is  something  bette 
wd'  Croftangry  when  the  changes  is  frae  the  field  to   tl 
habited  place,  and  not  from  the  place  of  habitation  to  th 
desert  ;  for  Shanet,  her  nainsell,  kent  a  glen  wdiere  thei 
were  men  as  weel  as  there  may  be  in  Croftangry,  and  if  thei 
werena  altogether  sae  mony  of  them,  they  were  as  good  me 
iA  their  tartan  as  the  others  in  their  broadcloth.     And  thei 
were  houses  too,  and  if  they  were  not  biggit  with  stane  ai 
lime,  and  lofted  like  the  honses  at    Croftangry,  yet   the 
served  the  purpose  of  them  that  lived  there;  and  mony™' 
braw   bonnet,  and   mony  a  silk   snood,  and  comely   whi; 
curch  would  come  out  to  gang  to  kirk  or  chapel  on  tl 
Lord's  day,  and  little  bairns  toddling  after  ;  and  now — ocj 
och,  ohellany,  ohonari  !  the  glen  is  desolate,  and  the  bra 
snoods  and  bonnets  are  gane,  and  the  Saxon's  house  stant 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE 


■liull  and  lonely,  like  the  single  bare-breasted  rock  that  the 
falcon  builds  on— the  falcon  that  drives  the  heath-bird  frae 
:he  glen." 

Janet,  like  many  Highlanders,  was  full  of  imagination  ; 
md,  when  melancholy  themes  came  upon  her,  expressed  her- 
self almost  poetically,  owing  to  the  genius  of  the  Celtic 
anguage  in  which  she  thought,  and  in  which,  doubtless,  she 
»voLild  have  spoken,  had  I  understood  Gaelic.  In  two 
iiinutes  the  shade  of  gloom  and  regret  had  passed  from  her 
rood-humored  features,  and  she  was  again  the  little  busy, 
prating,  important  old  woman,  undisputed  owner  of  one  flat 
3f  a  small  tenement  in  the  Abbey  Yard,  and  about  to  be 
promoted  to  be  housekeeper  to  an  elderly  bachelor  gentle- 
(iian,  Ohrystal  Croftangry,  Esq. 

It  was  not  long  before  Janet's  local  researches  found  out 
3xactly  the  sort  of  place  I  wanted,  and  there  we  settled. 
Janet  was  afraid  I  would  not  be  satisfied,  because  it  is  not 
exactly  part  of  Croftangry  ;  but  I  stopped  her  doubts,  by 
assuring  her  it  had  been  part  and  pendicle  thereof  in  my 
forefathers'  time,  which  passed  very  well. 

I  do  not  intend  to  possess  any  one  with  an  exact  knowl- 
edge of  my  lodging  ;  though,  as  Bobadil  says,  "  I  care  not 
who  knows  it,  since  the  cabin  is  convenient."  But  I  may 
state  in  general,  that  it  is  a  house  "  within  itself,"  or,  ac- 
cording to  a  newer  phraseology  in  advertisements,  "self- 
contained,"  has  a  garden  of  near  half  an  acre,  and  a  patch 
of  ground  with  trees  in  front.  It  boasts  five  rooms  and  ser- 
vants' apartments,  looks  in  front  upon  the  palace,  and 
from  behind  towards  the  hill  and  crags  of  the  King's  Park. 
Fortunately  the  place  had  a  name,  which,  with  a  little  im- 
provement, served  to  countenance  the  legend  which  I  had 
imposed  on  Janet,  and  would  not  perhaps  have  been  sorry  if 
I  had  been  able  to  impose  on  myself.  It  was  called  Little- 
croft  ;  we  have  dubbed  it  Little  Croftangry,  and  the  men  of 
letters  belonging  to  the  Post-Office  have  sanctioned  the 
change,  and  deliver  letters  so  addressed.  Thus  I  am  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  Chrystal  Croftangry  of  that  Ilk. 

My  establishment  consists  of  Janet,  an  under  maid-servant, 
and  a  Highland  wench  for  Janet  to  exercise  her  Gaelic  upon, 
with  a  handy  lad  who  can  lay  the  cloth,  and  take  care  be- 
sides of  a  pony,  on  which  I  find  my  way  to  Portobello  sands, 
especially  when  the  cavalry  have  a  drill ;  for,  like  an  old 
'  fool  as  I  am,  I  have  not  altogether  become  indifferent  to  the 
tramp  of  horses  and  the  flash  of  weapons,  of  which,  though 
no  professional  soldier,  it  has  been  my  fate  to  see  something 


S70  WAVERLEY  NOVELS  j 

in  my  youtli.     For  wet  mornings,  I  have  my  book  ;  is  it  fine;i,j 
weather,  I  visit,  or  I  wander  on   the  Crags,  as  the  humor  ,, 
dictates.     My  dinner  is  indeed  solitary,  yet  not  quite  so  nei-  ' 
ther ;  for,  though  Andrew  waits,  Janet,  or — as  she  is  to  all 
the  world  but  her  master  and  certain  old  Highland  gossips 
— Mrs.  MacEvoy,  attends,  bustles  about,  and  desires  to  see 
everything  is  in  first-rate  order,  and  to  tell  me.  Cot  pless  us, 
the  wonderful  news  of  the  palace  for  the  day.     When  tht 
cloth  is  removed,  and  I  light  my  cigar,  and  begin   to  bus 
band  a  pint  of  port,  or  a  g-lass  of  old  whisky  and  water,  it  is 
the  rule  of  the  house  that  Janet  takes  a  chair  at  some  dis- 
tance, and  nods  or  works  her  stocking,  as  she  may  be  diS' 
posed  ;  ready  to  speak  if  I  am  in  the  talking  humor,  anc 
sitting  quiet  as  a  mouse  if  I  am  rather  inclined  to  study  j 
book  or  the  newspaper.     At  six  precisely  she  makes  my  tea 
and  leaves  me  to  drink  it ;  and  then  occurs  an  interval  o 
time  which  most  old  bachelors  find  heavy  on  their  hands 
The  theater  is  a  good  occasional  resource,  especial  if  Wil 
Murray  acts,  or  a  bright  star  of  eminence  shines  forth  ;  bu  j| 
it  is  distant,  and  so  are  one  or  two  public  societies  to  whicl   j, 
I  belong  ;  besides,  these  evening  walks  are  all  incompatibl  y 
with  the  elbow-chair  feeling,  which  desires  some  emploj 
ment  that  may  divert  the  mind  without  fatiguing  the  body 
Under  the  influence  of  these  impressions,  I  have  som( 
times  thought  of  this  literary  undertaking.     I  must  ha^ 
been  the  Bonassus  himself  to  have   mistaken  myself  for 
genius,  yet  I  have  leisure  and  reflections  like  my  neighbor 
lam  a  borderer  also  between  two  generations,  and  can  poi 
out  more  perhaps  than  others  of  those  fading  traces  of  ant 
quity  which  are  daily  vanishing  ;  and  I  know  many  a  moi 
ern  instance  and  many  an   old  tradition,  and  therefore 
ask — 

What  ails  me,  I  may  not,  as  well  as  they, 
Rake  up  some  threadbare  tales,  that  moldering  lay 
In  chimney  corners,  wont  by  Christmas  fires 
To  read  and  rock  to  sleep  our  ancient  sires? 
No  man  his  threshold  better  knows  than  I 
Brute's  first  arrival  and  first  victory, 
St.  George's  sorrel  and  his  cross  of  blood, 
Arthur's  round  board  and  Caledonian  wood. 

No  shop  is  so  easily  set  up  as  an  antiquary's.     Like  the 
of  the  lowest  order  of  pawnbrokers,  a  commodity  of  ru£ 
iron,  a  bag  or  two  of  hobnails,  a  few  odd  shoe-buckles,  cs 
iered  kail-pots,  and  fire-irons  declared  incapable  of  servij 
are  quite  sufficient  to  set  him  up.     If  he  add  a  sheaf  or  t'l 


Hi 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  371 

''"'  )f  penny  ballads  and  broadsides,  lie  is  a  great  man — an  ex- 
lensive  trader.  And  then,  like  the  pawnbrokers  aforesaid, 
f  the  author  understands  a  little  legerdemain,  he  may,  by 
'\ftint  of  a  little  picking  and  stealing,  make  the  inside  of  his 
^"'i  ihop  a  great  deal  richer  than  the  out,  and  be  able  to  show 
"''§^ou  things  which  cause  those  who  do  not  understand  the  an- 
iquarian  trick  of  clean  conveyance  to  wonder  how  the  devil 
-","^6  came  by  them. 

It  may  be  said,  that  antiquarian  articles  interest  but  few 
justomers,  and  that  we  may  bawl  ourselves  as  rusty  as  the 
vares  we  deal  in  without  any  one  asking  the  price  of  our 
nerchandise.  But  I  do  not  rest  my  hopes  upon  this  de- 
lartment  of  my  labors  only.  I  propose  also  to  have  a  cor- 
■esponding  shop  for  sentiment,  and  dialogues,  and  disquisi- 
ion,  which  may  captivate  the  fancy  of  those  who  have  no 
•elish,  as  the  established  phrase  goes,  for  pure  antiquity— a 
iort  of  greengrocer's  stall  erected  in  front  of  my  ironmon- 
gery wares,  garlanding  the  rusty  memorials  of  ancient  times 
vith  cresses,  cabbages,  leeks,  and  water-purpie. 

As  I  have  some  idea  that  I  am  writing  too  well  to  be  under- 
stood, I  humble  myself  to  ordinary  language,  and  aver,  with 
becoming  modesty,  that  I  do  think  myself  capable  of  sus- 
;aining  a  publication  of  a  miscellaneous  nature,  as  like  to 
77/e  Spectator  or  Tlie  Guardian,  Tlie  Mirror  or  TJie  Loun- 
jer,  as  my  poor  abilities  may  be  able  to  accomplish.     Not 
Lhat  I  have  any  purpose  of  imitating  Johnson,  whose  general 
learning  and  power  of  expression  I  do  not  deny,  but  many 
Df  whose  Rambles  are  little  better  than  a  sort  of  pageant, 
where  trite  and  obvious  maxims  are  made  to  swagger  in  lofty 
and  mystic  language,  and  get  some  credit  only  because  they 
.    are  not  easily  understood.     There  are  some  of   the  great 
moralist's  papers  which  I  cannot  peruse  without  thinking 
on  a  second-rate   masquerade,  where  the  _  best-known  and 
1-     least-esteemed  characters  in  town  march  in  as  heroes,  and 
Bultans,  and  so  forth,  and,  by  dint  of  tawdry  dresses,  get 
some  consideration  until  they  are  found  out.     It  is  not, 
however,  prudent  to  commence  with  throwing  stones,  just 
when  I  am  striking  out  windows  of  my  own, 
I    I  think  even  the  local  situation  of  Little  Croftaugry  may 
Ibe  considered  as  favorable  to  my  undertaking.     A  nobler 
VfliHcontrast  there  can  hardly  exist  than  that  of  the  huge  city, 
dark  with  the  smoke  of  ages,  and  groaning  with  the  various 
■-  sounds  of  active  industry  or  idle  revel,  and  the  lofty  and 
[0-  Icraggy  hill,  silent  and  solitary  as  the  grave  ;  one  exhibiting 
iforH the  full  tide  of  existence,  pressing  and  precipitating  itself 


372  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

forward  with  the  force  of  an  iuundation  ;  the  other  resem- 
bhng  some  time-worn  anchorite,  whose  life  passes  as  silent 
and  unobserved  as  the  slender  rill  which  escapes  unheard, 
and  scarce  seen,  from  the  fountain  of  his  patron  saint.  The 
city  resembles  the  busy  temple,  where  the  modern  Comus 
and  Mammon  hold  their  courts,  and  thousands  sacrifice 
ease,  independence,  and  virtue  itself  at  their  shrine  ;  the 
misty  and  lonely  mountain  seems  as  a  throne  to  the  majestic 
but  terrible  genius  of  feudal  times,  when  the  same  divinities 
dispensed  coronets  and  domains  to  those  who  had  heads  to 
devise  and  arms  to  execute  bold  enterprises. 

I  have,  as  it  were,  the  two  extremities  of  the  moral  world 
at  my  threshold.  From  the  front  door,  a  few  minutes'  walk 
brings  me  into  the  heart  of  a  wealthy  and  populous  city  ;  as 
many  paces  from  my  opposite  entrance  place  me  in  a  soli- 
tude as  complete  as  Zimmermann  could  have  desired. 
Surely,  with  such  aids  to  my  imagination,  I  may  write  better 
than  if  I  were  in  a  lodging  in  the  New  Town  or  a  garret  in 
the  old.     As  the  Spaniard  says,  "  Viamos,  caracco  !  " 

I  have  not  chosen  to  publish  periodically,  my  reason  for 
which  was  twofold.  In  the  first  place,  I  don't  like  to  be  i'«l 
hurried,  and  have  had  enough  of  duns  in  an  early  part  of|~ 
my  life  to  make  me  reluctant  to  hear  of  or  see  one,  even  in; 
the  less  awful  shape  of  a  printer's  devil.  But,  secondly, 
periodical  paper  is  not  easily  extended  in  circulation  beyou' 
the  quarter  in  which  it  is  published.  This  work,  if  puh 
lished  in  fugitive  numbers,  would  scarce,  without  a  hi 
pressure  on  the  part  of  the  bookseller,  be  raised  above  th 
Netherbrow,  and  never  could  be  expected  to  ascend  to  theBflii 
level  of  Princess  Street.  Now  I  am  ambitious  that  mjj 
compositions,  though  having  their  origin  in  this  valley  o:' 
Ilolyrood,  should  not  only  be  extended  into  those  exaltd 
regions  I  have  mentioned,  but  also  that  they  should  crosi 
the  Forth,  astonish  the  long  town  of  Kirkcaldy,  enchan 
the  skippers  and  colliers  of  the  east  of  Fife,  venture  eve: 
into  the  classic  arcades  of  St.  Andrews,  and  travel  as  mucl 
farther  to  the  north  as  the  breath  of  applause  will  carr' 
their  sails.  As  for  a  southward  direction,  it  is  not  to  b( 
hoped  for  in  my  fondest  dreams.  I  am  informed  tlia 
Scottish  literature,  like  Scottish  whisky,  will  be  presentl;' 
laid  under  a  prohibitory  duty.  But  enough  of  this.  If  an; 
reader  is  dull  enough  not  to  comprehend  the  advantag 
which,  in  point  of  circulation,  a  compact  book  has  over 
collection  of  fugitive  numbers,  let  him  try  the  range  of 
gun  loaded  with  hail-shot,  against  that  of  the  same  piec 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  37 

charged  with  an  equal  weight  of  lead  consolidated  in  a  sin- 
gle bullet. 

Besides,  it  was  of  less  consequence  that  I  should  have 
published  periodically,  since  I  did  not  mean  to  solicit  or 
accept  of  the  contributions  of  friends,  or  the  criticisms  of 
those  who  may  be  less  kindly  disposed.  Notwithstanding 
the  excellent  examples  which  might  be  quoted,  I  will 
establish  no  begging-box,  either  under  the  name  of  a  lion's 
head  or  an  ass's.  What  is  good  or  ill  sliall  be  mine  own,  or 
the  contribution  of  friends  to  whom  I  may  have  private 
access.  Many  of  my  voluntary  assistants  might  be  cleverer 
than  myself,  and  then  I  should  have  a  brilliant  article 
appear  among  my  chiller  effusions,  like  a  jaatch  of  lace  on  a 
Scottish  cloak  of  Galashiels  gray.  Some  might  be  worse, 
and  then  I  must  reject  them,  to  the  injury  of  the  feelings 
of  the  writer,  or  else  insert  them,  to  make  my  own  dark- 
r  ness  yet  more  opaque  and  palpable.  "  Let  every  herring,'* 
a  says  our  old-fashioned  proverb,  "hang  by  its  own  head." 

One  person,  however,  I  may  distinguish,  as  she  is  now  no 
,:  more,  who,  living  to  the  utmost  term  of  human  life,  hon- 
ored me  with  a  great  share  of  her  friendship,  as  indeed  we 
were  blood-relatives  in  the  Scottish  sense — Heaven  knows 
:  how  many  degrees  removed — and  friends  in  the  sense  of  Old 
a  England.     I    mean  the  late   excellent   and    regretted    Mrs. 
I  Bethune  Baliol.     But  as  I  design  this  admirable  picture  of 
1.  the  olden  time  for  a  principal  character  in  my  work,  I  will 
:  only  say  here,  that  she  knew  and  approved  of  my  present 
i,  purpose  ;  and  though  she  declined  to  contribute  to  it  while 
,,  she  lived,  from  a  sense  of  dignified  retirement,  which  she 
,,15  i  thought  became  her  age,  sex,  and  condition  in  life,  she  left 
me  some  materials  for  carrying  on  my  proposed  work,  which 
I  coveted  when  I  heard  her  detail  them  in  conversation,  and 
which  now,  when  I  have  their  substance  in  her  own  hand- 
writing, I  account  far  more  valuable  than  anything  I  have 
myself  to  offer.     I  hope  the  mentioning  her  name  in  con- 
junction with  my  own  will  give  no  offense  to  any  of  her 
numerous  friends,  as  it  was  her  own  express  pleasure  that  I 
should   employ    the   manuscripts,    which   she   did    me   the 
honor  to  bequeath  me,  in  the  manner  in  which  I  have  now 
used  them.     It  must  be  added,  however,  that  in  most  cases 
I  have  disguised  names,  and  in  some  have  added  shading 
and  coloring  to  bring  out  the  narrative. 

Much  of  my  materials,  besides  these,  are  derived  from 
friends,  living  or  dead.  The  accuracy  of  some  of  these  may 
be  doubtful,  in  which  case  I  shall  be  happy  to  receive,  from 


374  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

sufficient  authorit}',  the  correction  of  the  errors  which  must 
creep  into  traditional  documents.  The  object  of  the  wliole 
publication  is,  to  throw  some  light  on  the  manners  of  Scot- 
land as  they  were,  and  to  contrast  them,  occasionally,  with 
those  of  the  present  day.  My  own  opinions  are  in  favor  of 
our  own  times  in  many  respects,  but  not  in  so  far  as  affords 
means  for  exercising  the  imagination,  or  exciting  the  inter- 
est which  attaches  to  other  times.  I  am  glad  to  be  a  writer 
or  a  reader  in  1826,  but  I  would  be  most  interested  in  read- 
ing or  relating  Avhat  happened  from  half  a  century  to  a  cen- 
tury before.  We  have  the  best  of  it.  Scenes  in  which  our 
ancestors  thought  deeply,  acted  fiercely,  and  died  desper- 
ately are  to  us  tales  to  divert  the  tedium  of  a  winter's  even- 
ing, when  we  are  engaged  to  no  party,  or  beguile  a  sum- 
mer's morning,  when  it  is  too  scorching  to  ride  or  walk. 

Yet  I  do  not  mean  that  my  essays  and  narratives  should 
be  limited  to  Scotland.  I  pledge  myself  to  no  particular 
line  of  subjects  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  say  with  Burns, 

Perhaps  it  may  turn  out  a  sang, 
Perhaps  turn  out  a  sermon. 

I  have  only  to  add,  by  way  of  postscript  to  these  prelimi-j 
nary  chapters,  that  I  have  had  recourse  to  Moliere's  recipe,: 
and  read  my  manuscript  over  to  my  old  woman,  Janet 
MacEvoy. 

The   dignity   of    being   consulted   delighted  Janet ;  anc 
Wilkie  or  Allan  would  have  made  a  capital  sketch  of  heri 
as  she  sat  upright  in  her   chair,  instead    of  her   ordinal 
lounging  posture,  knitting  her  stocking  systematically,  as 
she  meant  every  twist  of  her  thread  and   inclination  of  th^ 
wires  to  bear  burden  to  the  cadence  of  my  voice.     I 
afraid,  too,  that  I  myself  felt  more  delight  than  I  ought  tJ 
have  done  in  my  own  composition,  and  read  a  little  mor| 
oratorically  than  I  should  have  ventured   to  do  before 
auditor  of  whose  apjilause  I  was  not  so  secure.     And  tl 
result  did  not  entirely  encourage  my  plan  of  censorshijl 
Janet  did    indeed  seriously  incline  to   the  account  of  mji 
previous   life,   and  bestowed    some  Highland   maledictiorji 
more  emphatic  than  courteous  on  Christie  Steele's  receptio' 
of  a  "  shentlemans  in  distress,"  and  of  her  own   mistress 
house    too.     I    omitted     for    certain     reasons,    or   great 
abridged,  Avhat  related  to  herself.     But  when    I   came 
treat  of  my  general  views  in  publication,  I  saw  poor  Jan 
was  entirefy  thrown  out,  though,  like  a  jaded  hunter,  par: 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  375 


ing,  puffing,  and  short  of  wind,  she  endeavored  at  least  to 
keep  up  with  the  chase.  Or  rather  her  perplexity  made  her 
look  all  the  while  like  a  deaf  person  ashamed  of  his  infirm- 
ity, who  does  not  understand  a  word  you  are  saying,  yet 
desires  you  to  believe  that  he  does  understand  you,  and  who 
is  extremely  jealous  that  you  suspect  his  incapacity.  When 
she  saw  that  some  remark  was  necessary,  she  resembled 
exactly  in  her  criticism  the  devotee  who  pitched  on  the 
"  sweet  word  Mesopotamia'^  as  the  most  edifying  note  which 
she  could  bring  away  from  a  sermon.  She  indeed  hastened 
to  bestow  general  praise  on  what  she  said  was  "all  very 
fine "  ;  but  chiefly  dwelt  on  what  I  had  said  about  Mr. 
Timmerman,  as  she  was  pleased  to  call  the  German  philoso- 
pher, and  supposed  he  must  be  of  the  same  descent  with 
the  Higliland  clan  of  M'Intyre,  which  signifies  Son  of  the 
Carpenter.  "And  a  fery  honorable  name  too — Shanet's 
own  mither  was  a  M'Intyre." 

In  short,  it  was  plain  the  latter  part  of  my  introduction 
was  altogether  lost  on  poor  Janet ;  and  so,  to  have  acted  up 
to  Moliere's  system,  I  should  have  canceled  the  whole,  and 
written  it  anew.  But  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  ;  I  retained, 
I  suppose,  some  tolerable  opinion  of  my  own  composition, 
though  Janet  did  not  comprehend  it,  and  felt  loth  to  re- 
'3  *^®^^*^''i  tl^os®  delilahs  of  the  imagination,  as  Dryden  calls 
them,  the  tropes  and  figures  of  which  are  caviar  to  the  mul- 
titude. Besides,  I  hate  rewriting  as  much  as  Falstaff  did 
paying  back  :  it  is  a  double  labor.  So  I  determined  with 
1;,!1  ^y^^^^  ^^  consult  Janet,  in  future,  only  on  such  tilings  as 
'■'"T!  were  within  the  limits  uf  her  comprehension,  and  hazard 
niy  arguments  and  my  rhetoric  on  the  public  without  her 
imprimatur.  I  am  pretty  sure  she  will  "  applaud  it  done.'' 
And  in  such  narratives  as  come  within  her  range  of  thought 
and  feeling,  I  shall,  as  I  first  intended,  take  the  benefit  of 
her  unsophisticated  judgment,  and  attend  to  it  deferentially 
— that  is,  when  it  happens  not  to  be  in  peculiar  opposition 
to  my  own  ;  for,  after  all,  I  say  with  Almanzor — 

Know  that  I  alone  am  king  of  me. 

The  reader  has  now  my  who  and  my  whereabout,  the  pur- 
rpbse  of  the  work,  and  the  circumstances  under  which  it  is 
undertaken.  He  has  also  a  specimen  of  tlie  author's  talents, 
and  may  judge  for  himself,  and  proceed  or  send  back  the 
volume  to  the  bookseller,  as  hig  own  taste  shall  determine. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MR.  CROFTANGRY's  ACCOUNT  OF  MRS.  BETHUNE  BALIOL 

The  moon,  were  she  earthly,  no  nobler. 

Coriola7ius. 

When  we  set  out  on  the  jolly  voyage  of  life,  what  a  brave 
fleet  there  is  around  us,  as,  stretching  our  fresh  canvas  to 
the  breeze,  all  "  shipshape  and  Bristol  fashion,'*  pennons 
flying,  music  playing,  cheering  each  other  as  we  pass,  we 
are  rather  amused  than  alarmed  when  some  awkward  com- 
rade goes  right  ashore  for  Avant  of  pilotage  I  Alas  !  when 
the  voyage  is  well  spent,  and  we  look  about  us,  toil-worn 
mariners,  how  few  of  our  ancient  consorts  still  remain  in 
sight,  and  they,  how  torn  and  wasted,  and,  like  ourselves, 
struggling  to  keep  as  long  as  possible  off  the  fatal  shore 
against  which  we  are  all  finally  drifting  ! 

I  felt  this  very  trite  but  melancholy  truth  in  all  its  force 
the  other  day,  when  a  packet  with  a  black  seal  arrived,  con- 
taining a  letter  addressed  to  me  by  my  late  excellent  friend 
Mrs.  Martha  Bethune  Baliol,  and  marked  with  the  fatal  in-, 
dorsation,  "To  be  delivered  according  to  address,  after  I 
shall  be  no  more."  A  letter  from  her  executors  accom 
panied  the  packet,  mentioning  that  they  had  found  in  heri 
will  a  bequest  to  me  of  a  painting  of  some  value,  which  shel 
stated  would  just  fit  the  space  above  my  cupboard,  and  fift 
guineas  to  buy  a  ring.  And  thus  I  separated,  with  all  th 
kindness  which  we  had  maintained  for  many  years,  from 
friend  who,  though  old  enough  to  have  been  the  com2ianior| 
of  my  mother,  was  yet,  in  gaiety  of  spirits  and  admirabl 
sweetness  of  temper,  capable  of  being  agreeable,  and  ever 
animating,  society  for  those  who  write  themselves  in  th 
vaward  of  youth — an  advantage  which  I  have  lost  fo 
these  five-and-thirty  years.  The  contents  of  the  packet 
had  no  difficulty  in  guessing,  and  have  partly  hinted  at  then' 
in  the  last  chapter.  But  to  instruct  the  reader  in  the  pa; 
ticulars,  and  at  the  same  time  to  indulge  myself  with  recal 
ing  the  virtues  and  agreeable  qualities  of  my  late  friend, 
will  give  a  short  sketch  of  her  manners  and  habits. 
376 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  377 

Mrs.  Martha  Bethune  Baliol  was  a  person  of  quality  and 
fortune,  as  these  are  esteemed  in  Scothmd.  Her  family  was 
ancient,  and  her  connections  honorable.  She  was  not  fond 
of  specially  indicating  her  exact  age,  but  her  juvenile  recol- 
lections stretched  backwards  till  before  the  eventful  year 
1745  ;  and  she  remembered  the  Highland  clans  being  in  pos- 
session of  the  Scottish  capital,  though  probably  only  as  an 
indistinct  vision.  Her  fortune,  independent  by  her  father's 
bequest,  was  rendered  opulent  by  the  death  of  more  than 
one  brave  brother,  who  fell  successively  in  the  service  of  their 
country  ;  so  that  the  family  estates  became  vested  in  the 
only  surviving  child  of  the  ancient  house  of  Bethune  Baiiol. 
My  intimacy  was  formed  with  the  excellent  lady  after  thii 
event,  and  when  she  was  already  something  advanced  in  age. 

She  inhabited,  when  in  Edinburgh,  where  she  regularl} 
spent  the  winter  season,  one  of  those  old  hotels,  which,  tilF 
of  late,  were  to  be  found  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Canon- 
gate  and  of  the  palace  of  Holy  rood  House,  and  which> 
separated  from  the  street,  now  dirty  and  vulgar,  by  paved 
courts  and  gardens  of  some  extent,  made  amends  for  an  in- 
different access,  by  showing  something  of  aristocratic  state 
and  seclusion,  when  you  were  once  admitted  within  their 
precincts.  They  have  pulled  her  house  down  ;  for,  indeed, 
betwixt  building  and  burning,  every  ancient  monument  of 
the  Scottish  capital  is  now  likely  to  be  utterly  demolished. 
I  pause  on  the  recollections  of  the  place,  however  ;  and  since 
nature  has  denied  a  pencil  when  she  placed  a  pen  in  my 
hand,  I  will  endeavor  to  make  words  answer  the  purpose  of 
delineation. 

Baliol's  Lodging,  so  was  the  mansion  named,  reared  its 
high  stack  of  chimneys,  among  which  were  seen  a  turret  or 
two,  and  one  of  those  small  projecting  platforms  called  bar- 
tizans, above  the  mean  and  modern  buildings  which  line  the 
south  side  of  the  Canongate,  towards  the  lower  end  of  that 
street,  and  not  distant  from  the  palace,  A  porte  cochere, 
having  a  wicket  for  foot-passengers,  was,  upon  due  occasion, 
unfolded  by  a  lame  old  man,  tall,  grave,  and  thin,  who 
tenanted  a  hovel  beside  the  gate,  and  acted  as  porter.  To 
this  office  he  had  been  promoted  by  my  friend's  charitable 
feelings  for  an  old  soldier,  and  partly  by  an  idea  that  his 
head,  which  was  a  very  fine  one,  bore  some  resemblance  to 
that  of  Garrick  in  the  character  of  Lusignan.  He  was  a 
man  saturnine,  silent,  and  slow  in  his  proceedings,  and 
would  never  open  the  porte  cochere  to  a  hackney  coach  in- 
dicating the  wicket  with  his  finger,  as  the  proper  passage 


878  WA  VERLET  NO  VELS 

for  all  who  came  in  that  obscure  vehicle,  which  was  not  per- 
mitted to  degrade  with  its  ticketed  presence  the  dignity  of 
Baliol's  Lodging.  I  do  not  think  this  peculiarity  would 
have  met  with  his  ladv's  approbation,  any  more  than  the 
occasional  partiality  of  Lusignan,  or,  as  mortals  called  him, 
Archy  Macready,  to  a  dram.  But  Mrs.  Martha  Bethune 
Baliol,  conscious  that,  in  case  of  conviction,  slie  could  never 
have  prevailed  upon  herself  to  dethrone  the  King  of  Pales- 
tine from  tlie  stone  bench  on  whicli  lie  sat  for  liours,  knit- 
ting his  stocking;  refused,  by  accrediting  tlie  intelligence, 
even  to  jaut  him  upon  liis  trial  ;  well  judging  that  he  would 
observe  more  wholesome  caution  if  he  conceived  his  charac- 
ter unsuspected  than  if  he  were  detected,  and  suffered  to 
pass  unpunished.  For,  after  all,  she  said,  it  would  be  cruel 
to  dismiss  an  old  Highland  soldier  for  a  peccadillo  so  a^jpro- 
priate  to  his  country  and  profession. 

The  stately  gate  for  carriages,  or  the  humble  accommoda- 
tion for  foot-passengers,  admitted  into  a  narrow  and  short 
passage,  running  between  two  rows  of  lime-trees,  whose  green 
foliage  during  the  spring  contrasted  strangely  with  the  swart 
complexion  of  the  two  walls  by  the  side  of  which  they  grew. 
This  access  led  to  the  front  of  the  house,  which  was  formed 
by  two  gable  ends,  notched,  and  having  their  windows 
adorned  with  heavy  architectural  ornaments  ;  they  joined 
each  other  at  right  angles,  and  a  half-circular  tower,  which 
contained  the  entrance  and  the  staircase,  occupied  the  point 
of  junction  and  rounded  the  acute  angle.  One  of  other  two 
sides  of  the  little  court,  in  which  there  was  just  sufficient 
room  to  turn  a  carriage,  was  occupied  by  some  low  buildings 
answering  the  purpose  of  offices ;  the  other,  by  a  parapet 
surrounded  by  a  highly-ornamented  iron  railing,  twined 
round  with  honeysuckle  and  other  parasitical  shrubs,  which 
permitted  the  eye  to  peep  into  a  pretty  suburban  garden, 
extending  down  to  the  road  called  the  South  Back  of  the 
Canongate,  and  boasting  a  number  of  old  trees,  many  flowers, 
and  even  some  fruit.  AVe  must  not  forget  to  state,  that  the 
extreme  cleanliness  of  the  courtyard  was  such  as  intimated 
that  mop  and  pail  had  done  their  utmost  in  that  favored 
spot  to  atone  for  the  general  dirt  and  dinginess  of  the  quarte 
where  the  premises  were  situated. 

Over  the  doorway  were  the  arms  of  Bethune  and   Baliol 

with  various  other  devices  carved  in  stone  ;   the  door  itselfj 

was  studded  with  iron  nails,  and  formed  of  black  oak  ;  an  iro 

rasp,*  as  it  was  called,  was  placed  on  it,  instead  of  a  knocker, 

*  See  Note  19. 


'tperJ 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  379 

for  the  purpose  of  summoning  the  attendants.  He  who  usu- 
ally appeared  at  the  summons  was  a  smart  lad,  in  a  hand- 
some liver}^  the  son  of  Mrs.  Martha's  gardener  at -Mount 
Baliol.  Now  and  then  a  servant-girl,  nicely  but  plainly 
dressed,  and  fully  accoutered  with  stockings  and  shoes,  would 
perform  this  duty ;  and  twice  or  thrice  I  remember  being 
admitted  by  Beauffet  himself,  whose  exterior  looked  as  much 
like  that  of  a  clergyman  of  rank  as  the  butler  of  a  gentle- 
man's family.  He  had  been  valet-de-cliam'bre  to  the  last  Sir 
Richard  Bethune  Baliol,  and  was  a  person  highly  trusted  by 
the  present  lady.  A  full  stand,  as  it  is  called  in  Scotland,  of 
garments  of  a  dark  color,  gold  buckles  in  his  shoes  and  at 
the. knees  of  his  breeches,  with  his  hair  regularly  dressed  and 
powdered,  announced  hira  to  be  a  domestic  of  trust  and  im- 
portance.    His  mistress  used  to  say  of  him. 

He's  sad  and  civil, 
And  suits  well  for  a  servant  with  my  fortunes. 

As  no  one  can  escape  scandal,  some  said  that  Beauffet 
made  a  rather  better  thing  of  the  place  than  the  modesty  of 
his  old-fashioned  wages  would,  unassisted,  have  amounted 
to.  But  the  man  was  always  very  civil  to  me.  He  had 
been  long  in  the  family,  had  enjoyed  legacies,  and  laid  by  a 
something  of  his  own,  upon  which  he  now  enjoys  ease  with 
dignity,  in  as  far  as  his  newly-married  wife,  Tibbie  Short- 
acres,  will  permit  him. 

The  Lodging — dearest  readers,  if  you  are  tired,  pray  pass 

over  the  next  four  or  five  pages — was  not  by  any  means  so 

large  as  its  external  appearance  led  people   to   conjecture. 

The  interior  accommodation  was  much  cut  up  by  cross  walls 

and  long  i:)assages,  and  that  neglect  of  economizing  space 

which   characterizes   old  Scottish  architecture.     But  there 

M'as  far  more  room  than  my  old  friend  required,  even  when 

she  had,  as  was  often  the  case,  four  or  five  young  cousins 

under  her  protection  :  and  I  believe  much  of  the  house  was 

unoccupied.     Mrs.   Bethune  Baliol  never,  in  my  presence, 

showed  herself  so  much  offended,  as  once  with  a  meddling 

person  who  advised  her  to  have  the  windows  of  these  super- 

'    numerary  apartments  built  up,  to  save  the  tax.     She  said  in 

,|f}   ire  that,  while  she  lived,  the  light  of  God  should  visit  the 

,j)f    house  of  her  fathers ;  and  while  she  had  a  penny,  the  king 

^  j    and  country  should  have  their  due.     Indeed,  she  was  punctili- 

"^^n    ously  loyal,  even  in  that  most  staggering  test  of  loyalty,  the 

'■■      payment  of  imposts.     Mr.  Beauffet  told  me  he  was  ordered 

to  offer  a  glass  of  wine  to  the  person  who  collected  the  in- 


380  ]VA VERLEY  NOVELS 

come-tax,  and  that  the  poor  man  was  so  overcome  by  a  recep- 
tion so  unwontedly  generous,  that  he  had  wellnigh  fainted 
on  the  spot. 

You  entered  by  a  matted  ante-room  into  the  eating-parlor, 
filled  with  old-fashioned  furniture,  and  hung  with  family  por- 
traits, which,  excepting  one  of  Sir  Bernard  Bethune,  in  James 
the  Sixth's  time,  said  to  be  by  Jameson,  were  exceedingly 
frightful.  A  saloon,  as  it  was  called,  a  long  narrow  cliam- 
ber,  led  out  of  the  clining-parlor,  and  served  for  a  drawing- 
room.  It  was  a  pleasant  apartment,  looking  out  upon  the 
south  flank  of  Holyrood  House,  the  gigantic  slope  of  Ar- 
thur's Seat,  and  the  girdle  of  lofty  rocks  called  Salisbury 
Crags* — objects  so  rudely  wild,  that  the  mind  can  hardly 
conceive  them  to  exist  in  the  vicinage  of  a  populous  metrop- 
olis. The  paintings  of  the  saloon  came  from  abroad,  and 
had  some  of  them  much  merit.  To  see  the  best  of  them, 
however,  you  must  be  admitted  into  the  very  penetralia  of 
the  temple,  and  allowed  to  draw  the  tapestry  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  saloon,  and  enter  Mrs.  Martha's  ow^n  special 
dressing-room.  This  was  a  charming  ajiartment,  of  which  it 
would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  form,  it  had  so  many  re- 
cesses which  were  filled  wp  with  shelves  of  ebony,  and  cabi- 
nets of  japan  and  ormolu  ;  some  for  holding  books,  of  which 
Mrs.  Martha  had  an  admirable  collection,  some  for  a  display 
of  ornamental  china,  others  for  shells  and  similar  curiosities 
In  a  little  niche,  half  screened  by  a  curtain  of  crimson  silk, 
was  disposed  a  suit  of  tilting  armor  of  bright  steel,  inlaid 
Avitli  silver,  which  had  been  worn  on  some  memorable  occa- 
sion by  Sir  Bernard  Eethune,  already  mentioned  ;  while  over 
the  canopy  of  the  niche  hung  the  broadsword  with  Avhich 
lier  father  had  attempted  to  change  the  fortunes  of  Britain 
in  1715,  and  the  spontoon  which  her  elder  brother  bore  when 
he  was  leading  on  a  company  of  the  Black  Watch  f  at  Fon- 
tenoy. 

There  were  some  Italian  and  Flemish  pictures  of  admitted 
authenticity,  a  few  genuine  bronzes  and  other  objects  of 
curiosity,  which  her  brothers  or  herself  had  picked  up  while 
abroad.  In  short,  it  was  a  place  where  the  idle  were  tempted 
to  become  studious,  the  studious  to  grow  idle,  where  the  grave 
might  find  matter  to  make  them  gay,  and  the  gay  subjects 
for  gravity. 

That  it  might  maintain  some  title  toils  name,  I  must  not 
forget  to  say,  that  the  lady's  dressing-room  exhibited  a  superb 

•  See  Note  30  t  See  Note  21. 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  381 

mirror,  framed  in  silver  filigree  work  ;  a  beautiful  toilet, 
the  cover  of  which  was  of  Flanders  lace  ;  and  a  set  of  boxes 
corresponding  in  materials  and  work  to  the  frame  of  the 
mirror. 

This  dressing  apparatus,  however,  was  mere  matter  of 
parade  :  Mrs.  Martha  Bethune  Baliol  always  went  through 
the  actual  duties  of  the  toilet  in  an  inner  apartment,  which 
corresponded  with  her  sleeping-room  by  a  small  detached 
staircase.  There  were,  I  believe,  more  than  one  of  those 
"  turnpike  stairs,"  as  they  were  called,  about  the  house,  by 
which  the  public  rooms,  all  of  which  entered  through  each 
other,  were  accommodated  with  separate  and  independent 
modes  of  access.  In  the  little  boudoir  we  have  described, 
Mrs.  Martha  Baliol  had  her  choicest  meetings.  She  kept 
early  hours  ;  and  if  you  went  in  the  morning,  you  must  not 
reckon  that  space  of  day  as  extending  beyond  three  o'clock, 
or  four  at  the  utmost.  These  vigilant  habits  were  attended 
with  some  restraint  on  her  visitors,  but  they  were-indemnified 
by  your  always  finding  the  best  society,  and  the  best  informa- 
tion, which  was  to  be  had  for  the  day  in  the  Scottish  cap- 
ital. Without  at  all  affecting  the  blue  stocking,  she  liked 
books  ;  they  amused  her,  and  if  the  authors  were  persons  of 
character,  she  thought  she  owed  them  a  debt  of  civility, 
which  she  loved  to  discharge  by  personal  kindness.  When 
she  gave  a  dinner  to  a  small  party,  which  she  did  now  and 
then,  she  had  the  good  nature  to  look  for,  and  the  good 
luck  to  discover,  what  sort  of  people  suited  each  other  best, 
and  chose  her  company  as  Duke  Theseus  did  his  hounds. 

Matched  in  mouth  like  bells, 
Each  under  each,* 

so  that  every  guest  could  take  his  part  in  the  cry ;  instead 
of  one  mighty  Tom  of  a  fellow,  like  Dr.  Johnson,  silencing 
all  besides  by  the  tremendous  depth  of  his  diapason.  On 
such  occasions  she  afforded  chere  exqiiise  ;  and  every  now 
and  then  there  was  some  dish  of  French,  or  even  Scottish 
derivation,  which,  as  well  as  the  numerous  assortment  of  vins 
extraordinaires  produced  by  Mr.  Beauffet,  gave  a  sort  of  an- 
tique and  foreign  air  to  the  entertainment,  which  rendered 
it  more  interesting. 

It  was  a  great  thing  to  be  asked  to  such  parties,  and  not 
less  so  to  be  invited  to  the  early  conversazione,  which,  in  spite 
of  fashion,  by  dint  of  the  best  coffee,  the  finest  tea,  and  chassn' 

*Shakspeare's  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  Act  iv.  so.  1. 


383  WA  VERL EY  NO  VEL S 

cafe  that  would  have  called  the  dead  to  life,  she  contrived 
now  and  then  to  assemble  in  her  saloon  already  mentioned, 
at  the  unnatural  hour  of  eight  in  the  evening.  At  such 
times,  the  cheerful  old  lady  seemed  to  enjoy  herself  so  much 
in  the  happiness  of  her  guests,  that  they  exerted  themselves 
in  turn  to  j^rolong  her  amusement  and  their  own  ;  and  a 
certain  charm  was  excited  around,  seldom  to  be  met  with 
in  parties  of  pleasure,  and  which  was  founded  on  the  general 
desire  of  every  one  present  to  contribute  something  to  the 
common  amusement. 

But  although  it  was  a  great  privilege  to  be  admitted  to 
wait  on  my  excellent  friend  in  the  morning,  or  be  invited  to 
her  dinner  or  evening  parties,  I  prized  still  higher  the  right 
which  I  had  acquired,  by  old  acquaintance,  of  visiting 
Baliol's  Lodging,  upon  the  chance  of  finding  its  venerable 
inhabitant  preparing  for  tea,  just  about  six  o'clock  in  the 
evening.  It  was  only  to  two  or  three  old  friends  that  she 
permitted  this  freedom,  nor  was  this  sort  of  chance-party 
ever  allowed  to  extend  itself  beyond  five  in  number.  The 
answer  to  those  who  came  later  announced  that  the  com- 
pany was  filled  up  for  the  evening ;  which  had  the  double 
effect  of  making  those  who  waited  on  Mrs.  Bethune  Balioi 
in  this  unceremonious  manner  punctual  in  observing  her  hour, 
and  of  adding  the  zest  of  a  little  difficulty  to  the  enjoyment 
of  the  party. 

It  more  frequently  happened  that  only  one  or  two  j^ersons 
partook  of  this  refreshment  on  the  same  evening  ;  or,  sup- 
posing the  case  of  a  single  gentleman,  Mrs.  Martha,  though 
she  did  not  hesitate  to  admit  him  to  her  boudoir,  after  the 
privilege  of  the  French  and  the  old  Scottish  school,  took 
care,  as  she  used  to  say,  to  preserve  all  possible  propriety, 
by  commanding  the  attendance  of  her  principal  female  at- 
tendant, Mrs.  Alice  Lambskin,  who  might,  from  the  gravity 
and  dignity  of  her  appearance,  have  sufficed  to  matronize  a 
whole  boarding-school,  instead  of  one  maiden  lady  of  eighty 
and  upwards.  As  the  weather  permitted,  Mrs.  Alice  sat 
duly  remote  from  the  company  in  a  fauteuil  behind  the  pro- 
jecting chimney-piece,  or  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window, 
and  prosecuted  in  Carthusian  silence,  with  indefatigable 
zeal,  a  piece  of  embroidery,  which  seemed  no  bad  emblem 
of  eternity. 

But  I  have  neglected  all  this  while  to  introduce  my  friend 
herself  to  the  reader,  at  least  so  far  as  words  can  convey  the 
peculiarities  by  which  her  appearance  and  conversation  were 
distingaished. 


CHEONICLES  OF  THE  CANON  GATE  383 

A  little  woman,  with  ordinary  features,  and  an  ordinary 
form,  and  hair  which  in  youth  had  no  decided  color,  we 
may  believe  Mrs.  Martha,  when  she  said  of  herself  that  she 
was  never  remarkable  for  personal  charms — a  modest  admis- 
sion, which  was  readily  confirmed  by  certain  old  ladies,  her 
contemporaries,  who,  whatever  might  have  been  the  youth- 
ful advantages  whicli  they  more  than  hinted  had  been 
formerly  their  own  share,  were  now,  in  personal  appearance, 
as  well  as  in  everything  else,  far  inferior  to  my  accomplished 
friend.  Mrs.  Martha's  features  had  been  of  a  kind  which 
might  be  said  to  wear  well  ;  their  irregularity  was  now  of 
little  consequence,  animated  as  they  were  by  the  vivacity  of 
her  conversation  ;  her  teeth  were  excellent ;  and  her  eyes, 
although  inclining  to  gray,  were  lively,  laughing,  and  un- 
dimmed  by  time.  A  slight  shade  of  complexion,  more  bril- 
liant than  her  years  promised,  subjected  my  friend  amongst 
strangers  to  the  suspicion  of  having  stretched  her  foreign 
habits  as  far  as  the  prudent  touch  of  the  rouge.  But  it  was 
a  calumny  ;  for,  when  telling  or  listening  to  an  interesting 
and  affecting  story,  I  have  seen  her  color  come  and  go  as  if 
it  played  on  the  cheek  of  eighteen. 

Her  hair,  whatever  its  former  deficiencies,  was  now  the 
most  beautiful  white  that  time  could  bleach,  and  was  dis- 
posed with  some  degree  of  pretension,  though  in  the  sim- 
plest manner  possible,  so  as  to  appear  neatly  smoothed  under 
a  cap  of  Flanders  lace,  of  an  old-fashioned,  but,  as  I  thought, 
of  a  very  handsome  form,  which  undoubtedly  has  a  name, 
.and  I  would  endeavor  to  recur  to  it,  if  I  thought  it  would 
make  my  description  a  bit  more  intelligible.  I  think  I  have 
•■  heard  her  say  these  favorite  caps  had  been  her  mother's, 
and  had  come  in  fashion  with  a  peculiar  kind  of  wig  used 
■  by  the  gentlemen  about  the  time  of  the  battle  of  Eamillies. 
The  rest  of  her  dress  was  always  rather  costly  and  distin- 
guished, especially  in  the  evening.  A  silk  or  satin  gown  of 
some  color  becoming  her  age,  and  of  a  form  which,  though 
complying  to  a  certain  degree  with  the  present  fashion,  had 
always  a  reference  to  some  more  distant  period,  was  garnished 
with  triple  ruffles  ;  her  shoes  had  diamond  buckles,  and 
were  raised  a  little  at  heel,  an  advantage  which,  possessed 
in  her  youth,  she  alleged  her  size  would  not  permit  her  to 
forego  in  her  old  age.  She  always  wore  rings,  bracelets,  and 
other  ornaments  of  value,  either  for  the  materials  or  the 
workmanship  ;  nay,  perhaps  she  was  a  little  profuse  in  this 
species  of  display.  But  she  wore  them  as  subordinate  mat- 
ters, to  which  the  habits  of  being  constantly  in  high  life 


384  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

rendered  her  indifferent  :  she  wore  them  because  her  rank 
required  it,  and  thought  no  more  of  them  as  articles  of  finery 
than  a  gentleman  dressed  for  dinner  thinks  of  his  clean  linen 
and  well-brushed  coat,  the  consciousness  of  which  embar- 
rasses the  rustic  beau  on  a  Sunday. 

Now  and  then,  however,  if  a  gem  or  ornament  chanced 
to  be  noticed  for  its  beauty  or  singularity,  the  observation 
usually  led  the  way  to  an  entertaining  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  it  had  been  acquired,  or  the  person  from  whom  it 
had  descended  to  its  present  possessor.  On  such  and  similar 
occasions  my  old  friend  spoke  willingly,  which  is  not  un- 
common, but  she  also,  which  is  more  rare,  spoke  remark- 
ably well,  and  had  in  her  little  narratives  concerning  foreign 
parts,  or  former  days,  which  formed  an  interesting  part  of 
her  conversation,  the  singular  art  of  dismissing  all  the  usual 
protracted  tautology  respecting  time,  place,  and  circum- 
stances, which  is  apt  to  settle  like  a  mist  upon  the  cold  and 
languid  tales  of  age,  and  at  the  same  time  of  bringing 
forward,  dwelling  upon,  and  illustrating  those  incidents  and 
characters  which  give  point  and  interest  to  the  story. 

She  had,  as  we  have  hinted,  traveled  a  good  deal  in  foreign 
countries  ;  for  a  brother,  to  whom  she  was  much  attached, 
had  been  sent  upon  various  missions  of  national  importance 
to  the  continent,  and  she  had  more  than  once  embraced  the 
opportunity  of  accompanying  him.  This  furnished  a  great 
addition  to  the  information  which  she  could  supply,  es- 
pecially during  the  last  war,  when  the  continent  was  for  so 
many  years  hermetically  sealed  against  the  English  nation. 
But,  besides,  Mrs.  Bethune  Baliol  visited  distant  countries, 
not  in  the  modern  fashion,  when  English  travel  in  caravans 
together,  and  see  in  France  and  Italy  little  besides  the  same 
society  which  they  might  have  enjoyed  at  home.  On  the 
contrary,  she  mingled  when  abroad  with  the  natives  of 
those  countries  she  visited,  and  enjoyed  at  once  the  advan-. 
tage  of  their  society  and  the  pleasure  of  comparing  it  with 
that  of  Britain. 

In  the  course  of  her  becoming  habituated  with  foreign 
manners,  Mrs.  Bethune  Baliol  had,  perhaps,  acquired  some 
slight  tincture  of  them  herself.  Yet  I  was  always  persuaded 
that  the  peculiar  vivacity  of  look  and  manner,  the  pointed 
and  appropriate  action  with  which  she  accompanied  what 
she  said,  the  use  of  the  gold  and  gemmed  tabatiere,  or  rather 
I  should  say  bonhonniere  (for  she  took  no  snuff,  and  the 
little  box  contained  only  a  few  pieces  of  candied  angelica, 
or  some  such  ladylike  sweetmeat),  were  of  real  old-fashioned 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONOATE  385 

Scottish  growth,  and  such  as  might  have  graced  the  tea- 
table  of  Susannah  Countess  of  Egliuton,*  the  patroness  of 
Allan  Ramsay,  or  of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Colonel  Ogilvy,  who 
was  another  mirror  by  whom  the  maidens  of  Auld  Reekie 
were  required  to  dress  themselves.  Although  well  acquainted 
with  the  customs  of  other  countries,  her  manners  had  been 
chiefly  formed  in  her  own,  at  a  time  when  great  folk  lived 
within  little  space,  and  when  the  distinguished  names  of 
the  highest  society  gave  to  Edinburgh  the  eclai  which  we 
now  endeavor  to  derive  from  the  unbounded  expense  and 
extended  circle  of  our  pleasures. 

I  was  more  confirmed  in  this  opinion  by  the  peculiarity  of 
the  dialect  which  Mrs.  Baliol  used.  It  was  Scottish — 
decidedly  Scottish,  often  containing  phrases  and  words  little 
used  in  the  present  day.  But  then  her  tone  and  mode  of 
pronunciation  were  as  different  from  the  usual  accent  of  the 
/  ordinary  Scotch  patois  as  the  accent  of  St.  James's  is  from 
that  of  'Billingsgate.  The  vowels  were  not  pronounced  much 
broader  than  in  the  Italian  language,  and  there  was  none  of 
the  disagreeable  drawl  which  is  so  offensive  to  southern  ears. 
In  shoi-t,  it  seemed  to  be  the  Scottish  as  spoken  by  the 
ancient  court  of  Scotland,  to  which  no  idea  of  vulgarity 
could  be  attached  ;  and  the  lively  manner  and  gestures  with 
which  it  was  accompanied  were  so  completely  in  accord  with 
the  sound  of  the  voice  and  the  style  of  talking  that  I  cannot 
assign  them  a  different  origin.  In  long  derivation,  perhaps 
^  the  manner  of  the  Scottish  court  might  have  been  originally 
!  formed  on  that  of  France,  to  which  it  had  certainly  some 
:  affinity  ;  but  I  will  live  and  die  in  the  belief  that  those  of 
]\[rs.  Baliol,  as  pleasing  as  they  were  peculiar,  came  to  her 
by  direct  descent  from  the  high  dames  who  anciently  adorned 
with  their  presence  the  royal  halls  of  Holyrood. 

*See  Note  22. 
25 


CHAPTEE  VII 

MRS.    BALIOL   ASSISTS    MR.    CROFTANGRY    IK    HIS    LITERARl 
SPECULATIONS 

Such  as  I  have  described  Mrs.  Bethune  Baliol,  the  reader 
will  easily  believe  that,  when  I  thought  of  the  miscellaneous 
nature  of  my  work,  I  rested  upon  the  information  she 
possessed,  and  her  communicative  disposition,  as  one  of  the 
principal  supports  of  my  enterprise.  Indeed,  she  by  no 
means  disapproved  of  my  proposed  publication,  though  ex- 
pressing herself  very  doubtful  how  far  she  could  personally 
assist  it — a  doubt  which  might  be  perhaps  set  down  to  a  little 
ladylike  coquetry,  which  required  to  be  sued  for  the  boon 
she  was  not  unwilling  to  grant.  Or,  perhaps,  the  good  old 
lady,  conscious  that  her  unusual  term  of  years  must  soon 
draw  to  a  close,  preferred  bequeathing  the  materials  in  the 
shape  of  a  legacy  to  subjecting  them  to  the  judgment  of  a 
critical  public  during  her  lifetime. 

Many  a  time  I  used,  in  our  conversations  of  the  Canon- 
gate,  to  resume  my  request  of  assistance,  from  a  sense  that 
my  friend  was  the  most  valuable  depository  of  Scottish 
traditions  that  was  probably  now  to  be  found.  This  was  a 
subject  on  which  my  mind  was  so  much  made  up,  that  when 
I  heard  her  carry  her  description  of  manners  so  far  back  be- 
yond her  own  time,  and  describe  how  Fletcher  of  Salton 
spoke,  how  Graham  of  Claverhouse  danced,  what  were  the 
jewels  worn  by  the  famous  Duchess  of  Lauderdale,  and  how 
she  came  by  them,  I  could  not  help  telling  her  I  thought  her 
some  fairy,  who  cheated  us  by  retaining  the  appearance  of  a 
mortal  of  our  own  day,  when,  in  fact,  she  had  witnessed  the 
revolutions  of  centuries.  She  was  much  diverted  when  I 
required  her  to  take  some  solemn  oath  that  she  had  not 
danced  at  the  balls  given  by  Mary  of  Este,  when  her  unhappy 
husband  *  occupied  Holyrood  in  a  species  of  honorable  ban- 
ishment ;  or  asked  whether  she  could  not  recollect  Charles 
the  Second,  when  he  came  to  Scotland  in  1650,  and  did  not 

*  The  Duke  of  York,  afterwards  James  II.,  frequently  resided  in 
flolyrood  House,  when  his  religion  rendered  him  an  object  of  sus- 
picion to  the  English  Parliament. 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  387 

possess  some  slight  recollections  of  the  bold  usurper  who 
drove  him  beyond  the  Forth. 

"Beau  cousin,"  she  said,  laughing,  "'none  of  these  do  I 
remember  personally  ;  but  you  must  know  there  has  been 
wonderfully  little  change  on  my  natural  temper  from  youth 
to  age.  From  which  it  follows,  cousin,  that,  being  even 
now  something  too  young  in  spirit  for  the  years  which 
Time  has  marked  me  in  his  calendar,  I  was,  when  a  girl,  a 
little  too  old  for  those  of  my  own  standing,  and  as  much  in- 
clined at  that  period  to  keep  the  society  of  elder  persons  as 
I  am  now  disposed  to  admit  the  company  of  gay  young  fellows 
of  fifty  or  sixty  like  yourself,  rather  than  collect  about  me  all 
the  octogenarians.  Now,  although  I  do  not  actually  come 
from  elfland,  and  therefore  cannot  boast  any  personal  knowl- 
edge of  the  great  personages  you  inquire  about,  yet  I  have 
seen  and  heard  those  who  knew  them  well,  and  who  have 
given  me  as  distinct  an  account  of  them  as  I  could  give  you 
myself  of  the  Empress-Queen  or  Frederick  of  Prussia  ;  and 
I  will  frankly  add,"  said  she,  laughing  and  offering  her 
honbonniere,  ''that  /  have  heard  so  much  of  the  years 
which  immediately  succeeded  the  Eevolution,  that  I  some- 
times am  apt  to  confuse  the  vivid  descriptions  fixed  on  my 
memory  by  the  frequent  and  animated  recitation  of  others 
for   things    which   I   myself    have    actually   witnessed.     I 

caught  myself  but  yesterday  describing  to  Lord  M the 

riding  of  the  last  Scottish  Parliament,  with  as  much  minute- 
ness as  if  I  had  seen  it,  as  my  mother  did,  from  the  balcony 
in  front  of  Lord  Moray's  lodging  in  the  Canongate." 

"  I  am  sure  you  must  have  given  Lord  M a  high  treat.'* 

"  I  treated  him  to  a  hearty  laugh,  I  believe,"  she  replied  ; 
"but  it  is  you,  you  vile  seducer  of  youth,  who  lead  me  into 
such  follies.  But  I  will  be  on  my  guard  against  my  own 
weakness.  I  do  not  well  know  if  the  Wandering  Jew  is 
supposed  to  have  a  wife,  but  I  should  be  sorry  a  decent 
middle-aged  Scottish  gentlewoman  should  be  suspected  of 
identity  with  such  a  supernatural  person." 

"  For  all  that,  I  must  torture  you  a  little  more,  ma  belle 
cousine,  with  my  interrogatories  ;  for  how  shall  1  ever  turn 
author  unless  on  the  strength  of  the  information  which  you 
have  so  often  procured  me  on  the  ancient  state  of  manners  ?  " 

"  Stay,  I  cannot  allow  you  to  give  your  points  of  inquiry  a 
name  so  very  venerable,  if  I  am  expected  to  answer  them. 
Ancient  is  a  term  for  antediluvians.  You  may  catechize  me 
about  the  battle  of  Flodden,  or  ask  particulars  about  Bruce 
and  Wallace,  under  pretext  of  curiosity  after  ancient  man- 


388  WAVEULEY  NOVELS 

ners  ;  and  that  last  subject  would  wake  my  Baliol  blood,  you 
know/' 

"  Well,  but,  Mrs.  Baliol,  suppose  we  settle  our  era.  You 
do  not  call  the  accession  of  James  the  Sixth  to  the  kingdom 
of  Britain  very  ancient  ?  " 

"  Ilmph  !  no,  cousin.  I  think  I  could  tell  you  more  of 
that  than  folk  nowadays  remember ;  for  instance,  that,  as 
James  was  trooping  towards  England,  bag  and  baggage,  his 
journey  was  stopped  near  Cockenzie  by  meeting  the  funeral 
of  the  Earl  of  Win  ton,*  the  old  and  faithful  servant  and 
follower  of  his  ill-fated  mother,  poor  Mary.  It  was  an  ill 
omen  for   the  ^infare,'  and  so  was  seen  of   it,  cousin." 

I  did  not  choose  to  prosecute  this  subject,  well  know- 
ing Mrs.  Bethune  Baliol  did  not  like  to  be  much  pressed 
on  the  subject  of  the  Stuarts,  whose  misfortunes  she 
pitied,  the  rather  that  her  father  had  espoused  their  cause. 
And  yet  her  attachment  to  the  present  dynasty  being  very 
sincere,  and  even  ardent,  more  especially  as  her  family 
had  served  his  late  Majesty  both  in  peace  and  war,  she 
experienced  a  little  embarrassment  in  reconciling  her  opin- 
ions respecting  the  exiled  family  with  those  she  entertained 
for  the  present.  In  fact,  like  many  an  old  Jacobite,  she 
was  contented  to  be  somewhat  inconsistent  on  the  subject, 
comforting  herself  that  noio  everything  stood  as  it  ought 
to  do,  and  that  there  was  no  use  in  looking  back  narrowly 
on  the  right  or  wrong  of  the  matter  half  a  century  ago. 

"  The  Highlands,"  I  suggested,  "should  furnish  you  with 
ample  subjects  of  recollection.  You  have  witnessed  the 
complete  change  of  that  primeval  country,  and  have  seen 
a  race  not  far  removed  from  the  earliest  period  of  society 
melted  down  into  the  great  mass  of  civilization ;  and  that 
could  not  happen  without  incidents  striking  in  themselves, 
and  curious  as  chapters  in  the  history  of  the  human  race." 

"It  is  very  true,"  said  Mrs.  Baliol;  "one  would  think 
it  should  have  struck  the  observers  greatly,  and  yet  it 
scarcely  did  so.  For  me,  I  was  no  Highlander  myself, 
and  the  Highland  chiefs  of  old,  of  whom  I  certainly  knew 
several,  had  little  in  their  manners  to  distinguish  them 
from  the  lowland  gentry  when  they  mixed  in  society  in 
Edinburgh,  and  assumed  the  lowland  dress.  Their  peculiar 
character  was  for  the  clansmen  at  home  ;  and  you  must  not 
imagine  that  they  swaggered  about  in  plaids  and  broad- 
swords at  the  Cross,  or  came  to  the  Assembly  Rooms  in 
bonnets  and  kilts." 

*  See  Note  33. 


CHRONICLES  OF  TEE  CANONGATE  389 

*'l  remember,"  said  I,  that  Swift,  in  his  Journal,  tells 
Stella  he  had  dined  in  the  house  of  a  Scots  nobleiiian,  with 
two  Highhind  chiefs,  whom  he  had  found  as  well-bred  men 
as  he  hud  ever  met  with/^  * 

"  Very  likely,"  said  my  friend.  ''  The  extremes  of  society 
approach  much  more  closely  to  each  other  than  perhaps  the 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick's  expected.  The  savage  is  always  to  a 
certain  degree  polite.  Besides,  going  always  armed,  and 
having  a  very  punctilious  idea  of  their  own  gentility  and 
consequence,  they  usually  behaved  to  each  other  and  to  the 
Lowlanders  with  a  good  deal  of  formal  politeness,  which 
sometimes  even  procured  them  the  character  of  insincerity. " 

"  Falsehood  belongs  to  an  early  period  of  society,  as  well 
as  the  deferential  forms  which  we  style  politeness,"  I  replied. 
"A  child  does  not  see  the  least  moral  beauty  in  truth  until 
he  has  been  flogged  half  a  dozen  times.  It  is  so  easy,  and 
apparently  so  natural,  to  deny  what  you  cannot  be  easily 
convicted  of,  that  a  savage  as  well  as  a  child  lies  to  excuse 
himself,  almost  as  instinctively  as  he  raises  his  hand  to 
protect  his  head.  The  old  saying,  "  confess  and  be  hanged," 
carries  much  argument  in  it.  I  observed  a  remark  the  other 
day  in  old  Birrell.  He  mentions  that  M'Gregor  of  Glenstrae  f 
and  some  of  his  people  had  surrendered  themselves  to  one 
of  the  Earls  of  Argyle,  upon  the  express  condition  that  they 
should  be  conveyed  safe  into  England.  The  MacCallan 
Mhor  of  the  day  kept  the  word  of  promise,  but  it  was  only 
to  the  ear.  He  indeed  sent  his  captives  to  Berwick,  where 
they  had  an  airing  on  the  other  side  of  the  Tweed,  but  it 
was  under  the  custody  of  a  strong  guard,  by  whom  they 
were  brought  back  to  Edinburgh  and  delivered  to  the 
executioner.  This  Birrell  calls  "keeping  a  Highlandman's 
promise." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mrs.  Baliol,  "  I  might  add,  that  many  of 
the  Highland  chiefs  whom  I  knew  in  former  days  had  been 
brought  up  in  France,  which  might  improve  their  politeness, 
though  perluips  it  did  not  amend  their  sincerity.  But,  con- 
sidering that,  belonging  to  the  depressed  and  defeated  fac- 
tion in  the  state,  they  were  compelled  sometimes  to  use 
dissimulation,  you  must  set  their  uniform  fidelity  to  their 
friends  against  their  occasional  falsehood  to  their  enemies, 

*  Extract  op  Journal  to  Stella. — "  I  dined  to-daj'  (12th  March 
1712)  with  Lord  Treasurer  and  two  gentlemen  of  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  yet  very  polite  men."— Swift's  Works,  vol.  iii.  p.  7,  Edin. 
1824. 

t  See  Note  34 


3W0  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

and  then  you  will  not  judge  poor  John  Highlandman  too 
severely.  They  were  in  a  state  of  society  where  hright  lights 
are  strongly  contrasted  with  deep  shadows." 

"  It  is  to  that  point  I  would  bring  you,  ma  belle  cousine, 
and  therefore  they  are  most  proper  subjects  for  composition." 

"  And  you  want  to  turn  composer,  my  good  friend,  and 
set  my  old  tales  to  some  popular  tune  ?  But  there  have 
been  too  many  composers,  if  that  be  the  word,  in  the  field 
before.  The  Highlands  were  indeed  a  rich  mine  ;  but  they 
have,  I  think,  been  fairly  wrought  out,  as  a  good  tune  is 
grinded  into  vulgarity  when  it  descends  to  the  hurdy-gurdy 
and  the  barrel-organ." 

''  If  it  be  really  tune,"  I  replied,  "  it  will  recover  its  better 
qualities  when  it  gets  into  the  hands  of  better  artists." 

"Umph!"said  Mrs.  Baliol,  tapping  her  box,  "we  are 
happy  in  our  own  good  opinion  this  evening,  Mr.  Croftan- 
gry.  And  so  you  think  you  can  restore  the  gloss  to  the 
tartan,  which  it  has  lost  by  being  dragged  through  so  many 
fingers  ?  " 

"  With  your  assistance  to  procure  materials,  my  dear  lady, 
much,  I  think,  may  be  done." 

'*  Well,  I  must  do  my  best,  I  suppose  ;  though  all  I  know 
about  the  Gael  is  but  of  little  consequence.  Indeed,  I 
gathered  if  chiefly  from  Donald  MacLeish." 

"  And  who  might  Donald  MacLeish  be  ?  " 

**  Neither  bard  nor  seannachie,  I  assure  you,  nor  monk 
nor  hermit,  the  approved  authorities  for  old  traditions. 
Donald  was  as  good  a  postilion  as  ever  drove  a  chaise  and 
pair  between  Glencroe  and  Inverary.  I  assure  you,  when  I 
give  you  my  Highland  anecdotes,  you  will  hear  much  of 
Donald  MacLeish.  He  was  Alice  Lambskin's  beau  and  mine 
through  a  long  Highland  tour." 

"  But  when  am  I  to  possess  these  anecdotes  ?  Y"ou  answer 
me  as  Harley  did  poor  Prior — 

Let  that  be  done  which  Mat  doth  say. 
"  Yea,"  quoth  the  earl,  "  but  not  to-day." 

"  Well,  monheati  cousin,  if  you  begin  to  remind  me  of  my 
cruelty,  I  must  remind  yon  it  has  struck  nine  on  the  Abbey 
clock,  and  it  is  time  you  were  going  home  to  Little  Croftan- 
gry.  For  my  promise  to  assist  your  antiquarian  researches, 
be  assured  I  will  one  day  keep  it  to  the  utmost  extent.  It 
shall  not  be  a  Highlandman's  promise,  as  your  old  citizen 
calls  it." 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE  391 

I  by  this  time  suspected  the  purpose  of  my  friend's  pro- 
crastination ;  and  it  saddened  my  heart  to  reflect  that  I  was 
not  to  get  the  information  which  I  desired,  excepting  in  the 
shape  of  a  legacy.  I  found,  accordingly,  in  the  packet 
transmitted  to  me  after  the  excellent  lady's  death,  several 
anecdotes  respecting  the  Highlands,  from  which  I  have 
selected  that  which  follows,  chiefly  on  account  of  its  possess- 
ing great  power  over  the  feelings  of  my  critical  house- 
keeper, Janet  M'Evoy,  who  wept  most  bitterly  when  I  read 
it  to  her.  It  is,  however,  but  a  very  simple  tale,  and  may 
have  no  interest  for  persons  beyond  Janet's  rank  of  life  of 
understanding. 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW 


CHAPTER  I 

It  wound  as  near  as  near  could  be, 

But  what  it  is  she  cannot  tell ; 

On  tlie  other  side  it  seemed  to  be 

Of  the  huge  broad- breasted  old  oak-tree. 

Coleridge. 

Mrs.  Bethun"e  Baliol's  memorandum  begins  thus  : — 

It  is  five-and-thirty,  or  perhaps  nearer  forty,  years  ago, 
since,  to  relieve  the  dejection  of  spirits  occasioned  by  a 
great  family  loss  sustained  two  or  three  montlis  before,  I 
undertook  what  was  called  the  short  Highland  tour.  This 
had  become  in  some  degree  fashionable  ;  but  though  the 
military  roads  were  excellent,  yet  the  accommodation  was  so 
indifferent,  that  it  was  reckoned  a  little  adventure  to  ac- 
complish it.  Besides,  the  Highlands,  though  now  as  peace- 
able as  any  part  of  King  George's  dominions,  was  a  sound 
which  still  carried  terror,  while  so  many  survived  who  had 
Avitnessed  the  insurrection  of  1745  ;  and  a  vague  idea  of  fear 
was  impressed  on  many,  as  they  looked  from  the  towers  of 
Stirling  northward  to  the  huge  chain  of  mountains,  which 
rises  like  a  dusky  rampart  to  conceal  in  its  recesses  a  people 
whose  dress,  manners,  and  language  differed  still  very  much 
from  those  of  their  Lowland  countrymen.  For  my  part,  I 
come  of  a  race  not  greatly  subject  to  apprehensions  arising 
from  imagination  only.  I  had  some  Highland  relatives, 
knew  several  of  their  families  of  distinction  ;  and,  though 
only  having  the  company  of  my  bower-maiden,  Mrs.  Alice 
Lambskin,  I  went  on  my  journey  fearless. 

But  then  I  had  a  guide  and  cicerone  almost  equal  to  Great- 
heart  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  in  no  less  a  person  than 
Donald  MacLeish,  the  postilion  whom  I  hired  at  Stirling, 
with  a  pair  of  able-bodied  horses,  as  steady  as  Donald  him- 
self, to  drag  my  carriage,  my  duenna,  and  myself,  whereso- 
ever it  was  my  pleasure  to  go. 


39^'.  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Donald  MacLeisli  was  one  of  a  race  of  post-boys  whom,  I 
suppose,  mail-coaches  and  steam-boats  have  put  out  of 
fashion.  They  were  to  be  found  chiefly  at  Perth,  Stirling, 
or  Glasgow,  where  they  and  their  horses  were  usually  hired 
by  travelers,  or  tourists,  to  accomplish  such  journeys  of 
business  or  pleasure  as  they  might  have  to  perform  in  the 
land  of  the  Gael.  This  class  of  persons  approached  to  the 
character  of  what  is  called  abroad  a  conthicteur ;  or  might 
be  compared  to  the  sailing-master  on  board  a  British  ship  of 
war,  who  follows  out  after  his  own  manner  the  course  vhich 
the  captain  commands  him  to  observe.  You  explained  to 
your  postilion  the  length  of  your  tour,  and  the  objects  you 
were  desirous  it  should  embrace ;  and  you  found  him  perfectly 
competent  to  fix  the  places  of  rest  or  refreshment,  with  due 
attention  that  those  should  be  chosen  with  reference  to  your 
convenience,  and  to  any  points  of  interest  which  you  might 
desire  to  visit. 

The  qualifications  of  such  a  person  were  necessarily  much 
superior  to  those  of  the  "'  first  ready,"  who  gallops  thrice  a 
day  over  the  same  ten  miles.  Donald  MacLeish,  besides 
being  quite  alert  at  repairing  all  ordinary  accidents  to  his 
horses  and  carriage,  and  in  making  shift  to  support  them, 
where  forage  was  scarce,  with  such  substitutes  as  bannocks 
and  cakes,  was  likewise  a  man  of  intellectual  resources.  He 
had  acquired  a  general  knowledge  of  the  traditional  stories 
of  the  country  which  he  had  traversed  so  often  ;  and,  if 
encouraged  (for  Donald  was  a  man  of  the  most  decorous 
reserve),  he  would  willingly  point  out  to  you  the  site  of  the 
principal  clan-battles,  and  recount  the  most  remarkable 
legends  by  which  the  road,  and  the  objects  which  occurred 
in  traveling  it,  had  been  distinguished.  There  was  some 
originality  in  the  man's  habits  of  thinking  and  expressing 
himself,  his  turn  for  legendary  lore  strangely  contrasting 
with  a  portion  of  the  knowing  shrewdness  belonging  to  his 
actual  occupation,  which  made  his  conversation  amuse  the 
way  well  enough. 

Add  to  this,  Donald  knew  all  his  peculiar  duties  in  the 
country  which  he  traversed  so  frequently.  He  could  tell,  to 
a  day,  when  they  would  be  "  killing  lamb  "  at  Tyndrum  or 
Glenuilt,  so  that  the  stranger  would  have  some  chance  of 
being  fed  like  a  Christian  ;  and  knew  to  a  mile  the  last 
village  where  it  was  possible  to  procure  a  wheaten  loaf,  for 
the  guidance  of  those  who  were  little  familiar  with  the 
Land  of  Cakes.  He  was  acquainted  with  the  road  every 
mile,  and  could  tell  to  an  inch  which  side  of  a  Highland 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  %. 

bridge  was  passable,  which  decidedly  dangerous.*  In  short, 
Donald  MacLeish  was  not  only  our  faithful  attendant  and 
steady  servant,  but  our  humble  and  obliging  friend  ;  and 
though  I  have  known  the  half-classical  cicerone  of  Italy,  the 
talkative  French  valet-de-place,  and  even  the  muleteer  of 
Spain,  who  piques  himself  on  being  a  maize-eater,  and  whose 
honor  is  not  to  be  questioned  without  danger,  I  do  not  think 
I  have  ever  had  so  sensible  and  intelligent  a  guide. 

Our  motions  were,  of  course,  under  Donald's  direction  •• 
and  it  frequently  happened,  when  the  weather  was  serene, 
that  we  preferred  halting  to  rest  his  horses  even  where  there 
was  no  established  stage,  and  taking  our  refreshment  under 
a  crag,  from  which  leaped  a  waterfall,  or  beside  the  verge  of 
a  fountain,  enamelled  with  verdant  turf  and  wild-flowers. 
Donald  had  an  eye  for  such  spots,  and  though  he  had,  I 
daresay,  never  read  Gil  Bias  or  Don  Quixote,  yet  he  chose 
such  halting-places  as  Le  Sage  or  Cervantes  would  have  de- 
scribed. Very  often,  as  he  observed  the  pleasure  I  took  in 
conversing  with  the  country  people,  he  would  manage  to  fix 
our  place  of  rest  near  a  cottage  where  there  was  some  old 
Gael  whose  broadsword  had  blazed  at  Falkirk  or  Preston, 
and  who  seemed  the  frail  yet  faithful  record  of  times  which 
had  passed  away.  Or  he  would  contrive  to  quarter  us,  as 
far  as  a  cup  of  tea  went,  upon  the  hospitality  of  some  parish 
minister  of  worth  and  intelligence,  or  some  country  family 
of  the  better  class,  who  mingled  with  the  wild  simplicity  of 
their  original  manners,  and  their  ready  and  hospitable  wel- 
come, a  sort  of  courtesy  belonging  to  a  people  the  lowest  of 
whom  are  accustomed  to  consider  themselves  as  being,  ac- 
cording to  the  Spanish  phrase,  *'  as  good  gentlemen  as  the 
king,  only  not  quite  so  rich." 

To  all  "^such  persons  Donald  MacLeish  was  well  known, 
and  his  introduction  passed  as  current  as  if  we  had  brought 
letters  from  some  high  chief  of  the  country. 

Sometimes  it  happened  that  the  Highland  hospitality, 
which  welcomed  us  with  all  the  variety  of  mountain  fare, 
preparations  of  milk  and  eggs,  and  girdle-cakes  of  various 
kinds,  as  well  as  more  substantial  dainties,  according  to  the 
inhabitant's  means  of  regaling  the  passenger,  descended 
rather  too  exuberantly  on  Donald  MacLeish  in  the  shape  of 
mountain  dew.  Poor  Donald  !  he  was  on  such  occasions 
Uke  Gideon's  fleece,  moist  with  the  noble  element,  which, 
of  course,  fell  not  on  us.     But  it  was  his   only  fault,  and 

*See  Highland  Bridges.    Note  25. 


ms  WA  VERLEY  N  0  VEL  S 

when   pressed    to   drink   doch-an-dorroch  to  my  ladyship's 
good  health,  it  would  have  been  ill  taken  to  have  refused  the      i 
pledge,  nor  was  he  willing  to  do  such  discourtesy.     It  was,      i 
I  repeat,  his  only  fault,  nor  had  we  any  great  right  to  com-      s 
plain  ;  for  if  it  rendered  him  a  little  more  talkative,  it  aug-      i 
mented  his  ordinary  share  of  punctilious  civility,  and  he  only      r 
drove  slower,  and  talked  longer  and  more  jjompously,  than 
when  he  had  not  come  by  a  drop  of  usquebaugh.     It  was, 
we  remarked,  only  on    such   occasions  that  Donald   talked 
with  an  air  of  importance  of  the  family  of  MacLeish  ;  and     a 
we  had  no  title  to  be  scrupulous  in  censuring  a  foible  the     ai 
consequences  of  which  were  confined  within  such  innocent   I  of 
limits.  j'let 

AVe  became  so  much  accustomed  to  Donald's  mode  of  '•  ¥■ 
managing  us,  that  we  observed  with  some  interest  the  art 
which  he  used  to  produce  a  little  agreeable  surprise,  by  con- 
cealing from  us  the  spot  where  he  proposed  our  halt  to  be  i 
made,  when  it  was  of  an  unusual  and  interesting  character. 
This  was  so  much  his  wont,  that,  when  he  made  apologies  at 
setting  oif,  for  being  obliged  to  stop  in  some  strange,  soli- 
tary place  till  the  horses  should  eat  the  corn  which  he 
brought  on  with  them  for  that  purpose,  our  imagination 
used  to  be  on  the  stretch  to  guess  what  romantic  retreat  he 
had  secretly  fixed  upon  for  our  noontide  baiting-place. 

We  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  morning  at  the  de- 
lightful village  of  Dalmally,  and  had  gone  upon  the  lake 
under  the  guidance  of  the  excellent  clergyman  who  was  then 
incumbent  at  Glenorquhy,*  and  had  heard  an  hundred 
legends  of  the  stern  chiefs  of  Loch  Awe,f  Duncan  with  the 
thrum  bonnet,  and  the  other  lords  of  the  now  moldering  '^i 
towers  of  Kilchurn.  Thus  it  was  later  than  usual  when  we 
set  out  on  our  journey,  after  a  hint  or  two  from  Donald  con- 
cerning the  length  of  the  way  to  the  next  stage,  as  there 
was  no  good  halting-place  between  Dalmally  and  Oban. 

Having  bid  adieu  to  our  venerable  and  kind  cicerone, 
we  proceeded  on  our  tour,  winding  round  the  tremendous 
mountain  called  Ben  Cruachan,  which  rushes  down  in  all  its 
majesty  of  rocks  and  wilderness  on  the  lake,  leaving  only  aj 
pass,  in  which,  notwithstanding  its  extreme  strength,  the]  len 
warlike  clan  of  MacDougal  of  Lorn  were  almost  destroyed! 
by  the  sagacious  Robert  Bruce.  That  king,  the  WellingtoEjPlttio 
of  his  day,  had  accomplished  by  a  forced  march,  the  unex-' 
pected  maneuver  of   forcing   a  body  of  troops  round  th 

*  This  venerable  and  hospitable  gentleman's  name  was  Maolut^ t™,im., 

t  See  Note  26.  m^l 


m. 
lie  I 
iicel 


fwh 


k\ 


th(    'Seel 


THE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  399 

other  side  of  the  mountain,  and  thus  placed  them  in  the  flank 
and  in  the  rear  of  the  men  of  Lorn,  whom  at  the  same  time 
he  attacked  in  front.  The  great  number  of  cairns  yet  visible, 
as  you  descend  the  pass  on  the  westward  side,  shows  the  ex- 
tent of  the  vengeance  which  Bruce  exhausted  on  his  invet- 
erate and  personal  enemies.  I  am,  you  know,  the  sister  of 
soldiers,  and  it  has  since  struck  me  forcibly  that  the  maneu- 
ver which  Donald  described  resembled  those  of  Wellington 
or  of  Bonaparte.  He  was  a  great  man  Robert  Bruce,  even 
a  Baliol  must  admit  that ;  although  it  begins  now  to  be 
allowed  that  his  title  to  the  crown  was  scarce  so  good  as  that 
of  the  unfortunate  family  with  whom  he  contended.  But 
let  that  pass.  The  slaughter  had  been  the  greater,  as  the 
deep  and  raj^id  river  Awe  is  disgorged  from  the  lake,  just  ir 
the  rear  of  the  fugitives,  and  encircles  the  base  of  the  tre- 
mendous mountain  ;  so  that  the  retreat  of  the  unfortunate 
fliers  was  intercepted  on  all  sides  by  the  inaccessible  charac- 
ter of  the  country,  which  had  seemed  to  promise  them  de- 
fense and  protection.* 

Musing,  like  the  Irish  lady  in  the  song,  "  upon  things 
which  are  long  enough  a-gone,"  f  we  felt  no  impatience  at 
the  slow,  and  almost  creeping,  pace  with  which  our  con- 
ductor proceeded  along  General  Wade's  military  road,  which 
never  or  rarely  condescends  to  turn  aside  from  the  steepest 
ascent,  but  proceeds  right  up  and  down  hill,  with  the  indif- 
ference to  height  and  hollow,  steep  or  level,  indicated  by 
the  old  Roman  engineers.  Still,  however,  the  substantial 
excellence  of  these  great  works — for  such  are  the  military 
highways  in  the  Highlands — deserved  the  compliment  of  the 
poet,  who,  whether  he  came  from  our  sister  kingdom,  and 
spoke  in  his  own  dialect,  or  whether  he  supposed  those 
whom  he  addressed  might  have  some  national  pretension  to 
the  second  sight,  produced  the  celebrated  couplet — 

Had  you  but  seen  these  roads  before  they  were  made, 
You  would  hold  up  your  hands,  and  bless  General  Wade. 

1  Nothing  indeed  can  be  more  wonderful  than  to  see  these 
.  wildernesses  penetrated  and  pervious  in  every  quarter  by 
broad  accesses  of  the  best  possible  construction,  and  so 
superior  to  what  the  country  could  have  demanded  for  many 

*  See  Battle  betwixt  Bruce  and  Macdougal  of  Lorn.     Note  27. 

t  This  is  a  line  from  a  very  pathetic  ballad  which  I  heard  sung 
by  one  of  the  young  ladies  of  Edgeworthstown  in  1825.  I  do  not 
know  that  it  has  been  printed. 


400  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

centuries  for  any  pacific  purpose  of  commercial  interconrse. 
Thus  the  traces  of  war  are  sometimes  happily  accommodated 
to  the  purposes  of  peace.  The  victories  of  Bonaparte  have 
been  without  results  ;  but  his  road  over  the  Simplon  will 
long  be  the  communication  betwixt  peaceful  countries,  who 
will  apply  to  the  ends  of  commerce  and  friendly  intercourse 
that  gigantic  work  which  was  formed  for  the  ambitious  pur- 
pose of  warlike  invasion. 

While  we  were  thus  stealing  along,  we  gradually  turned 
round  the  shoulder  of  Ben  Cruachan,  and  descending  the 
course  of  the  foaming  and  rapid  Awe,  left  behind  us  the  ex- 
panse of  the  majestic  lake  which  gives  birth  to  that  impetuous 
river.  The  rocks  and  precipices  which  stooped  down  per- 
pendicularly on  our  path  on  the  right  hand  exhibited  a  few 
remains  of  the  wood  which  once  clothed  them,  but  which 
had,  in  latter  times,  been  felled  to  supply,  Donald  MacLeish 
informed  us,  the  iron  founderies  at  the  Bunawe.  This  made 
us  fix  our  eyes  with  interest  on  one  large  oak,  which  grew 
on  the  left  hand  towards  the  river.  It  seemed  a  tree  of  ex- 
traordinary magnitude  and  picturesque  beauty,  and  stood 
just  where  there  appeared  to  be  a  few  roods  of  open  ground 
lying  among  huge  stones,  which  had  rolled  down  from  tha 
mountain.  To  add  to  the  romance  of  the  situation,  the  spot 
of  clear  gronnd  extended  round  the  foot  of  a  proud-browed 
rock,  from  the  summit  of  which  leaped  a  mountain  stream 
in  a  fall  of  sixty  feet,  in  which  it  was  dissolved  into  foam 
and  dew.  At  the  bottom  of  the  fall  the  rivulet  with  diffi^ 
cnlty  collected,  like  a  routed  general,  its  dispersed  forces, 
and,  as  if  tamed  by  its  descent,  found  a  noiseless  passage, 
through  the  heath  to  join  the  Awe. 

I  was  much  struck  with  the  tree  and  waterfall,  and  wishe(J 
myself  nearer  them  ;  not  that  I  thought  of  sketch-book  or 
portfolio — for,  in  my  younger  days,  misses  were  not  accuS' 
tomed  to  black-lead  pencils,  unless  they  could  use  them  to 
some  good  purpose — but  merely  to  indulge  myself  with  a 
closer  view.  Donald  immediately  opened  the  chaise  door, 
but  observed  it  was  rough  walking  down  the  brae,  and  that 
I  would  see  the  tree  better  by  keeping  the  road  for  a  hun^ 
dred  yards  farther,  when  it  passed  closer  to  the  spot,  foi 
which  he  seemed,  however,  to  have  no  predilection.  "  Hf 
knew,"  he  said,  "  a  far  bigger  tree  than  that  nearer  Bunawe 
and  it  was  a  place  where  there  was  flat  ground  for  the  car 
riage  to  stand,  which  it  could  jimply  do  on  these  braes ;  b 
just  as  my  leddyship  liked." 

My  ladyship  did  choose  rather  to  look  at  the  fine  tree  be 


U(    Jwi, 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  4UI 

fore  me  than  to  pass  it  by  in  hopes  of  a  finer  ;  so  we  walked 
beside  the  carriage  till  we  should  come  to  a  point  from 
which,  Donald  assured  us,  we  might,  without  scrambling, 
go  as  near  the  tree  as  we  chose,  ''  though  he  wadna  advise 
us  to  go  nearer  than  the  highroad." 

There  was  something  grave  and  mysterious  in  Donald's 
snn-browned  countenance  when  he  gave  us  this  intimation, 
and  his  manner  was  so  different  from  his  usual  frankness, 
that  my  female  curiosity  was  set  in  motion.  We  walked  on 
the  whilst,  and  I  found  the  tree,  of  which  we  had  now  lost 
sight  by  the  intervention  of  some  rising  ground,  was  really 
more  distant  than  I  had  at  first  supposed.  "  I  could  have 
sworn  now,"  said  I  to  my  cicerone,  "  that  yon  tree  and  water- 
fall was  the  very  place  where  you  intended  to  make  a  stop 
to-day." 

"The  Lord  forbid  !"  said  Donald,  hastily. 

"  And  for  what,  Donald  ?  why  should  you  be  willing  to 
pass  so  pleasant  a  spot  ?  " 

"  It's  ower  near  Dalmally,  my  leddy,  to  corn  the  beasts  : 
it  would  bring  their  dinner  ower  near  their  breakfast,  poor 
things  ;  an,'  besides,  the  place  is  not  canny." 

"Oh  !  then  the  mystery  is  out.  There  is  a  bogle  or  a 
brownie,  a  witch  or  a  gyre-carlin,  a  bodacli  or  a  fairy  in  the 


case 


"  The  ne'er  a  bit,  my  leddy  :  ye  are  clean  aff  the  road,  as 
I  may  say.  But  if  your  leddyship  will  just  hae  patience, 
and  wait  till  we  are  by  the  place  and  out  of  the  glen,  I'll  tell 
ye  all  about  it.  There  is  no  much  luck  in  speaking  of  such 
things  in  the  place  they  chanced  in." 

•I  was  obliged  to  suspend  my  curiosity,  observing,  that  if 
I  persisted  in  twisting  the  discourse  one  way  while  Donald 
was  twining  it  another,  I  should  make  his  objection,  like  a 
hempen  cord,  just  so  much  the  tougher.  At  length  the 
promised  turn  of  the  road  brought  us  within  fifty  paces  of 
the  tree  which  I  desired  to  admire,  and  I  now  saw  to  my 
surprise  that  there  was  a  human  habitation  among  the  cliffs 
which  surrounded  it.  It  was  a  hut  of  the  least  dimensions, 
and  most  miserable  description,  that  I  ever  saw  even  in  the 
Highlands.  The  walls  of  sod,  or  "  divot,"  as  the  Scotch 
call  it,  were  not  four  feet  high  ;  the  roof  was  of  turf,  re- 
paired with  reeds  and  sedges  ;  the  chimney  was  composed 
of  clay,  bound  round  by  straw  ropes  ;  and  the  whole  walls, 
roof,  and  chimney  were  alike  covered  with  the  vegetation  of 
house-leek,  rye-grass,  and  moss,  common  to  decayed  cot- 
tages formed  of  such  materials.     There  was  not  the  slightest 


402  WA  VERLE  T  NO  VEL  S 

vestige  of  a  kale-yard,  the  usual  accompaniment  of  the  very 
worst  huts  ;  and  of  living  things  we  saw  nothing,  save  a  kid 
which  was  browsing  on  the  roof  of  the  hut,  and  a  goat,  its 
mother,  at  some  distance,  feeding  betwixt  the  oak  and  the 
river  Awe. 

"  What  man,"  I  could  not  help  exclaiming,  "  can  have 
committed  sin  deep  enough  to  deserve  such  a  miserable 
dwelling  ! " 

"  Sin  enough,"  said  Donald  MacLeish,  with  a  half-sup- 
pressed groan  ;  "  and  God  He  knoweth,  misery  enough 
too  ;  and  it  is  no  man's  dwelling  neither,  but  a  woman's." 

"'A  woman's!''  I  repeated,  "and  in  so  lonely  a  place. 
What  sort  of  a  woman  can  she  be  ?  " 

"  Come  this  w^ay,  my  leddy,  and  you  may  judge  that  for 
yourself,"  said  Donald.  And  by  advancing  a  few  steps,  and 
making  a  sharp  turn  to  the  left,  we  gained  a  sight  of  the 
side  of  the  great  broad-breasted  oak,  in  the  direction  op- 
posed to  that  in  which  we  had  hitherto  seen  it. 

"  If  she  keeps  her  old  Avont,  she  will  be  there  at  this  hour 
of  the  day,"  said  Donald  ;  but  immediately  became  silent, 
and  pointed  with  his  finger,  as  one  afraid'  of  being  over- 
heard. I  looked,  and  beheld,  not  without  some  sense  of 
awe,  a  female  form  seated  by  the  stem  of  the  oak,  with  her 
head  drooping,  her  hands  clasped,  and  a  dark-colored  man- 
tle drawn  over  her  head,  exactly  as  Jndah  is  represented  in 
the  Syrian  medals  as  seated  under  her  palm-tree.  I  was  in- 
fected with  the  fear  and  reverence  which  my  guide  seemed 
to  entertain  towards  this  solitary  being,  nor  did  I  think  of 
advancing  towards  her  to  obtain  a  nearer  view  until  I  had 
cast  an  inquiring  look  on  Donald  ;  to  w^hich  he  replied  iji  a 
half- whisper — "  She  has  been  a  fearfu'  bad  woman,  my 
leddy." 

''  Mad  women,  said  you,"  replied  I,  hearing  him  perfectly  ; 
"  then  she  is  perhaps  dangerous  ?  " 

"  No,  she  is  not  mad,"  replied  Donald  ;  "  for  then  it  may 
be  she  would  be  happier  than  she  is  ;  though  when  she 
thinks  on  what  she  has  done,  and  caused  to  be  done,  rather 
than  yield  up  a  hair-breadth  of  her  ain  wicked  will,  it  is  not 
likely  she  can  be  very  well  settled.  But  she  neither  is  mad 
nor  mischievous  ;  and  yet,  my  leddy,  I  think  you  had  best 
not  go  nearer  to  her."  And  then,  in  a  few  hurried  words, 
he  made  me  acquainted  with  the  story  which  I  am  now  to 
tell  more  in  detail.  I  heard  the  narrative  with  a  mixture 
of  horror  and  sympathy,  which  at  once  impelled  me  to  ap- 
proach the  sufferer,  and  speak  to  her  the  words  of  comfort. 


\ 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  403 

or  rather  of  pity,  and  at  the  same  time  made  me  afraid  to  do 

This  indeed  was  the  feeling  with  which  she  was  regarded 
"by  the  Highhinders  in  the  neighborhood,  who  looked  upon 
Elspat  MacTavish,  or  the  Woman  of  the  Tree,  as  they  called 
her,  as  the  Greeks  considered  those  who  were  pursued  by 
the  Furies,  and  endured  the  mental  torment  consequent  on 
great  criminal  actions.  They  regarded  such  unhappy  beings 
as  Orestes  and  (Edipus  as  being  less  the  voluntary  per- 
petrators of  their  crimes  than  as  the  passive  instruments  by 
which  the  terrible  decrees  of  Destiny  had  been  accomplished  ; 
and  the  fear  with  which  they  beheld  them  was  not  un- 
niiiigled  with  veneration. 

I  ;dso  learned  farther  from  Donald  MacLeish,  that  there 
was  some  apprehenison  of  ill  luck  attending  those  who  had 
ithe  boldness  to  approach  too  near,  or  disturb  the  awful 
'Solitude  of  a  being  so  unutterably  miserable  :  that  it  was 
isupposed  that  whomsoever  approached  her  must  experience 
in  some  respect  the  contagion  of  her  wretchedness. 

It  was  therefore  with  some  reluctance  that  Donald  saw 
me  prepare  to  obtain  a  nearer  view  of  the  sufferer,  and  that 
he  himself  followed  to  assist  me  in  the  descent  down  a  very 
rough  path.  I  believe  his  regard  for  me  conquered  some 
ominous  feelings  in  his  own  breast,  which  connected  his 
duty  on  this  occasion  with  the  presaging  fear  of  lame 
horses,  lost  linch-pins,  overturns,  and  other  perilous  chances 
;of  the  postilion's  life. 

i  I  am  not  sure  if  my  own  courage  would  have  carried  me 
■so  close  to  Elspat,  had  he  not  followed.  There  was  in  her 
countenance  the  stern  abstraction  of  hopeless  and  over- 
powering sorrow,  mixed  with  the  contending  feelings  of 
remorse,  and  of  the  pride  which  struggled  to  conceal  it. 
She  guessed,  perhaps,  that  it  was  curiosity,  arising  out  of 
her  uncommon  story,  which  induced  me  to  intrude  on  her 
solitude  ;  and  she  could  not  be  pleased  that  a  fate  like  hers 
had  been  the  theme  of  a  traveler's  amusement.  Yet  the 
look  with  which  she  regarded  me  was  one  of  scorn  instead 
of  embarrassment.  The  opinion  of  the  world  and  all  its 
children  could  not  add  or  take  an  iota  from  her  load  of 
misery  ;  and,  save  from  the  half-smile  that  seemed  to  in- 
timate the  contempt  of  a  being  rapt  by  the  very  intensity  of 
her  affliction  above  the  sphere  of  ordinary  humanities,  she 
seemed  as  indifferent  to  my  gaze  as  if  she  had  been  a  dead 
corpse  or  a  marble  statute. 

Elspat   was   above   the  middle   stature  j    her   hair,  now 


40^  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

grizzled,  was  still  profuse,  and  it  had  been  of  the  most  decided 
black.  So  were  her  eyes,  in  which,  contradicting  the  stern 
and  rigid  features  of  her  countenance,  there  shone  the  wild 
and  troubled  light  that  indicates  an  unsettled  mind.  Her 
hair  was  wrapped  round  a  silver  bodkin  with  some  attention  to 
neatness,  and  her  dark  mantle  was  disposed  around  her  with 
a  degree  of  taste,  though  the  materials  were  of  the  most 
ordinary  sort. 

After  gazing  on  this  victim  of  guilt  and  calamity  till  I 
was  ashamed  to  remain  silent,  though  uncertain  how  I 
ought  to  address  her,  I  began  to  express  my  surprise  at 
her  choosing  such  a  desert  and  deplorable  dwelling.  She 
cut  short  these  expressions  of  sympathy,  by  answering  in  a 
stern  voice,  without  the  least  change  of  countenance  or  pos- 
ture— "Daughter  of  the  stranger,  he  has  told  you  my 
story."  I  was  silenced  at  once,  and  felt  how  little  all 
earthly  accommodation  must  seem  to  the  mind  which  had 
such  subjects  as  hers  for  rumination.  Without  again  at- 
tempting to  open  the  conversation,  I  took  a  piece  of  gold 
from  my  purse,  for  Donald  had  intimated  she  lived  on  alms, 
expecting  she  would  at  least  stretch  her  hand  to  receive  it. 
But  she  neither  accepted  nor  rejected  the  gift  ;  she  did  not 
even  seem  to  notice  it,  though  twenty  times  as  valuable, 
probably,  as  was  usually  offered.  I  was  obliged  to  place  it 
on  her  knee,  saying  involuntarily,  as  I  did  so,  "  May  God 
pardon  you,  and  relieve  you  ! "  I  shall  never  forget  the 
look  which  she  cast  up  to  Heaven,  nor  the  tone  in  which 
she  exclaimed,  in  the  very  words  of  my  old  friend,  John 
Home — 

"  My  beautiful— my  brave  ! " 

It  was  the  language  of  nature,  and  arose  from  the  heart  of 
the  deprived  mother,  as  it  did  from  that  gifted  imaginative 
poet,  while  furnishing  with  appropriate  expressions  the 
ideal  grief  of  Lady  Randolph. 


Ions 
'hi 


CHAPTER  II 

O,  I'm  come  to  the  Low  Country, 

Och,  och,  ohonochie, 
Without  a  penny  in  my  pouch 

To  buy  a  meal  for  me. 
I  was  the  proudest  of  my  clan, 

Long,  long  may  I  repine  ; 
And  Donald  was  the  bravest  man, 

And  Donald  he  was  mine. 

Old  Song. 

;Elspat  had  enjoyed  liappy  days,  though  her  age  had  sunk 
into  hopeless  and  inconsolable  sorrow  and  distress.  She  was 
once  the  beautiful  and  happy  wife  of  Hamish  MacTavish,  for 
whom  his  strength  and  feats  of  prowess  had  gained  tlie  title 
of  MacTavish  Mhor.  His  life  was  turbulent  and  dangerous, 
his  habits  being  of  the  old  Highland  stamp,  which  esteemed 
it  shame  to  want  anything  that  could  be  had  for  the  taking, 
'Tliose  in  the  Lowland  line  who  lay  near  him,  and  desired  to 
!  enjoy  their  lives  and  property  in  quiet,  were  contented  to 
pav  him  a  small  composition,  in  name  of  protection-money, 
and  comforted  themselves  with  the  old  proverb,  that  it  was 
"  better  to  fleech  the  deil  than  fight  him."  Others,  who 
accounted  such  composition  dishonorable,  were  often  sur- 
prised by  MacTavish  Mhor  and  his  associates  and  followers, 
who  usually  inflicted  an  adequate  penalty,  either  in  person 
or  property,  or  both.  The  creagh  is  yet  remembered  in 
Avliich  he  swept  one  hundred  and  fifty  cows  from  Monteith 
in  one  drove  ;  and  how  he  placed  the  laird  of  Ballybught 
naked  in  a  slough,  for  having  threatened  to  send  for  a  party 
of  the  Highland  Watch  to  protect  liis  property. 

Wlmtever  were  occasionally  the  triumphs  of  this  daring 
cateran,  they  were  often  exchanged  for  reverses  ;  and  his 
narrow  escapes,  rapid  flights,  and  the  ingenious  stratagems 
with  which  he  extricated  himself  from  imminent  danger, 
were  no  less  remembered  and  admired  than  the  exploits  in 
which  he  had  been  successful.  In  weal  or  woe,  through 
every  species  of  fatigue,  difficulty  and  danger,  Elspat  was 
his  faithful  companion.  She  enjoyed  with  him  the  fits  of 
occasional  prosperity  ;  and  when  adversity  pressed  them 
405 


406  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

hard,  her  strength  of  mind,  readiness  of  wit,  and  courageous 
endurance  of  danger  and  toil  are  said  often  to  have  stimulated 
the  exertions  of  lier  husband. 

Their  morality  was  of  the  old  Highland  caste,  faithful 
friends  and  fierce  enemies  :  the  Lowland  herds  and  harvests 
they  accounted  their  own,  whenever  they  had  the  means  of 
driving  off  the  one  or  of  seizing  upon  the  other  ;  nor  did  the 
least  scruple  on  the  right  of  property  interfere  on  such  oc= 
casions.     Hamisli  Mhor  argued  like  the  old  Cretan  warrior  i 

My  sword,  my  spear,  my  shaggy  shield, 

They  make  me  lord  of  all  below  ; 
For  he  who  dreads  the  lance  to  wield 

Before  my  shaggy  shield  must  bow  ; 
His  lands,  his  vineyards,  must  resign, 
And  all  that  cowards  have  is  mine. 

But  those  days  of  perilous,  though  frequently  successful, 
depredation  oegan  to  be  abridged  after  the  failure  of  the  ex- 
pedition of  Prince  Charles  Edward.  MacTavish  Mhor  had 
not  sat  still  on  that  occasion,  and  he  was  outlawed,  both  as 
a  traitor  to  the  state  and  as  a  robber  and  cateran.  Garrisons 
were  now  settled  in  many  places  where  a  redcoat  had  never 
before  been  seen,  and  tlie  Saxon  war-drum  resounded  among 
the  most  hidden  recesses  of  the  Highland  mountains.  The 
fate  of  MacTavish  became  every  day  more  inevitable  ;  and  it 
was  the  more  difficult  for  him  to  make  his  exertions  for  de- 
fense or  escape,  that  Elspat,  amid  his  evil  days,  had  increased 
his  family  with  an  infant  child,  which  was  a  considerable 
encumbrance  upon  the  necessary  rapidity  of  their  motions. 

At  length  the  fatal  day  arrived.  In  a  strong  pass  on  the 
skirts  of  Ben  Cruachan  the  celebrated  MacTavish  Mhor  was 
surprised  by  a  detachment  of  the  "sidier  roy.*'  His  wife 
assisted  him  heroically,  charging  his  piece  from  time  to  time  ; 
and  as  they  were  in  possession  of  a  post  that  was  nearly  un 
assailable,  he  might  have  perhaps  escaped  if  his  ammunition 
had  lasted.  But  at  length  his  balls  were  expended,  although 
it  was  not  until  he  had  fired  off  most  of  the  silver  buttons 
from  his  waistcoat,  and  the  soldiers,  no  longer  deterred  by  *^'ii 
fear  of  the  unerring  marksman,  who  had  slain  three  and! 
wounded  more  of  their  number,  approached  his  stronghold.) 
and,  unable  to  take  him  alive,  slew  him,  after  a  most  des 
perate  resistance. 

All  this  Elspat  witnessed  and  survived,  for  she  had,  in  thfj  )\\ 
child  which  relied  on  her  for  support,  a  motive  for  strengtl 
and  exertion.     In  what  manner  she  maintained  herself  i 


la 


i 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  407 

is  not  easy  to  say.  Her  only  ostensible  moans  of  support 
were  a  flock  of  three  or  four  goats,  which  she  fed  wherever 
she  pleased  on  the  mountain  pastures,  no  one  challenging 
the  intrusion.  In  the  general  distress  of  the  country,  her 
ancient  acquaintances  had  little  to  bestow  ;  but  what  they 
could  part  with  from  their  own  necessities  they  willingly 
devoted  to  the  relief  of  others.  From  Lqwlanders  she  some- 
times demanded  tribute,  rather  than  requested  alms.  She 
had  not  forgotten  slie  was  the  widow  of  MacTavish  Mhor, 
or  that  the  child  who  trotted  by  her  knee  might,  such  were 
her  imaginations,  emulate  one  day  the  fame  of  his  father, 
and  command  the  same  influence  which  he  had  once  ex'^rted 
without  control.  She  associated  so  little  with  others,  went 
so  seldom  and  so  unwillingly  from  the  wildest  recesses  of 
the  mountains,  where  she  usually  dwelt  with  lier  goa^s,  that 
she  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  great  change  which  had 
taken  place  in  the  country  around  her,  the  substitution  of 
j  civil  order  for  military  violence,  and  the  strength  gained  by 
ithe  law  and  its  adherents  over  those  who  were  called  in 
Gaelic  song  *'tlie  stormy  sons  of  the  sword."  Her  own 
■diminished  consequence  and  straitened  circumstances  she 
indeed  felt,  but  for  this  the  death  of  MacTavish  Mhor  was, 
in  her  apprehension,  a  sufficing  reason  ;  and  she  doubted 
iQot  that  she  should  rise  to  her  former  state  of  importance 
I  when  Hamish  Bean  (or  Fair-haired  James)  should  be  able 
}to  wield  the  arms  of  his  father.  If,  then,  Elspat  was  re- 
pelled rudely  when  she  demanded  anything  necessary  for  her 
wants,  or  the  accommodation  of  her  "little  flock,  by  a  churl- 
ish farmer,  her  threats  of  vengeance,  obscurely  expressed, 
yet  terrible  in  their  tenor,  used  frequently  to  extort,  through 
fear  of  her  maledictions,  the  relief  which  was  denied  to  her 
iuecessities  ;  and  the  trembling  goodwife  who  gave  meal  or 
money  to  the  widow  of  MacTavish  Mhor  wished  in  her  heart 
that  the  stern  old  carline  had  been  burned  on  the  day  her 
husband  had  his  due. 

Years  thus  ran  on,  and  Hamish  Bean  grew  up,  not  indeed 
to  be  of  his  father's  size  or  strength,  but  to  become  an  ac- 
tive, high-spirited,  fair-haired  youth,  with  a  ruddy  cheek, 
an  eye  like  an  eagle,  and  all  the  agility,  if  not  all  the 
strength,  of  his  formidable  father,  upon  whose  history  and 
achievements  his  mother  dwelt,  in  order  to  form  her  son's 
mind  to  a  similar  course  of  adventures.  But  the  young  see 
the  present  state  of  this  changeful  world  more  keenly  than 
the  old.  Much  attached  to  his  mother,  and  disposed  to  do 
all  in  his  power  ior  her  support^  Hamish  yet  perceived. 


408  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

when  lie  mixed  with  the  world,  that  the  trade  of  the  cateran 
was  now  alike  dangerous  and  discreditable,  and  that,  if  he 
were  to  emulate  his  fathers  prowess,  it  must  be  in  some 
other  line  of  warfare,  more  consonant  to  the  opinions  of  the 
present  day. 

As  the  faculties  of  mind  and  body  began  to  expand,  he 
became  more  sensible  of  the  precarious  nature  of  his  situa- 
tion, of  the  erroneous  views  of  his  mother,  and  her  ignor^ 
ance  respecting  the  clianges  of  tlie  society  with  which  she 
mingled  so  little.  In  visiting  friends  and  neighbors,  he  be- 
came aware  of  the  extremely  reduced  scale  to  which  his 
parent  was  limited,  and  learned  that  she  possessed  little  or 
nothing  more  than  the  absolute  necessaries  of  life,  and  that 
these  were  sometimes  on  the  point  of  failing.  At  times  his 
snccess  in  fishing  and  the  chase  was  able  to  add  something 
to  her  subsistence  ;  but  he  saw  no  regular  means  of  con- 
tributing to  her  support,  unless  by  stooping  to  servile  labor, 
which,  if  he  himself  could  have  endured  it,  would,  he  knew% 
have  been  like  a  death's-wound  to  the  pride  of  his  mother. 

Elspat,  meanwhile,  saw  with  surprise  that  Hamish  Bean, 
although  now  tall  and  fit  for  the  field,  showed  no  disposi- 
tion to  enter  on  his  father's  scene  of  action.  There  was 
something  of  the  mother  at  her  heart,  which  prevented  hei 
from  urging  him  in  plain  terms  to  take  the  field 
cateran  ;  for  the  fear  occurred  of  the  perils  into  which  tht 
trade  must  conduct  him,  and  when  she  would  have  spoker 
to  him  on  the  subject,  it  seemed  to  her  heated  imaginatior 
as  if  the  ghost  of  her  husband  arose  between  them  in  hi 
bloody  tartans,  and,  hiying  his  finger  on  his  lips,  appeared 
to  prohibit  the  topic.  Yet  she  wondered  at  what  seeme< 
his  want  of  spirit,  sighed  as  she  saw  him  from  day  to  da;| 
lounging  about  in  the  long-skirted  Lowland  coat,  which  thf 
legislature  had  imposed  upon  the  Gael  instead  of  their  ow: 
romantic  garb,  and  thonght  how  much  nearer  he  would  hav 
resembled  her  husband  had  he  been  clad  in  the  belted  plai 
and  short  hose,  with  his  polished  arms  gleaming  at  his  side. 

Besides  these  subjects  for  anxiety,  Elspat  had  others  arii 
ing  from  the  engrossing  impetuosity  of  her  temper.  H« 
love  of  MacTavish  Mhor  had  been  qualified  by  respect,  a; 
sometimes  even  by  fear,  for  the  cateran  was  not  the  sped 
of  man  who  submits  to  female  government ;  but  over 
son  she  had  exerted,  at  first  during  childhood,  and  afte 
wards  in  early  youth,  an  imperious  authority,  which  gas 
her  maternal  love  a  character  of  jealousy.  She  could  ni 
bear  when  Hamish,  with  advancing  life,  made  repeated  stei 


anf 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  409 

towards  independence,  absented  himself  from  her  cottage  at 
such  season,  and  for  such  length  of  time,  as  he  chose,  and 
seemed  to  consider,  although  maintaining  towards  her  every 
possible  degree  of  respect  and  kindness,  that  the  control  and 
responsibility  of  his  actions  rested  on  himself  alone.  This 
would  have  been  of  little  consequence  could  she  have  con- 
cealed her  feelings  within  her  own  bosom;  but  the  ardor 
and  impatience  of  her  passions  made  her  frequently  show 
her  son  that  she  conceived  herself  neglected  and  ill-used. 
When  he  was  absent  for  any  length  of  time  from  her  cot- 
tage, without  giving  intimation  of  his  purpose,  her  resent- 
ment on  his  return  used  to  be  so  unreasonable,  that  it  nat- 
urally suggested  to  a  young  man  fond  of  independence,  and 
desirous  to  amend  his  situation  in  the  world,  to  leave  her, 
even  for  the  very  purpose  of  enabling  him  to  provide  for  the 
parent  whose  egotistical  demands  on  his  filial  attention  tended 
to  confine  him  to  a  desert,  in  which  both  were  starving  in 
hopeless  and  helpless  indigence. 

Upon  one  occasion,  the  son  having  been  guilty  of  some  in- 
dependent excursion,  by  which  the  mother  felt  herself  af- 
fronted and  disobliged,  she  had  been  more  than  usually  violent 
on  his  return,  and  awakened  in  Hamish  a  sense  of  displeasure, 
which  clouded  his  brow  and  cheek.  At  length,  as  she  per' 
sevreed  in  her  unreasonable  resentment,  his  patience  became 
exhausted,  and,  taking  his  gun  from  the  chimney-corner, 
and  muttering  to  himself  the  reply  which  his  respect  for  his 
mother  prevented  him  from  speaking  aloud,  he  was  about  to 
leave  the  hut  which  he  had  but  barely  entered. 

"  Hamish,"  said  his  mother,  "  are  you  again  about  to  leave 
me  ?" 

But  Hamish  only  replied  by  looking  at  and  rubbing  the 
lock  of  his  gun. 

"  Ay,  rub  the  lock  of  your  gun,"  said  his  parent,  bitterly  ; 
"  I  am  glad  you  have  courage  enough  to  fire  it,  though  it  be 
but  at  a  roe-deer." 

Hamish  started  at  this  undeserved  taunt,  and  cast  a  look 
of  auger  at  her  in  reply. 

She  saw  that  she  had  found  the  means  of  giving  him  pain. 
"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  look  fierce  as  you  will  at  an  old  woman, 
and  your  mother  ;  it  would  be  long  ere  you  bent  your  brow 
on  the  angry  countenance  of  a  bearded  man." 

"  Be  silent,  mother,  or  speak  of  what  you  understand," 
said  Hamish,  much  irritated,  "and  that  is  of  the  distaff  and 
the  spindle." 

"  And  was  it  of  spindle  and  distaff  that  I  was  thinking 


4iu  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

when  I  bore  you  away  on  my  back,  through  the  fire  of  six  of 
the  Saxon  soldiers,  and  you  a  wailing  child  ?  I  tell  you, 
Hamish,  I  know  a  hundredfold  more  of  swords  and  guns 
than  ever  you  will  ;  and  you  will  never  learn  so  much  of  no- 
ble war  by  yourself  as  you  have  seen  when  you  were  wrapped 
up  in  my  plaid/' 

"  You  are  determined  at  least  to  allow  me  no  peace  at 
home,  motlier ;  but  this  shall  have  an  end,"  said  Hamish, 
as,  resuming  his  purpose  of  leaving  the  hut,  he  rose  and  went 
towards  the  door. 

'"  Stay,  I  command  you,"  said  his  mother — "  stay  I  or  may 
the  gun  you  carry  be  "the  means  of  your  ruin — may  the  road 
you  are  going  be  the  track  of  your  funeral  1 " 

"  What  makes  you  use  such  words,  mother  ?  "  said  the 
young  man,  turning  a  little  back  ;  "  they  are  not  good,  and 
good  cannot  come  of  them.  Farewell  just  now,  we  are  too 
angry  to  speak  together — farewell  ;  it  will  be  long  ere  you 
see  me  again."  And  he  departed,  his  mother,  in  the  nrst 
burst  of  her  impatience,  showering  after  him  her  maledic- 
tions, and  in  the  next  invoking  them  on  her  own  head,  so 
that  they  might  spare  her  son's.  She  passed  that  day  and 
the  next  in  all  the  vehemence  of  impotent  and  yet  unre- 
strained passion,  now  entreating  Heaven,  and  such  powers  as 
were  familiar  to  her  by  rude  tradition,  to  restore  her  dear 
son,  "  the  calf  of  her  heart  "  ;  now  in  impatient  resentment, 
meditating  with  what  bitter  terms  she  should  rebuke  his 
filial  disobedience  upon  his  return  ;  and  now  studying  the  I  *)» 
most  tender  language  to  attach  him  to  the  cottage,  which,  ■  Hf' 
when  her  boy  was  present,  she  would  not,  in  the  rapture  of 
her  affection,  have  exchanged  for  the  apartments  of  Tay- 
mouth  Castle. 

Two  days  passed,  during  which,  neglecting  even  the  slen- 
der means  of  supporting  nature  which  her  situation  afforded, 
nothing  but  the  strength  of  a  frame  accustomed  to  hard- 
ships and  privations  of  every  kind  could  have  kept  her  in  exis- 
tence, notwithstanding  the  anguish  of  her  mind  prevented 
her  being  sensible  of  her  personal  weakness.  Her  dwelling, 
at  this  period,  was  the  same  cottage  near  which  I  had  found 
her,  but  then  more  habitable  by  the  exertions  of  Hamish, ■ 
by  whom  it  had  been  in  a  great  measure  built  and  repaired,  j 

It  was  on  the  third  day  after  her  son  had  disappeared,  aa.| 
she  sat  at  the  door  rocking  herself,  after  the  fashion  of  heri 
countrywomen  when  in  distress  or  in  pain,  that  the  thenj 
unwonted  circumstance  occurred  of  a  passenger  being  seea; 
on  the  highroad  above  the  cottage.     She  cast  but  one  glanc© 


it 
% 


THE  HIGHLA^Hb  WIDOW  411 

at  him  ;  he  was  on  horseback,  so  that  it  could  not  be 
JIamish,  and  Elspat  cared  not  enough  for  any  other  being 
on  earth  to  make  her  turn  her  eyes  towards  him  a  second 
time. 

The  stranger,  however,  paused  opj)osite  to  her  cottage, 
and  dismounting  from  his  pony,  led  it  down  the  steep  and 
broken  path  which  conducted  to  her  door. 

"  God  bless  you,  Elspat  MacTavish  I"  She  looked  at  the 
man,  as  he  addressed  her  in  her  native  language,  with  the 
displeased  air  of  one  whose  reverie  is  interrupted  ;  but  the 
traveler  went  on  to  say,  "  I  bring  you  tidings  of  your  son 
Hamisli."  At  once,  from  being  the  most  uninteresting 
object,  in  respect  to  Elspat,  that  could  exist,  the  form  of 
the  stranger  became  awful  in  her  eyes,  as  that  of  a  messenger 
descended  from  Heaven,  expressly  to  pronounce  upon  her 
death  or  life.  She  started  from  her  seat,  and  wdth  hands 
convulsively  clasped  together,  and  held  up  to  Heaven,  eyes 
fixed  on  the  stranger's  countenance,  and  person  stooping 
forward  to  him,  she  looked  those  inquiries  which  her  falter- 
ing tongue  could  not  articulate.  "  Your  son  sends  you  his 
dutiful  remembrance  and  this,"  said  the  messenger,  putting 
into  Elspat's  hands  a  small  purse  containing  four  or  five 
dollars. 

"  He  is  gone — he  is  gone  !"  exclaimed  Elspat  :  "he  has 
sold  himself  to  be  the  servant  of  the  Saxons,  and  I  shall 
never  more  behold  him  !  Tell  me.  Miles  MacPhadraick,  for 
now  I  know  you,  is  it  the  price  of  the  son's  blood  that  you 
have  put  into  the  mother's  hand  ?" 

"  Now  God  forbid  ! "  answered  MacPhadraick,  who  was  a 
tacksman,  and  had  possession  of  a  considerable  tract  of 
ground  under  his  chief,  a  proprietor  who  lived  about  twenty 
miles  off — "'  God  forbid  I  should  do  wrong,  or  say  wrong,  to 
you,  or  to  the  son  of  MacTavish  Mhor  !  I  swear  to  you  by 
the  hand  of  my  chief  that  your  son  is  well,  and  will  soon  see 
you;  and  the  rest  he  will  tell  you  himself."  So  saying, 
MacPhadraick  hastened  back  up  the  pathway,  gained  the 
the  road,  mounted  his  pony,  and  rode  upon  his  way. 


CHAPTER  in 

Elspat  MacTavish  remained  gazing  on  the  money,  as  if 
the  impress  of  the  coin  could  have  conveyed  information  how 
it  was  procured. 

"  I  love  not  tliis  MacPhadraick/'  she  said  to  herself  ;  ''it 
was  his  race  of  whom  the  bard  hath  spoken,  saying,  '  Fear 
them  not  when  their  words  are  loud  as  the  winter's  wind, 
but  fear  them  when  they  fall  on  you  like  the  sound  of  the 
thrush's  song/  And  yet  this  riddle  can  be  read  but  one 
way  :  my  son  hath  taken  the  sword,  to  win  that  with  strength 
like  a  man  which  churls  would  keep  him  from  with  the  words 
that  frighten  children/  This  idea,  wlien  once  it  occurred 
to  her,  seemed  the  more  reasonable,  that  MacPhadraick,  as 
she  well  knew,  himself  a  cautious  man,  had  so  far  encouraged 
her  husband's  practises  as  occasionally  to  buy  cattle  of  Mac- 
Tavish, although  he  must  have  well  known  how  they  were 
come  by,  taking  care,  however,  that  the  transaction  was  so 
made  as  to  be  accompanied  with  great  profit  and  absolute 
safety.  Who  so  likely  as  MacPhadraick  to  indicate  to 
young  cateran  the  glen  in  which  he  could  commence  his 
perilous  trade  with  most  prospect  of  success,  who  so  likely 
to  convert  his  booty  into  money  ?  The  feelings  which  an- 
other might  have  experienced  on  believing  that  an  only  son 
had  rushed  forward  on  the  same  path  in  which  his  father 
had  perislied  were  scarce  known  to  the  Highland  mothers  of 
that  day.  She  thought  of  the  death  of  MacTavish  Mhor 
that  of  a  hero  who  had  fallen  in  his  proper  trade  of  war,  and; 
who  had  not  fallen  unavenged.  She  feared  less  for  her  son's 
life  than  for  his  dishonor.  She  dreaded  on  his  account  the 
subjection  of  strangers,  and  the  death-sleep  of  the  soul  which 
is  brought  on  by  what  she  regarded  as  slavery. 

The  moral  principle  which  so  naturally  and  so  justly  occurs 
to  the  mind  of  those  who  have  been  educated  under  a  settled 
government  of  laws,  that  protect  the  property  of  the  weak 
against  the  incursions  of  the  strong,  was  to  poor  Elspat  a 
book  sealed  and  a  fountain  closed.  She  had  been  taught  tC 
consider  those  whom  they  called  Saxons  as  a  race  with  whon:' 
the  Gael  were  constantly  at  war,  and  she  regarded  everj 
settlement  of  theirs  within  the  reach  of  Highland  incursior 
412 


I 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  41H 

as  affording  a  legitimate  object  of  attack  and  plunder.  Her 
feelings  on  this  point  liad  been  strengthened  and  confirmed, 
not  only  by  the  desire  of  revenge  for  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band, but  by  the  sense  of  general  indignation  entertained, 
not  unjustly,  through  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  on  account 
of  the  barbarous  and  violent  conduct  of  the  victors  after  the 
battle  of  Culloden.  Other  Highland  clans,  too,  she  regarded 
as  the  fair  objects  of  plunder  when  that  was  possible,  upon 
the  score  of  ancient  enmities  and  deadly  feuds. 

The  prudence  that  might  have  weighed  the  slender  means 
which  the  times  afforded  for  resisting  the  efforts  of  a  ccm- 
bined  government,  which  had,  in  its  less  compact  and  es- 
tablished authority,  been  unable  to  put  down  the  ravages  of 
such  lawless  caterans  as  MacTavish  Mhor,  was  unknown  to 
a  solitary  woman,  whose  ideas  still  dwelt  upon  her  own  early 
times.  She  imagined  that  her  son  had  only  to  proclaim 
himself  his  father's  successor  in  adventure  and  enterprise, 
and  that  a  force  of  men  as  gallant  as  those  who  had  followed 
his  father's  banner  would  crowd  around  to  support  it  when 
again  displayed.  To  her,  Hamish  was  the  eagle  who  had 
only  to  soar  aloft  and  resume  his  native  place  in  the  skies, 
without  her  being  able  to  comprehend  how  many  additional 
eyes  would  have  watched  his  flight,  how  many  additional 
bullets  would  have  been  directed  at  his  bosom.  To  be  brief, 
Elspat  was  one  who  viewed  the  present  state  of  society  with 
the  same  feelings  with  which  she  regarded  the  times  that 
had  passed  away.  She  had  been  indigent,  neglected,  op- 
pressed, since  the  day  that  her  husband  had  no  longer  been 
feared  and  powerful,  and  she  thought  that  the  term  of  her 
ascendance  would  return  when  her  son  had  determined  to 
play  the  part  of  his  father.  If  she  permitted  her  eye  to 
glance  farther  into  futurity,  it  was  but  to  anticipate  that  she 
must  be  for  many  a  day  cold  in  the  grave,  with  the  coronach 
of  her  tribe  cried  duly  over  her,  before  her  fair-haired 
Hamish  could,  according  to  her  calculation,  die  with  his 
hand  on  the  basket-hilt  of  the  red  claymore.  His  father's 
hair  was  gray  ere,  after  a  hundred  dangers,  he  had  fallen 
with  his  arms  in  his  hands.  That  she  should  have  seen  and 
survived  the  sight  was  a  natural  consequence  of  the  manners 
of  that  age.  And  better  it  was,  such  was  her  proud  thought, 
that  she  had  seen  him  so  die  than  to  have  witnessed  his 
departure  from  life  in  a  smoky  hovel.  On  a  bed  of  rotten 
straw,  like  an  over-worn  hound,  or  a  bullock  which  died  of 
disease.  But  the  hour  of  her  young — her  brave  Hamish  was 
yet  far  distant.     He  must  succeed — he  must  conquer,  like 


iU  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

his  father.  And  when  he  fell  at  length,  for  she  anticipated 
for  him  no  bloodless  death,  Elspat  would  ere  then  have  lain 
long  in  the  grave,  and  could  neither  see  his  death-struggle 
nor  mourn  over  his  grave-sod. 

AVith  such  wild  notions  working  in  her  brain,  the  spirit  ot 
Elspat  rose  to  its  usual  pitch,  or  rather  to  one  which  seemed 
higher.  In  the  emphatic  language  of  Scripture,  which  in 
that  idiom  does  not  greatly  differ  from  her  own,  she  arose, 
she  washed  and  changed  her  apparel,  and  ate  bread,  and  was 
refreshed. 

She  longed  eagerly  for  the  return  of  her  son,  but  she  now 
longed  not  with  the  bitter  anxiety  of  doubt  and  apprehen- 
sion. She  said  to  herself,  that  much  must  be  done  ere  he 
could  in  these  times  arise  to  be  an  eminent  and  dreaded 
leader.  Yet  when  she  saw  him  again,  she  almost  expected 
him  at  the  head  of  a  daring  band,  with  jDipes  playing,  and 
banners  flying,  the  noble  tartans  fluttering  free  in  the  wind, 
in  despite  of  the  laws  which  had  suppressed,  under  severe 
penalties,  tlie  use  of  the  national  garb,  and  all  the  appurte- 
nances of  Highland  chivalry.  For  all  this,  her  eager  imagi- 
nation was  content  only  to  allow  the  interval  of  some  days. 

From  the  moment  this  opinion  had  taken  deep  and  seri- 
ous possession  of  her  mind,  her  thoughts  were  bent  upon 
receiving  her  son  at  the  head  of  his  adherents  in  the  manner 
in  which  she  used  to  adorn  her  hut  for  the  return  of  his 
father. 

The  substantial  means  of  subsistence  she  had  not  the 
power  of  providing,  nor  did  she  consider  that  of  importance. 
The  successful  caterans  would  bring  with  them  herds  and 
flocks.  But  the  interior  of  her  hut  was  arranged  for  their 
reception  ;  the  usquebaugh  was  brewed  or  distilled  in  a  larger 
quantity  than  it  could  have  been  supposed  one  lone  woman 
could  have  made  ready.  Her  hut  was  put  into  such  order! 
as  might,  in  some  degree,  give  it  the  appearance  of  a  day 
of  rejoicing.  It  was  swept  and  decorated  with  boughs  of 
various  kinds,  like  the  house  of  a  Jewess,  upon  what  is 
termed  the  Feast  of  the  Tabernacles.  The  produce  of  the 
milk  of  her  little  flock  was  prepared  in  as  great  variety  of  | 
forms  as  her  skill  admitted,  to  entertain  her  son  and  his  as- 
sociates whom  she  expected  to  receive  along  with  him. 

But  the  principal  decoration,  which  she  sought  with  the: 
greatest  toil,  was  the  cloudberry,  a  scarlet  fruit,  which  is  only: 
found  on  very  high  hills,  and  there  only  in  small  quantities. 
Her  husband,  or  perhaps  one  of  his  forefathers,  had  chosenj 
this  as  the  emblem  of  his  family,  because  it  seemed  at  once 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  415 

to  imply  by  its  scarcity  the  smallness  of  their  clan,  and  by 
the  places  in  which  it  was  found  the  ambitious  height  of 
their  pretensions. 

For  the  time  that  these  simple  preparations  of  welcome 
endured,  Elspat  was  in  a  state  of  troubled  happiness.  In 
fact,  her  only  anxiety  was  that  she  might  be  able  to  complete 
all  that  she  could  do  to  welcome  Hamish  and  the  friends 
who  she  supposed  must  have  attached  themselves  to  his  band 
before  they  should  arrive,  and  find  her  unprovided  for  their 
reception. 

But  when  such  efforts  as  she  could  make  had  been  accom- 
plished, she  once  more  had  nothing  left  to  engage  her  save 
the  trifling  care  of  her  goats  ;  and  when  these  had  been  at- 
tended to,  she  had  only  to  review  her  little  preparations, 
renew  such  as  were  of  a  transitory  nature,  replace  decayed 
branches  and  fading  boughs,  and  then  to  sit  down  at  her 
cottage  door  and  watch  the  road,  as  it  ascended  on  the  one 
side  from  the  banks  of  the  Awe,  and  on  the  other  wound 
round  the  heights  of  the  mountain,  with  such  a  degree  of 
accommodation  to  hill  and  level,  as  the  plan  of  the  military 
engineer  permitted.  While  so  occupied,  her  imagination, 
anticipating  the  future  from  recollections  of  the  past,  formed 
out  of  the  morning  mist  or  the  evening  cloud  the  wild  forms 
of  an  advancing  band,  which  were  then  called  "  sidier  dhu" 
(dark  soldiers),  dressed  in  their  native  tartan,  and  so  named 
to  distinguish  them  from  the  scarlet  ranks  of  the  British 
army.  In  this  occupation  she  spent  many  hours  of  each 
morning  and  evening. 


CHAPTER  IV 

It  was  in  vain  that  Elspat's  eyes  surveyed  the  distant  path, 
by  the  earliest  liglit  of  the  dawn,  and  the  latest  glimmer  of 
the  twilight.  No  rising  dust  awakened  the  expectation  of 
nodding  plumes  or  flashing  arms  ;  the  solitary  traveler 
trudged  listlessly  along  in  his  brown  Lowland  greatcoat,  his 
tartaiis  dyed  black  or  purple,  to  comply  with  or  to  evade  the 
law  which  prohibited  their  being  worn  in  their  variegated 
hues.  The  spirit  of  the  Gael,  sunk  and  broken  by  the 
severe  though  peehaps  necessary  laws  that  proscribed  the 
dress  and  arms  which  he  considered  as  his  birthright,  was 
intimated  by  his  drooping  head  aud  dejected  appearance. 
Not  in  such  depressed  wanderers  did  Elspat  recognize  the 
light  and  free  step  of  her  son,  now,  as  she  concluded,  regen- 
erated from  every  sign  of  Saxon  thraldom.  Night  by  night, 
as  darkness  came,  she  removed  from  her  unclosed  door  to 
throw  herself  on  her  restless  pallet,  not  to  sleep,  but  to 
watch.  "  The  brave  and  the  terrible,"  she  said,  "  walk  byf 
night :  their  steps  are  heard  in  darkness,  when  all  is  silent 
save  the  whirlwind  and  the  cataract  ;  the  timid  deer  comes 
only  forth  when  the  sun  is  upon  the  mountain's  peak,  butb 
the  bold  wolf  walks  in  the  red  light  of  the  harvest  moon."! 
She  reasoned  in  vain  :  her  son's  expected  summons  did  not' 
call  her  from  the  lowly  couch  whore  she  lay  dreaming  of  his 
approach.     Hamish  came  not, 

"  Hope  deferred,"  saith  the  royal  sage,  "  maketh  the  heart 
sick;'*  and,  strong  as  was  Elspat's  constitution,  she  began  tc 
experience  that  it  was  unequal  to  the  toils  to  which  her 
anxious  and  immoderate  affection  subjected  her,  when  early 
one  morning  the  appearance  of  a  traveler  on  the  lonely 
mountain-road  revived  hopes  which  had  begun  to  sink  intc 
listless  despair.  There  was  no  sign  of  Saxon  subjugatior 
about  the  stranger.  At  a  distance  she  could  see  the  fluttei 
of  the  belted  plaid,  that  drooped  in  graceful  folds  behint: 
him,  and  the  plume  that,  placed  in  the  bonnet,  showed  ranl<j 
and  gentle  birth.  He  carried  a  gun  over  his  shoulder,  th4 
claymore  was  swinging  by  his  side,  with  its  usual  appendages^ 
the  dirk,  the  pistol  and  the  spoi'van  molloch.  Ere  yet  he; 
eye  had  scanned  all  these  particulars,  the  light  step  of  th( 
416 


THE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  417 

traveler  was  hastened,  his  arm  was  waved  in  token  of  recog- 
nition ;  a  moment  more  and  Elspat  held  in  her  arms  her 
darling  son,  dressed  in  the  garb  of  his  ancestors,  and  looking, 
in  her  maternal  eyes,  the  fairest  among  ten  thousand  ! 

The  first  outpouring  of  affection  it  would  be  impossible  to 
describe.  Blessings  mingled  with  the  most  endearing 
epithets  which  her  energetic  language  affords,  in  striving  to 
express  the  wild  rapture  of  Elspat's  joy.  Her  board  was 
heaped  hastily  with  all  she  had  to  offer  ;  and  the  mother 
watched  the  young  soldier,  as  he  partook  of  the  refreshment, 
with  feelings  how  similar  to,  yet  how  different  from,  those 
with  which  she  had  seen  him  draw  his  first  sustenance  from 
her  bosom  ! 

When  the  tumult  of  joy  was  appeased,  Elspat  became 
anxious  to  know  her  son's  adventures  since  they  parted,  and 
could  not  help  greatly  censuring  his  rashness  for  traversing 
the  hills  in  the  Highland  dress  in  the  broad  sunshine,  when 
the  penalty  was  so  heavy,  and  so  many  red  soldiers  were 
abroad  in  the  country. 

"  Fear  not  for  me,  mother,"  said  Hamish,  in  a  tone  de- 
signed to  relieve  her  anxiety,  and  yet  somewhat  embarrassed  ; 
"  I  may  wear  the  breacan  at  the  gate  of  Fort- Augustus,  if  I 
like  it." 

"  Oh,  be  not  too  daring,  my  beloved  Hamish,  though  it 
be  the  fault  which  best  becomes  thy  father's  son — yet  be  not 
too  daring  !  Alas  !  they  fight  not  now  as  in  former  days, 
with  fair  weapons  and  on  equal  terms,  but  take  odds  of 
numbers  and  of  arms,  so  that  the  feeble  and  the  strong  are 
alike  leveled  by  the  shot  of  a  boy.  And  do  not  think  me 
unworthy  to  be  called  your  father's  widow,  and  your  mother, 
because  1  speak  thus  ;  for  God  knoweth  that,  man  to  man, 
I  would  peril  thee  against  the  best  in  Breadalbane  and 
broad  Lorn  besides." 

"I  assure  you,  my  dearest  mother,"  replied  Hamish, 
"  that  I  am  in  no  danger.  But  have  you  seen  MacPhadraick, 
mother,  and  what  has  he  said  to  you  on  my  account  ?  " 

"  Silver  he  left  me  in  plenty,  Hamish  ;  but  the  best  of  his 
comfort  was,  that  you  were  well,  and  would  see  me  soon. 
But  beware  of  MacPhadraick,  my  son  ;  for  when  he  called 
himself  the  friend  of  your  father,  he  better  loved  the  most 
worthless  stirk  in  his  herd  than  he  did  the  life-blood  of  Mac- 
Tavish  Mhor.  Use  his  services,  therefore,  and  pay  him  for 
them  ;  for  it  is  thus  we  should  deal  with  the  unworthy. 
But  take  my  counsel,  and  trust  him  not." 

Hamish  could  not  suppre^g  a  sigh,  which  seemed  to  Elspat 


418  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  intimate  that  the  caution  came  too  late.  '^What  have 
you  clone  with  him  ? "  she  continued,  eager  and  alarmed. 
''1  had  money  of  him,  and  he  gives  not  that  without  value  : 
he  is  none  of  those  who  exchange  barley  for  chaff.  Oh,  if 
you  repent  you  of  your  bargain,  and  if  it  be  one  which  you 
may  break  off  without  disgrace  to  your  truth  or  your 
manhood,  take  back  his  silver,  and  trust  not  to  his  fair 
words.'' 

"  It  may  not  be,  mother,"  said  Hamish  ;  "I  do  not  repent 
my  engagement,  unless  that  it  must  make  me  leave  you 
soon." 

"  Leave  me  !  how  leave  me  ?  Silly  boy,  think  you  I 
know  not  what  duty  belongs  to  the  wife  or  mother  of  a  dar- 
ing man  ?  Thou  art  but  a  boy  yet  ;  and  when  thy  father 
had  been  the  dread  of  the  country  for  twenty  years,  he  did 
not  despise  my  company  and  assistance,  but  often  said  my 
help  was  worth  that  of  two  strong  gillies." 

"  It  is  not  on  that  score,  mother  ;  but  since  I  must  leave 
the  country " 

"  Leave  the  country!"  replied  his  mother,  interrupting 
him  ;  ''  and  think  you  that  I  am  like  a  bush,  that  is  rooted 
to  the  soil  where  it  grows,  and  must  die  if  carried  else- 
where ?  I  have  breathed  other  winds  than  these  of  Ben 
Cruachan.  I  have  followed  your  father  to  the  wilds  of  Ross 
and  the  impenetrable  deserts  of  Y  Mac  Y  Mhor.  Tush, 
man,  my  limbs,  old  as  they  are,  will  bear  me  as  far  as  your 
young  feet  can  trace  the  way." 

''Alas,  mother,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  faltering 
accent  ;  ''but  to  cross  the  sea " 

"  The  sea  !  Who  am  I  that  I  should  fear  the  sea  ?  Have 
I  never  been  in  a  birling  in  my  life — never  known  the  Sound 
of  Mull,  the  Isles  of  Treshormish,  and  the  rough  rocks  of 
Harris  ?" 

"  Alas,  mother,  I  go  far,  far  from  all  of  these.  I  am 
enlisted  in  one  of  the  new  regiments,  and  we  go  against  the 
French  in  America." 

"  Enlisted  !  "  uttered  the  astonished  mother — "  against 
mt/  will — without  my  consent  ?  You  could  not — you  would 
not " — then  rising  up,  and  assuming  a  posture  of  almost 
imperial  command,  "Hamish,  you  dared  not !" 

"Despair,  mother,  dares  everything,"  answered  Hamish, 
in  a  tone  of  melancholy  resolution.  "  What  should  I  do 
here,  where  I  can  scarce  get  bread  for  myself  and  you, 
and  when  the  times  are  growing  daily  worse  ?  Would 
you  but  sit  down  and  listen,  I  would  convince  you  I  har? 
acted  for  tJie  best." 


THE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  419 

Witli  a  bitter  smile  Elspat  sat  down,  and  the  same  severe, 
ironical  expression  was  on  her  features  as,  with  her  lips 
firmly  closed,  she  listened  to  his  vindication. 

Hamish  went  on,  without  being  disconcerted  by  her  ex- 
pected displeasure.  "  When  I  left  you,  dearest  mother,  it 
was  to  go  to  MacPhadraick's  house  ;  for,  although  I  knew 
he  is  crafty  and  worldly,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Sassenach, 
yet  he  is  wise,  and  I  thought  how  he  would  teach  me,  as  it 
would  cost  him  nothing,  in  which  way  I  could  mend  our 
estate  in  the  world." 

"  Our  estate  in  the  world  \"  said  Elspat,  losing  patience 
at  the  word  ;  "  and  went  you  to  a  base  fellow  with  a  soul 
no  better  than  that  of  a  cowherd  to  ask  counsel  about  your 
conduct  ?  Your  father  asked  none,  save  of  his  courage  and 
his  sword." 

"Dearest  mother,"  answered  Hamish,  "how  shall  I  con- 
vince you  that  you  live  in  this  land  of  our  fathers  as  if  our 
fathers  were  yet  living  ?  You  walk  as  it  were  in  a  dream, 
surrounded  by  the  phantoms  of  those  who  have  been  long 
with  the  dead.  When  my  father  lived  and  fought,  the  great 
respected  the  man  of  the  strong  right  hand,  and  the  rich 
feared  him.  He  had  protection  from  MacCallan  Mhor  and 
from  Caberfae,*  and  tribute  from  meaner  men.  That  is 
ended,  and  his  son  would  only  earn  a  disgraceful  and  un- 
pitied  death  by  the  practises  which  gave  his  father  credit 
and  power  among  those  who  wear  the  breacan.  The  land 
is  conquered,  its  lights  are  quenched — Glengarry,  Lochiel, 
Perth,  Lord  Lewis,  all  the  high  chiefs,  are  dead  or  in  exile. 
We  may  mourn  for  it,  but  we  cannot  help  it.  Bonnet, 
broadsword,  and  sporran,  power,  strength,  and  wealth,  were 
all  lost  on  Drummossie  Muir.  f 

"It  is  false  !  "  said  Elspat,  fiercely  ;  "  you,  and  such-like 
dastardly  spirits,  are  quelled  by  your  own  faint  hearts,  not 
by  the  strength  of  the  enemy  :  you  are  like  the  fearful  water- 
fowl, to  whom  the  least  cloud  in  the  sky  seems  the  shadow 
of  the  eagle." 

"Mother,"  said  Hamish,  proudly,  "lay  not  faint  heart 
to  my  charge.  I  go  where  men  are  wanted  who  have  strong 
arms  and  bold  hearts  too.  I  leave  a  desert  for  a  land  where 
I  may  gather  fame." 

"  And  you  leave  your  mother  to  perish  in  want,  age,  and 
solitude,"  said  Elspat,  essaying  successively  every  means  of 

*  Caberfae — Anglice,  the  Stag's  head,  the  Celtic  designation  for 
the  arms  of  the  family  of  the  high  chief  of  Seaforth. 
t  The  battlefield  of  Culloden  {Laing) . 


i20  WAVURLEY  NOVELS 

moving  a  resolution  which  she  began  to  see  was  more  deeply 
rooted  than  she  had  at  first  thought. 

"  Not  so,  neither,"  he  answered  ;  ''  I  leave  you  to  com- 
fort and  certainty,  which  you  have  yet  never  known.  Bar- 
caldine's  son  is  made  a  leader,  and  with  him  I  have  enrolled 
myself  ;  ]\IacPhadraick  acts  for  him,  and  raises  men,  and 
finds  his  own  in  doing  it." 

"  That  is  the  truest  word  of  the  tale,  were  all  the  rest  as 
false  as  hell,"  said  the  old  woman,  bitterly. 

"  But  we  are  to  find  our  good  in  it  also,"  continued 
Hamish  ;  "  for  Barcaldine  is  to  give  you  a  shielding  in  his 
wood  of  Letterfindreight,  with  grass  for  your  goats,  and  a 
cow,  when  you  please  to  have  one,  on  the  common  ;  and  my 
own  pay,  dearest  mother,  though  I  am  far  away,  will  do 
more  than  provide  you  with  meal,  and  with  all  else  you  can 
want.  Do  not  fear  for  me.  I  enter  a  private  gentleman  ; 
but  I  will  return,  if  hard  fighting  and  regular  duty  can 
deserve  it,  an  officer,  and  with  half  a  dollar  a  day. " 

"Poor  child  I"  replied  Elspat,  in  a  tone  of  pity  mingled 
with  contempt,   "and  you  trust  MacPiiadraick  ?" 

"  I  might,  mother,"  said  Hamish,  the  dark  red  color  of 
his  race  crossing  his  forehead  and  cheeks,  "  for  MacPha- 
draick  knows  the  blood  which  flows  in  my  veins,  and  is  aware 
that,  should  he  break  trust  with  you,  he  might  count  the 
days  which  could  bring  Hamish  back  to  Breadalbane,  and 
number  those  of  his  life  within  three  suns  more.  I  would 
kill  him  at  his  own  hearth,  did  he  break  his  word  with  me 
— I  would,  by  the  great  Being  who  made  us  both  I " 

The  look  and  attitude  of  the  young  soldier  for  a  moment 
overawed  Elspat ;  she  was  unused  to  see  him  express  a  deep 
and  bitter  mood,  which  reminded  her  so  strongly  of  his 
father,  but  she  resumed  her  remonstrances  in  the  same 
taunting  manner  in  which  she  had  commenced  them. 

"  Poor  boy  !  "  she  said  ;  "  and  you  think  that  at  the  dis- 
tance of  half  the  world  your  threats  will  be  heard  or  thought 
of  !  But,  go — go — place  your  neck  under  him  of  Hanover's 
yoke.against  whom  every  true  Gael  fought  to  the  death. 
Go,  disown  the  royal  Stuart,  for  whom  your  father,  and  his 
fathers,  and  your  mother's  fathers,  have  crimsoned  many  a  I 
field  with  their  blood.     Go,  put  your  head  under  the  belt 

of  one  of  the  race  of  Dermid,  whose  children  murdered . 

Yes,"  she  added,  with  a  wild  shriek,  "  murdered  your 
mother's  fathers  in  their  peaceful  dwellings  in  Glencoe  ! 
Yes,"  she  again  exclaimed,  with  a  wilder  and  shriller  scream, 
"  I  was  then  unborn,  but  my  mother  has  told  me,  and  I 


I: 


THE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  421 

attended  to  the  voice  of  my  mother— well  I  remember  lier 
words  !  They  came  in  peace,  and  were  received  in  friend- 
ship, and  blood  and  fire  arose,  and  screams  and  murder  !  "  * 

"  Mother,"  answered  Hamish,  mournfully,  but  with  a  de- 
cided tone,  "  all  that  I  have  thought  over  ;  there  is  not  a 
drop  of  the  blood  of  Glencoe  on  the  noble  hand  of  Barcal- 
dine — with  the  unhappy  house  of  Glenlyon  the  curse  remains, 
and  on  them  God  hath  avenged  it." 

"  You  speak  like  the  Saxon  priest  already,"  replied  his 
mother  ;  '■  will  you  not  better  stay,  and  ask  a  kirk  from  Mac- 
Callan  Mlior,  that  you  may  preach  forgiveness  to  the  race  of 
Derm  id  ?  " 

"  Yesterday  was  yesterday,"  answered  Hamish,  "  and  to- 
day is  to-day.  When  the  clans  are  crushed  and  confounded 
together,  it  is  well  and  wise  that  their  hatreds  and  their  feuds 
should  not  survive  their  independence  and  their  power.  He 
that  cannot  execute  vengeance  like  a  man  should  not  harbor 
useless  enmity  like  a  craven.  Mother,  young  Barcaldine  is 
true  and  brave  ;  I  know  that  MacPhadraick  counseled  him 
that  he  should  not  let  me  take  leave  of  you,  lest  you  dissuaded 
me  from  my  purpose  ;  but  he  said,  '  Hamish  McTavish  is 
the  son  of  a  brave  man,  and  he  will  not  break  his  word.' 
Mother,  Barcaldine  leads  an  hundred  of  the  bravest  of  the 
sons  of  the  Gael  in  their  native  dress,  and  with  their  fathers' 
arms,  heart  to  heart,  shoulder  to  shoulder.  I  have  sworn 
to  go  with  him.     He  has  trusted  me,  and  I  will  trust  him." 

At  this  reply,  so  firmly  and  resolvedly  pronounced,  Elspat 
remained  like  one  thunderstruck  and  sunk  in  despair.  The 
arguments  which  she  had  considered  so  irresistibly  conclu- 
sive had  recoiled  like  a  wave  from  a  rock.  After  a  long 
pause,  she  filled  her  son's  quaigh,  and  presented  it  to  him 
with  an  air  of  dejected  deference  and  submission. 

"Drink,"  she  said,  ''to  thy  father's  roof-tree  ere  you 
leave  it  forever  ;  and  tell  me,  since  the  chains  of  anew  king, 
and  of  a  new  chief,  whom  your  fathers  knew  not  save  as 
mortal  enemies,  are  fastened  upon  the  limbs  of  your  father's 
son — tell  me  how  many  links  you  count  upon  them  ?  " 

Hamish  took  the  cup,  but  looked  at  her  as  if  uncertain  of 
her  meaning.  She  proceeded  in  a  raised  voice.  "  Tell  me, 
she  said,  "■  for  I  have  a  right  to  know,  for  how  many  days 
the  will  of  those  you  have  made  your  masters  permits  me  to 
look  upon  you  ?  In  other  words,  how  many  are  the  days  of 
my  life  ;  for,  when  you  leave  me,  the  earth  has  nought  be- 
sides worth  living  for." 

*  See  Massacre  of  Glencoe.    Note  28. 


422  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

"  Mother,"  replied  Hamish  McTavish,  "  for  six  days  1  may 
remain  with  you,  and  if  you  will  set  out  with  me  on  the  fifth,  1 
will  conduct  you  in  safety  to  your  new  dwelling.  But  if  you 
remain  here,  then  I  will  depart  on  the  seventh  by  daybreak 
then,  as  at  the  last  moment,  I  must  set  out  for  Dunbarton, 
for  if  I  appear  not  on  the  eighth  day,  I  am  subject  to  pun- 
ishment as  a  deserter,  and  am  dishonored  as  a  soldier  and 
a  gentleman." 

"Your  father's  foot,"  she  answered,  ''was  free  as  the 
wind  on  the  heatli  ;  it  were  as  vain  to  say  to  him,  '  Where 
goest  thou  ?  *  as  to  ask  that  viewless  driver  of  the  clouds, 
'  Wherefore  blowest  thou  ?  '  Tell  me  under  what  penalty 
thou  must — since  go  thou  must  and  go  thou  wilt — return  to 
thy  thraldom  ?  " 

"Call  it  not  thraldom,  mother  ;  it  is  the  service  of  an 
honorable  soldier — the  only  service  which  is  now  open  to  the 
son  of  MacTavish  Mhor." 

"  Yet  say  what  is  the  penalty  if  thou  shouldst  not  return?*' 
replied  Elspat. 

"  Military  punishment  as  a  deserter,"  answered  Hamish, 
writhing,  however,  as  his  m.other  failed  not  to  observe,  under 
some  internal  feelings,  which  she  resolved  to  probe  to  the 
uttermost. 

"And  that,"  she  said,  with  assumed  calmness,  which  her 
glancing  eye  disowned,  "  is  the  punishment  of  a  disobedient 
hound,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Ask  me  no  more,  mother,"  said  Hamish  ;  "  the  punish 
ment  is  nothing  to  one  who  will  never  deserve  it." 

"  To  me  it  is  something,"  replied  Elspat,  "since  I  know 
better  than  thou,  that,  where  there  is  power  to  inflict,  there  is 
often  the  will  to  do  so  Avithout  cause.  I  would  pray  for  theej 
Hamish,  and  I  must  know  against  what  evils  I  should  be 
seech  Him  who  leaves  none  unguarded  to  protect  thy  youtF' 
and  simplicity." 

"  Mother,"  said  Hamish,  "  it  signifies  little  to  what  a  crim 
inal  may  be  exposed,  if  a  man  is  determined  not  to  be  suchi 
Our  highland  chiefs  used  also  to  punish  their  vassals,  and 
as  I  have  heard,  severely.  Was  it  not  Lachlan  Maclan 
whom  we  remember  of  old,  whose  head  was  struck  off  b; 
order  of  his  chieftain  for  shooting  at  the  stag  before  him  ?' 

"  Ay,"  said  Elspat,  "and  right  he  had  to  lose  it,  since  h 
dishonored  the  father  of  tke  people  even  in  the  face  of  th 
assembled  clan.  But  the  chiefs  were  noble  in  their  ire 
they  punished  with  the  sharp  blade,  and  not  with  tin 
baton.    Their  punishments  drew  blood,  but  they  did  not  infe^ 


\l 


THE  HIGH  LAND  WIDOW  428 

dishonor.     Canst   thou    say    the  same  for  the   laws   under 
whose  yoke  thou  hast  phiced  thy  freeborn  neck  ?" 

"  I  cannot,  mother — I  cannot/'  said  Hamish,  mourn- 
fully. "  I  saw  them  punish  a  Sassenach  for  deserting,  as 
they  called  it,  his  banner.  He  was  scourged,  I  own  it — 
scourged  like  a  hound  who  has  offended  an  imperious  master. 
I  was  sick  at  the  sight,  I  confess  it.  But  the  punishment 
of  dogs  is  only  for  those  worse  than  dogs,  who  know  not 
how  to  keep  their  faith." 

"  To  this  infamy,  however,  thou  hast  subjected  thyself, 
Hamish,"  replied  Elspat,  "  if  thou  shouldst  give,  or  thy 
officers  take,  measure  of  offense  against  thee.  I  speak  no 
more  to  thee  on  thy  purpose.  Were  the  sixth  day  from  this 
morning's  sun  my  dying  day,  and  thou  wert  to  stay  to  close 
mine  eyes,  thou  wouldst  run  the  risk  of  being  lashed  like  a 
dog  at  a  post — yes  !  unless  thou  hadst  the  gallant  heart  to 
leave  me  to  die  alone,  and  upon  my  desolate  hearth,  the  last 
spark  of  thy  father's  fire  and  of  thy  forsaken  mother's  life 
to  be  extinguished  together  !  " 

Hamish  traversed  the  hut  with  an  impatient  and  angry 
pace,  "  Mother,"  he  said  at  length,  "  concern  not  yourself 
about  such  things.  I  cannot  be  subjected  to  such  infamy, 
for  never  will  I  deserve  it ;  and  were  I  threatened  with  it,  I 
should  know  how  to  die  before  I  was  so  far  dishonored." 

*'  There  spoke  the  son  of  the  husband  of  my  heart !  "  re- 
plied Elsi^at ;  and  she  changed  the  discourse,  and  seemed  to 
listen  in  melancholy  acquiescence  when  her  son   reminded 
her  how  short  the  time  was  which  they  were  permitted  to 
pass  in  each  other's  society,  and  entreated  that  it  might  be 
spent  without  useless  and  uni3leasant  recollections  respecting 
the  circumstances  under  which  they  must  soon  be  separated. 
Elspat  was  now  satisfied  that  her  son,  with  some  of  his 
father's  other  properties,  preserved  the  haughty  masculine 
spirit  which  rendered  it  impossible  to  divert  him  from  a  res- 
olution which  he  had  deliberately  adopted.     She  assumed, 
therefore,  an  exterior  of  apparent  submission  to  their  in- 
evitable separation  ;  and  if  she  now  and  then  broke  out  into 
complaints  and   murmurs,  it  was  either  that  she  could  not 
by   altogether  suppress  the  natural  impetuosity  of  her  temper, 
or   because   she   had  the  wit  to  consider  that  a  total  and 
\\  unreserved    acquiescence    might    have    seemed  to   her   son 
list  constrained  and  suspicious,  and  induced  him  to  watch  and 
defeat  the  means  by  which  she  still  hoped  to  prevent  his  leav- 
li^  ing  her.     Her  ardent,  thougli  selfish,  aiTection  for  her  son, 
;ej  incapable  of  being  qualified  by  a  regard  for  the  true  interests 


424  WAVER  LEY  NOVELS 

of  the  unfortunate  object  of  her  attachment,  resembled  the 
instinctive  fondness  of  the  animal  race  for  their  otfspring  ; 
and  diving  little  farther  into  futurity  than  one  of  the  in- 
ferior creatures,  she  only  felt  that  to  be  separated  from 
Hamish  was  to  die. 

In  the  brief  interval  that  permitted  them,  Elspat  ex- 
hausted every  art  which  affection  could  devise  to  render 
agreeable  to  him  the  space  which  they  were  apparently  to 
spend  with  each  other.  Her  memory  carried  her  far  back 
into  former  days,  and  her  stores  of  legendary  history,  which 
furnish  at  all  times  a  principal  amusement  of  the  High- 
lander in  his  moments  of  repose,  were  augmented  by  an 
unusual  acquaintance  with  the  songs  of  ancient  bards,  and 
traditions  of  the  most  approved  seannachies  and  tellers  of 
tales.  Her  officious  attentions  to  her  son's  accommodation, 
indeed,  were  so  unremitted  as  almost  to  give  him  pain  ;  and 
he  endeavored  quietly  to  prevent  her  from  taking  so  much 
personal  toil  in  selecting  the  blooming  heath  for  his  bed, 
or  preparing  the  meal  for  his  refreshment.  "  Let  me  alone, 
Hamish,"  she  would  reply  on  such  occasions  ;  ''  you  follow 
your  own  will  in  departing  from  your  mother,  let  your 
mother  have  hers  in  doing  what  gives  her  pleasure  while 
you  remain." 

So  much  she  seemed  to  be  reconciled  to  the  arrangements 
which  he  had  made  in  her  behalf,  that  she  could  hear  him 
speak  to  her  of  her  removing  to  the  lands  of  Green   Colin, 
as  the  gentleman  was  called  on  whose  estate  he  had  provided 
her  an  asylum.     In  truth,  however,  nothing  could  be  farther 
from  her  thoughts.     From  what  he  had  said   during  tbeii 
first  violent  dispute,  Elspat  had  gathered  that,  if  Hamist 
returned  not  by  the  appointed   time  permitted  by  bis  fur 
lough,  he  would  incur  the  hazard  of  corporal  ijunishment 
Were  he  placed  within  the  risk  of  being  thus  dishonored 
she  was  well  aware  that  he  would  never  submit  to  the  dis 
grace  by  a  return  to  the  regiment  where   it  miglit  be   in 
flicted.     Whether  she  looked  to  any  farther  probable  corL 
sequences  of  her  unhappy  scheme  cannot  be  known  ;  bu 
the  partner  of  MacTavish  Mhor,  in  all  his  perils  and  wan 
derings,  was  familiar  with  an  hundred  instances  of  resistanc, 
or  escape,  by  which  one  brave  man,  amidst  a  land  of  rocks'- 
lakes,  and  mountains,  dangerous  passes,  and  dark  forests 
might   bafHe   the  pursuit  of   hundreds.      For   the   futurt 
therefore,  she  feared  nothing  ;  her  sole  engrossing  objec 
was  to  prevent  her  son  from  keeping  his  word  with  his  con 
manding-officer. 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  425 

With  this  secret  purpose,  she  evaded  the  proposal  which 
Hamish  repeatedly  made,  that  they  should  set  out  together 
to  take  possession!  of  her  new  abode  ;  and  she  resisted  it  upon 
grounds  apparently  so  natural  to  her  character  that  her  son 
was  neither  alarmed  nor  displeased.  *'  Let  me  not,"  she  said, 
"  in  the  same  short  week,  bid  farewell  to  my  only  son  and  to 
the  glen  in  which  I  have  so  long  dwelt.  Let  my  eye,  when 
dimmed  with  weeping  for  thee,  still  look  around,  for  awhile 
at  least,  upon  Loch  Awe  and  on  Ben  Cruachan." 

Hamish  yielded  the  more  willingly  to  his  mother's  humor 
in  this  particular,  that  one  or  two  persons  who  resided  in  a 
neighboring  glen,  and  had  given  their  sons  to  Barcaldine's 
levy,  were  also  to  be  provided  for  on  the  estate  of  the  chief- 
tain, and  it  was  apparently  settled  that  Elspat  was  to  take  her 
journey  along  with  them  Vhen  they  should  remove  to  their 
new  residence.  Thus,  Hamish  believed  that  he  had  at  once 
indulged  his  mother's  humor  and  ensured  her  safety  and  ac- 
commodation. But  she  nourished  in  her  mind  very  different 
thoughts  and  projects  ! 

The  period  of  Hamish's  leave  of  absence  was  fast  approach- 
ing, and  more  than  once  he  proposed  to  depart,  in  such  time 
as  to  ensure  his  gaining  easily  and  early  Dunbarton,  the  town 
where  Avere  the  headquarters  of  his  regiment.  But  still  his 
mother's  entreaties,  his  own  natural  disposition  to  linger 
among  scenes  long  dear  to  him,  and,  above  all,  his  firm  reli- 
ance in  his  speed  and  activity,  induced  him  to  protract  his 
departure  till  the  sixth  day,  being  the  very  last  which  he 
could  possibly  afford  to  spend  with  his  mother,  if  indeed  he 
meant  to  comply  with  the  conditions  of  his  furlough. 


CHAPTER  V 

But  for  your  son,  believe  it — oli,  believe  it — 
Most  dangerously  you  have  with  him  prevailed, 
If  not  most  mortal  to  him. 

Coriolanus. 

On  the  evening  which  preceded  his  proposed  departure,  Ham' 
ish  walked  down  to  the  river  withliis  fishing-rod,  to  practise 
in  the  Awe,  for  the  last  time,  a  sport  in  which  he  excelled, 
and  to  find,  at  the  same  time,  the  means  for  making  one 
social  meal  with  his  mother  on  something  better  than  their 
ordinary  cheer.  He  was  as  successful  as  usual,  and  soon 
killed  a  fine  salmon.  On  his  return  homeward  an  incident 
befell  him,  which  he  afterwards  related  as  ominous,  though 
probably  his  heated  imagination,  joined  to  the  universal  turn 
of  his  countrymen  for  the  marvelous,  exaggerated  into  su- 
perstitious importance  some  very  ordinary  and  accidental 
circumstance. 

In  the  piitli  which  he  pursued  homeward,  he  was  surprised 
to  observe  a  person,  who,  like  himself,  was  dressed  and  armed  i 
after  the  old  Highland  fashion.  The  first  idea  that  struck  f  t| 
him  was,  that  the  passenger  belonged  to  his  own  corps,  who, 
levied  by  government,  and  bearing  arms  under  royal  author- 
ity, were  not  amenable  for  breach  of  the  statutes  against  the 
use  of  the  Highland  garb  or  weapons.  But  he  was  struck  on 
perceiving,  as  he  mended  his  pace  to  make  up  to  his  supposedi 
comrade  meaning  to  request  his  company  for  the  next  day's 
journey,  that  the  stranger  wore  a  white  cockade,  the  fatal 
badge  which  was  proscribed  in  the  Highlands.  The  stature 
of  the  man  was  tall,  and  there  was  something  shadowy  in  the 
outline,  which  added  to  his  size  ;  and  his  mode  of  motion, 
which  rather  resembled  gliding  than  walking,  impressed 
Hamish  with  superstitious  fears  concerning  the  character  of 
the  being  which  thus  passed  before  him  in  the  twilight.  He 
no  longer  strove  to  make  up  to  the  stranger,  but  contented 
himself  with  keeping  liiui  in  view,  under  the  superstition 
common  to  the  Highlanders,  that  you  ought  neither  to  in- 
trude yourself  on  such  supernatural  apparitions  as  you  may 
witness,  nor  avoid  their  presence,  but  leave  it  to  themselves 
to  withhold  or  extend  their  communication,  as  their  power 
may  permit,  or  the  purpose  of  their  commission  require. 
426 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  42 

Jpon  an  elevated  knoll  by  the  side  of  the  road,  just  where 
t.he  pathway  turned  down  to  Elspat's  hut,  the  stranger  made 
a  pause,  and  seemed  to  await  Hamish's  coming  up.  Hamish, 
on  his  part,  seeing  it  was  necessary  he  should  pass  the  object 
of  his  suspicion,  mustered  up  his  courage,  and  approached 
the  spot  where  the  stranger  had  placed  himself,  who  first 
pointed  to  IClspat's  hut,  and  made,  with  arm  and  head,  a 
gesture  prohibiting  Hamish  to  approach  it,  then  stretched 
his  liand  to  the  road  which  led  to  the  southward,  with  a 
motion  which  seemed  to  enjoin  his  instant  departure  in  that 
direction.  In  a  moment  afterwards  the  plaided  form  v/as 
gone — Hamish  did  not  exactly  say  vanished,  because  there 
were  rocks  and  stunted  trees  enough  to  have  concealed  him  ; 
but  it  was  his  own  opinion  tliat  he  had  seen  the  spirit  of 
.MacTavish  Mhor,  warning  him  to  commence  his  instant 
journey  to  Dunbarton,  without  waiting  till  morning,  or 
again  visiting  his  mother's  hut. 

In  fact,  so  many  accidents  might  arise  to  delay  his  jour- 
ney, especially  where  there  many  ferries,  that  it  became  his 
settled  purpose,  though  he  could  notdepart  without  bidding 
his  mother  adieu,  that  he  neither  could  nor  would  abide 
longer  tlian  for  that  object ;  and  that  the  first  glimpse  of 
next  day's  sun  should  see  him  many  miles  advanced  towards 
Dunbarton.  He  descended  the  path,  therefore,  and  entering 
the  cottage,  he  communicated,  in  a  hasty  and  troubled  voice, 
which  indicated  mental  agitation,  his  determination  to  take 
his  instant  departure.  Somewhat  to  his  surprise,  Elspat 
appeared  not  to  combat  his  purpose,  but  she  urged  him  to 
take  some  refreshment  ere  he  left  her  forever.  He  did  so 
hastily,  and  in  silence,  thinking  on  the  approaching  separa- 
tion, and  scarce  yet  believing  it  would  take  place  without  a 
final  struggle  with  his  mother's  fondness.  To  his  surprise, 
she  filled  the  quaigh  with  liquor  for  his  parting  cup. 

"  Go,"  she  said,  "  my  son,  since  such  is  thy  settled  pur- 
pose ;  but  first  stand  once  more  on  thy  mother's  hearth,  the 
flame  on  which  will  be  extinguished  long  ere  thy  foot  shall 
again  be  placed  there." 

"  To  your  health,  mother  !"  said  Hamish,  "and  may  we 
meet  again  in  happiness,  in  spite  of  your  ominous  words." 

_ "  It  were  better  not  to  part,"  said  his  mother,  watching 
him  as  he  quaffed  the  liquor,  of  which  he  would  have  held 
it  ominous  to  have  left  a  drop. 

"And  now,"  she  said,  muttering  the  words  to  herself,  '•  go 
—if  thou  canst  go." 

"  Mother,"  said  Hamish.  as  he  replaced  on  the  table  the 


428  tVAVERLET  NOVELS. 

empty  quaigh,  "  tli}'  drink  is  pleasant  to  the  taste,  but  it 
takes  away  the  strength  which  it  ought  to  give." 

"  Such  is  its  first  effect,  my  son,"''  replied  Elspat  ;  "but 
lie  down  on  that  soft  heather  couch,  shut  your  eyes  but  for 
a  moment,  and,  in  the  sleep  of  an  hour,  you  shall  have  more 
refreshment  than  in  the  ordinary  repose  of  three  whole 
nights,  could  they  be  blended  into  one.'* 

"  Mother,"  sand  Hamish,  upon  whose  brain  tlie  potion  was 
now  taking  rapid  effect,  "give  me  my  bonnet,  I  must  kiss 
Tou  and  begone  ;  yet  it  seems  as  if  my  feet  were  nailed  to 
the  floor." 

"  Indeed,"  said  his  mother,  "  you  wnll  be  instantly  well,  if 
you  will  sit  down  for  half  an  hour — but  half  an  hour  ;  it  is 
eight  hours  to  dawn,  and  dawn  were  time  enough  for  your 
father's  son  to  begin  such  a  journey." 

"  I  must  obey  you,  mother — I  feel  I  must,"  said  Hamish, 
inarticulately  ;  "but  call  me  when  the  moon  rises." 

He  sat  down  on  the  bed,  reclined  back,  and  almost  in- 
stantly was  fast  asleep.  With  tlie  throbbing  glee  of  one 
who  has  brought  to  an  end  a  difficult  and  troublesome  enter- 
prise, Elspat  proceeded  tenderly  to  arrange  the  plaid  of  the 
unconscious  slumberer,  to  whom  her  extravagant  affection 
was  doomed  to  be  so  fatal,  expressing,  while  busied  in  her 
office,  her  delight  in  tones  of  mingled  tenderness  and  tri- 
umph. "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  calf  of  my  heart,  the  moon  shall 
arise  and  set  to  thee,  and  so  shall  the  sun  ;  but  not  to  light 
thee  from  the  land  of  thy  fathers,  or  tempt  thee  to  serve  the 
foreign  prince  or  the  feudal  enemy.  To  no  son  of  Dermid 
shall  I  be  delivered,  to  be  fed  like  a  bondswoman  ;  but  he 
who  is  my  pleasure  and  my  pride  shall  be  my  guard  and 
my  protector.  They  say  the  Highlands  are  changed  ;  but  I 
see  Ben  Cruachan  rear  his  crest  as  high  as  ever  into  the 
evening  sky,  no  one  hath  yet  herded  his  kine  on  the  depth 
of  Loch  Awe,  and  yonder  oak  does  not  yet  bend  like  a 
willow.  The  children  of  the  mountains  will  be  such  as  their 
fathers,  until  the  mountains  themselves  shall  be  leveled  with 
the  strath.  In  these  wild  forests,  which  used  to  support 
thousands  of  the  brave,  there  is  still  surely  subsistence  and 
refuge  left  for  one  aged  woman  and  one  gallant  youth,  of 
the  ancient  race  and  the  ancient  manners." 

While  the  misjudging  mother  thus  exulted  in  the  success 
of  her  stratagem,  we  may  mention  to  the  reader,  that  it  was 
founded  on  the  acquaintance  with  drugs  and  simples  which 
Elspat,  accomplished  in  all  things  belonging  to  the  wild  life 
which  she  had  led,  possessed  in  an  uncommon  degree,  and; 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  42a 

which  she  exercised  for  various  purposes.  With  the  herbs, 
which  she  know  how  to  select  as  well  as  how  to  distil,  she 
could  relieve  more  diseases  than  a  regular  medical  person 
could  easily  believe.  She  applied  some  to  dye  the  bright 
colors  of  the  tartan,  from  others  she  compounded  draughts 
of  various  powers,  and  unhappily  possessed  the  secret  of  one 
which  was  strongly  soporific.  Upon  the  effects  of  this  last 
concoction,  as  the  reader  doubtless  has  anticipated,  she  reck- 
oned with  security  on  delaying  Hamish  beyond  the  period 
for  which  his  return  was  appointed  ;  and  she  trusted  to  his 
horror  for  the  apprehended  punishment  to  which  he  was  thus 
rendered  liable  to  prevent  him  from  returning  at  all. 

Sound  and  deep,  beyond  natural  rest,  was  the  sleep  of 
Hamish  MacTavish  on  that  eventful  evening,  but  not  sucii 
the  repose  of  his  mother.  Scarce  did  she  close  her  eyes  from 
time  to  time,  but  she  awakened  again  with  a  start,  in  the 
terror  that  her  son  had  arisen  and  departed  ;  and  it  was  only 
on  approaching  his  couch,  and  hearing  his  deep-drawn  and 
regular  breathing,  that  she  reassured  herself  of  the  security 
of  the  repose  in  which  he  was  plunged. 

Still,  dawning,  she  feared,  might  awaken  him,  notwith- 
standing the  unusual  strength  of  the  potion  with  which  she 
had  drugged  his  cup.  If  there  remained  a  hope  of  mortal 
man  accomplishing  the  journey,  she  was  aware  that  Hamish 
would  attempt  it,  though  he  were  to  die  from  fatigue  upon 
the  road.  Animated  by  this  new  fear,  she  studied  to  exclude 
the  light,  by  stopping  all  the  crannies  and  crevices  through 
which,  rather  than  through  any  regular  entrance,  the  morn- 
ning  beams  might  find  access  to  her  miserable  dwelling  ;  and 
this  in  order  to  detain  amid  its  wants  and  wretchedness  the 
being  on  whom,  if  the  world  itself  had  been  at  her  disposal, 
she  would  have  joyfully  conferred  it. 

Her  pains  were  bestowed  unnecessarily.  The  sun  rose  high 
above  the  heavens,  and  not  the  fleetest  stag  in  Breadalbane, 
were  the  hounds  at  his  heels,  could  have  sped,  to  save  his 
life,  so  fast  as  would  have  been  necessary  to  keep  Hamish's 
appointment.  Her  purpose  was  fully  attained  :  her  son's 
return  within  the  period  assigned  was  impossible.  She 
deemed  it  equally  impossible  that  he  would  ever  dream  of 
returning,  standing,  as  he  must  now  do,  in  the  danger  of  an 
infamous  punishment.  By  degrees,  and  at  different  times, 
she  had  gained  from  him  a  full  acquaintance  with  the  pre- 
dicament in  which  he  would  be  placed  by  failing  to  appear 
on  the  day  appointed,  and  the  very  small  hope  he  could  en- 
tertain of  being  treated  with  lenity. 


i-6  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

It  is  well  known,  that  the  great  and  wise  Earl  of  Chat- 
ham iirided  himself  on  the  scheme  by  which  he  drew  together 
for  the  defense  of  the  colonies  those  hardly  Highlanders  who, 
until  his  time,  had  been  the  objects  of  doubt,  fear  and  sus- 
picion on  the  part  of  each  successive  administration.  But 
some  obstacles  occurred,  from  the  peculiar  habits  and  temper 
of  this  people,  to  the  execution  of  his  patriotic  project.  By 
nature  and  habit,  every  Highlander  was  accustomed  to  the 
use  of  arms,  but  at  the  same  time  totally  unaccustomed  to, 
and  impatient  of,  the  restraints  imposed  by  discipline  upon 
regular  troops.  They  were  a  species  of  militia,  who  had  no 
conception  of  a  camp  as  their  only  home.  If  a  battle  was 
lost,  they  dispersed  to  save  themselves,  and  look  out  for  the 
safety  of  their  families  ;  if  won,  they  went  back  to  their  glens 
to  hoard  up  their  booty,  and  attend  to  their  cattle  and  their 
farms.  The  privilege  of  going  and  coming  at  pleasure  they 
would  not  be  deprived  of  even  by  their  chiefs,  whose  au- 
thority was  in  most  other  respects  so  despotic.  It  followed  as 
a  matter  of  course  that  the  new-levied  Highland  recruits 
could  scarce  be  made  to  comprehend  the  nature  of  a  military 
engagement  which  compelled  a  man  to  serve  in  the  army 
longer  than  he  pleased  ;  and  perhaps,  in  many  instances, 
sufficient  care  was  not  taken  at  enlisting  to  explain  to  them 
the  permanency  of  the  engagement  which  they  came  under, 
lest  such  a  disclosure  should  induce  them  to  change  theii 
mind.  Desertions  were  therefore  become  numerous  from  tluu 
newly-raised  regiment,  and  the  veteran  general  who  com-| 
manded  at  Dunbarton  saw  no  better  way  of  checking  them^ 
than  by  causing  an  unusually  severe  example  to  be  made  of  i 
deserter  from  an  English  corps.  The  young  Highland  regii 
ment  was  obliged  to  attend  upon  the  punishment,  whicl 
struck  a  people  peculiarly  jealous  of  personal  honor  witl 
equal  horror  and  disgust,  and  not  unnaturally  indispose* 
some  of  them  to  the  service.  The  old  general,  however,  nrh^ 
had  been  regularly  bred  in  the  German  wars,  stuck  to  hi 
own  opinion,  and  gave  out  in  orders  that  the  first  Highlande 
who  might  either  desert  or  fail  to  appear  at  the  expiry  ox  hi 
furlough  should  be  brought  to  the  halberds,  and  punishe| 
like  the  culprit  whom  they  had  seen  in  that  condition.     Nj| 

man  doubted  that  General would  keep  his  word  rigor 

ously  whatever  severity  was  required  ;  and  Elspat,  therefore' 
knew  that  her  son,  when  he  perceived  that  due  compliant 
with  his  orders  was  impossible,  must  at  the  same  time  coi 
sider    the    degrading  punishment   denounced    against  h 


I 


TEE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  431 

defection  as  inevitable,  should  he  place  himself  within  the 
general's  power.* 

When  noon  was  well  passed,  new  apprehensions  came  on 
the  mind  of  tlie  lonely  woman.  Her  son  still  slept  under 
the  influence  of  the  draught ;  but  what  if,  being  stronger 
than  she  liad  ever  known  it  administered,  his  health  or  his 
reason  should  be  affected  by  its  potency  ?  For  the  first 
time,  .likewise,  notwithstanding  her  high  ideas  on  the  sub- 
ject of  parental  authority,  she  began  to  dread  the  resent- 
ment of  her  son,  whom  her  heart  told  her  she  had  wronged. 
Of  late,  she  had  observed  that  his  temper  was  less  docile, 
and  his  determinations,  especially  upon  this  late  occasion 
of  his  enlistment,  independently  formed,  and  then  boldly 
carried  through.  She  remembered  the  stern  wilfulness  of 
his  father  when  he  accounted  himself  ill-used,  and  began  to 
dread  that  llamish,  upon  finding  the  deceit  she  had  put 
upon  him,  might  resent  it  even  to  the  extent  of  casting  her 
off,  and  pursuing  his  own  course  through  the  world  alone. 
Such  were  the  alarming  and  yet  the  reasonable  apprehensions 
which  began  to  crowd  upon  the  unfortunate  woman,  after 
the  apparent  success  of  her  ill-advised  stratagem. 

It  was  near  the  evening  when  Hamish  first  awoke,  and 
then  he  was  far  from  being  in  the  full  possession  either  of 
\  his  mental  or  bodily  powers.  From  his  vague  expressions 
and  disordered  pulse,  Elspat  at  first  experienced  much  ap- 
prehension ;  but  she  used  such  expedients  as  her  medical 
knowledge  suggested  ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  night  she 
had  the  satisfaction  to  see  him  sink  once  more  into  a  deep 
sleep,  which  probably  carried  off  the  greater  part  of  the 
effects  of  the  drug,  for  about  sunrising  she  heard  him  arise 
and  call  to  her  for  his  bonnet.  This  she  had  purposely  re- 
moved, from  a  fear  that  he  might  awaken  and  depart  in  the 
night-time,  without  her  knowledge. 

"My  bonnet — my  bonnet,"  cried  Hamish;  "it  is  time 
to  take  farewell.  Mother,  your  drink  was  too  strong.  The 
sun  is  up  ;  but  with  the  next  morning  I  will  still  see  the 
double  summit  of  the  ancient  dun.  My  bonnet — my  bon- 
net!  mother,  I  must  be  instant  in  my  departure."  These 
expressions  made  it  plain  that  poor  Hamish  was  unconscious 
that  two  nights  and  a  day  had  passed  since  he  had  drained  the 
fatal  quaigh,  and  Elspat  had  now  to  venture  on  what  she 
felt  as  the  almost  perilous,  as  well  as  painful,  task  of  ex- 
plaining her  machinations. 

*  See  naelity  of  the  Highlanders.    Note  39. 


132  WA  VERLET  NO VEL8 

"  Forgive  me,  my  son,"  she  said,  approaching  Hamish, 
and  taking  him  by  the  hand  with  an  air  of  deferential  awe, 
which  perhaps  she  had  not  always  used  to  his  father,  even 
when  in  his  moody  fits. 

"Forgive  you,  mother — for  what?"  said  Hamish,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  for  giving  me  a  dram  that  was  too  strong,  and  which 
my  head  still  feels  tins  morning,  or  for  hiding  my  bonnet  to 
keep  me  an  instant  longer  ?  Nay,  do  you  forgive  me.  Give 
me  the  bonnet,  and  let  that  be  done  which  now  must  be 
done.  Give  me  my  bonnet,  or  I  go  without  it ;  surely  I  am 
not  to  be  delayed  by  so  trifling  a  want  as  that — I,  who  have 
gone  for  years  with  only  a  strap  of  deer's  hide  to  tie  back 
my  hair.  Trifle  not,  but  give  it  me,  or  I  must  go  bare- 
headed, since  to  stay  is  impossible." 

"  My  son,"  said  Elspat,  keeping  fast  hold  of  his  hand, 
" what  is  done  cannot  be  recalled:  could  you  borrow  the 
wings  of  yonder  eagle,  you  would  arrive  at  the  dun  too  late 
for  what  you  propose — too  soon  for  what  awaits  you  there;, 
You  believe  you  see  the  sun  rising  for  the  first  time  sinci 
you  have  seen  him  set,  but  yesterday  beheld  him  climb  Be: 
Cruachan,  though  your  eyes  were  closed  to  his  light." 

Hamish  cast  upon  his  mother  a  wild  glance  of  extremi 
terror,  then  instantly   recovering  himself,  said,  "  I  am  ni 
child  to  be  cheated  out  of  my  purpose  by  such  tricks 
these.      Farewell,  mother,  each   moment  is  worth   a  lifi 
time.'* 

**  Stay,"  she  said,  *'  my  dear — my  deceived  son  !  rush  n 
on  infamy  and   ruin.     Yonder  I  see  the  priest  upon    th 
highroad  on  his  white  horse  ;   ask  him  the  day  of  the  month 
and  week — let  him  decide  between  us. 

With  the  speed  of  an  eagle,  Hamish  darted  up  the  ac- 
clivity, and  stood  by  the  minister  of  Glenorquhy,  who  was 
pacing  out  thus  early  to  administer  consolation  to  a  dis^' 
tressed  family  near  Bunawe. 

The  good  man  was  somewhat  startled  to  behold  an  armed; 
Highlander,  then  so  unusual  a  sight,  and  apparently  mucl:! 
agitated,  stop  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  ask  him  with  £] 
faltering  voice  the  day  of  the  week  and  month.  "  Had  yorl 
been  where  you  should  have  been  yesterday,  young  man,i 
replied  the  clergyman,  "  you  would  have  known  that  it  wafi  \i 
God's  Sabbath  ;  and  that  this  is  Monday,  the  second  day  o:.;I  li- 
the week,  and  twenty-first  of  the  month." 

"And  this  is  true  ?"  said  Hamish. 

"  As  true,"  answered  the  surprised  minister,  **  as  that 
yesterday  preached  the  Word  of  God  to  this  parish.     Wha 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  43 

ails  you,  young  man  ?  are  you  sick  ?  are  you  in  your  right 
mind  ?  " 

Hainish  made  no  answer,  only  repeated  to  himself  the  first 
expression  of  the  clergyman —  "  Had  you  been  where  you 
should  have  been  yesterday  ; "  and  so  saying,  he  let  go  the 
bridle,  turned  from  the  road,  and  descended  the  path  towards 
the  hut,  with  the  look  and  j^ace  of  one  who  was  going  to  exe- 
cution.    The  minister  looked  after  him  with  surprise  ;  but 
although  he  knew  the  inhabitant  of  the  hovel,  the  character 
of  Elspat  had  not  invited  him  to  open  any  communication 
with  her,  because  she  was  generally  reputed  a  Papist,  or 
rather  one  indifferent  to  all  religion,  except  some  supersti- 
tious observances  which  had  been  handed  doAvn  from  her 
parents.     On  Hamish  the  Eeverend  Mr.  Tyrie  had  bestowed 
instructions  when  he  was  occasionally  thrown  in  his  way, 
and  if  the  seed  fell  among  the  brambles  and  thorns  of  a  wild 
and  uncultivated  dis2Josition,  it  had  not  yet  been  entirely 
checked  or  destroyed.     There  was  something  so  ghastly  in 
the  present  expression  of  the  youth's  features,  that  the  good 
man   was  tempted  to  go  down  to  the  hovel,  and  inquire 
whether  any  distress  had  befallen  tlie  inhabitants,  in  which 
his  presence  might  be  consoling  and  his  ministry  useful. 
,  Unhappily  he   did  not  persevere  in  this  resolution,  which 
;  might  have  saved  a  great  misfortune,  as  he  would  have  prob- 
ably become   a  mediator  for  the  unfortunate  young  man  ; 
'  but  a  recollection  of  the  wild  moods  of  such  Highlanders  as 
!  had  been  educated  after  the  old  fashion  of  the  country  pre- 
i  vented  his  interesting  liimself  in  the  widow  and  son  of  the 
;  far-dreaded  robber  MacTavish  Mhor  ;  and  he  thus  missed  an 
opportunity,  which  he  afterwards  sorely  repented,  of  doing 
;  much  good. 

When  Hamish  MacTavish  entered  his  mother's  hut,  it  was 
only  to  throw  himself  on  the  bed  lie  had  left,  and  exclaiming, 
"Undone — undone  !"  to  give  vent,  in  cries  of  grief  and 
t  anger,  to  his  deep  sense  of  the  deceit  which  had  been  prac- 
tised on  him,  and  of  the  cruel  predicament  to  which  he  was 
reduced. 
Elspat  was  prepared  for  the  first  explosion  of  her  son's 
I  passion,  and  said  to  herself,  *'It  is  but  the  mountain  torrent 
!  swelled  by  the  thunder-shower.     Let  us  sit  and  rest  us  by  the 
bank  ;  for  all  its  present  tumult,  the  time  will  soon  come 
when  we  may  pass  it  dryshod."     She  suffered  his  complaints 
and  his  reproaches,  which  were,  even  in  the  midst  of  his 
:  agony,  respectful  and  affectionate,  to  die  away  without  re- 
turning any  answer  ;  and  when,  at  length,  having  exhausted 
28 


m  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

all  the  exclamations  of  sorrow  which  his  language,  copious  in  , 
expressing  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  affords  to  the  sufferer,  • 
he  sunk  into  a  gloomy  silence,  slie  sutt'ered  the  interval  to 
continue  near  an  hour  ere  she  approached  her  son's  couch. 

"  And  now,"  she  said  at  length,  with  a  voice  in  which  the 
authority  of  the  mother  was  qualified  by  her  tenderness, 
"  have  you  exhausted  your  idle  sorrows,  and  are  you  able  to 
place  what  you  have  gained  against  what  you  have  lost  ?  Is 
the  false  son  of  Dermid  your  brother,  or  the  father  of  your 
tribe,  that  you  Vicep  because  you  cannot  bind  yourself  to  his 
belt,  and  become  one  of  those  who  must  do  his  bidding  : 
Could  you  find  in  your  yonder  distant  country  the  lakes  and 
the  mountains  that  you  leave  behind  you  h.ere  ?  Can  yoi. 
hunt  the  deer  of  Breadalbane  in  the  forests  of  America^  oi 
will  the  ocean  afford  you  the  silver-scaled  salmon  of  the  Awe; 
Consider,  then,  what  is  your  loss,  and,  like  a  wise  man,  sei 
it  against  what  you  have  won." 

"I  have  lost  all,  mother,"  replied  Hamish,  ''since  I  hav( 
broken  my  word  and  lost  my  honor.  I  might  tell  my  tale 
but  who — oh,  who  would  believe  me?"  The  unfortunatt 
young  man  again  clasped  his  hands  together,  and,  pressin; 
them  to  his  forehead,  hid  his  face  upon  the  bed. 

Elspat  was  now  really  alarmed,  and  perhaps  wished  th 
fatal  deceit  had  been  left  unattempted.  She  had  no  hopeo 
refuge  saving  in  the  eloquence  of  persuasion,  of  which  sh 
possessed  no  small  share,  though  her  total  ignorance  of  th 
world  as  it  actually  existed  rendered  its  energy  unavailing 
She  urged  her  son,  by  every  tender  epithet  which  a  parer 
could  bestow,  to  take  care  for  his  own  safety. 

**  Leave  me,"  she  said,  "  to  baffle  your  pursuers.     I  Avi 
save  your  life — I  will  save  your  honor.     I  will  tell  them  thj* 
my  fair-haired  Hamish  fell  from  the  '  corrie  dhu'    (blaci  j. 
precipice)  into  the  gulf,  of  which  human  eye  never  behel 
the  bottom.     I  will  tell  them  this,  and  I  will  fling  your  plai 
on  the  thorns  which  grow  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  thi 
they  may  believe  my  words.     They  will  believe,  and  thel  j". 
will  return  to  the  dun  of  the  double-crest ;  for  though  tlM.  ti 
Saxon  drum  can  call  the  living  to  die,  it  cannot  recall  the  de^l  ^' 
to  their  slavish  standard.     Then  will  we  travel  together  iif    ' 
northward  to  the  salt  lakes  of  Kintail,  and  place  glens  arj 
mountains  betwixt  us  and  the  sons  of  Dermid.     We  wi 
visit  the  shores  of  the  dark  lake,  and  my  kinsmen — for  w^ 
not  my  mother  of  the  children  of  Kenneth,  and  will  th ' 
not  remember  us  with  the  old  love  ? — my  kinsmen  will  i' 
ceive  us  with  the  affection  of  the  olden  time,  which  lives  i 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIBOW  43^ 

those  distant  glens,  where  the  Gael  still  dwell  in  their  noble- 
ness, uuniiiigled  with  the  churl  Saxons,  or  with  the  base 
brood  that  are  their  tools  and  their  slaves/' 

The  energy  of  the  language,  somewhat  allied  to  hyperbole, 
even  in  its  most  ordinary  expressions,  now  seemed  almost  too 
weak  to  afford  Elspat  the  means  of  bringing  out  the  splendid 
picture  which  she  presented  to  her  son  of  the  land  in  which 
she  proposed  to  him  to  take  refuge.  Yet  the  colors  were 
few  with  which  she  could  paint  her  Highland  paradise. 
"  The  hills,"  she  said,  ''were  higher  and  more  magnificent 
than  those  of  Breadalbane  ;  Ben  Cruachan  was  but  a  dw?rf 
to  Skooroora.  The  lakes  were  broader  and  larger,  and 
abounded  not  only  with  fish,  but  with  the  enchanted  and 
ampliibious  animal  which  gives  oil  to  the  lamp.*  The  deer 
were  larger  and  more  numerous  ;  the  white-tusked  boar,  the 
chase  of  which  the  brave  loved  best,  was  yet  to  be  roused  in 
those  western  solitudes  ;  the  men  were  nobler,  wiser,  and 
stronger  than  the  degenerate  brood  who  lived  under  the 
Saxon  banner.  The  daughters  of  the  land  were  beautiful, 
with  blue  eyes  and  fair  hair,  and  bosoms  of  snow,  and  out 
cf  these  she  would  choose  a  wife  for  Hamish,  of  blameless 
descent,  spotless  fame,  fixed  and  true  affection,  who  should 
be  in  their  summer  bothy  as  a  beam  of  the  sun,  and  in  their 
winter  abode  as  the  warm.th  of  the  needful  fire." 

Such  were  the  topics  with  which  Elspat  strove  to  soothe 
the  despair  of  her  son,  and  to  determine  him,  if  possible,  to 
leave  the  fatal  spot,  on  which  he  seemed  resolved  to  linger. 
The  style  of  her  rhetoric  was  poetical,  but  in  other  respects 
resembled  that  which,  like  other  fond  mothers,  she  had 
lavished  on  Hamish  while  a  child  or  a  boy,  in  order  to  gain 
his  consent  to  do  something  he  had  no  mind  to ;  and  she 
spoke  louder,  quicker,  and  more  earnestly,  in  proportion  as 
she  began  to  despair  of  her  words  carrying  conviction. 

On  the  mind  of  Hamish  her  eloquence  made  no  impression. 
He  knew  far  better  than  she  did  the  actual  situation  of  the 
country,  and  was  sensible  that,  though  it  might  be  possible 
to  hide  himself  as  a  fugitive  among  more  distant  mountains, 
there  was  now  no  corner  in  the  Highlands  in  which  his  father's 
profession  could  be  practised,  even  if  he  had  not  adopted,  from 
the  improved  ideas  of  the  time  when  he  lived,  the  opinion 
that  the  trade  of  the  cateran  was  no  longer  the  road  to  honor 
and  distinction.  Her  words  were  therefore  poured  into  re- 
gardless ears,  and  she  exhausted  herself  in  vain  in  the  attemj^t 

*The  seals  are  considered  by  the  Highlanders  as  enchanted  princj©?. 


436  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  paint  the  regions  of  her  mother's  kinsmen  in  such  terms 
as  might  tempt  Hamish  to  accompany  her  thither.  She 
spoke  for  hours,  but  she  spoke  in  vain.  She  could  extort  no 
answer  save  groans,  and  sighs,  and  ejaculations  expressing 
the  extremit}'  of  despair. 

At  length,  starting  on  her  feet,  and  changing  the  monot- 
onous tone  in  which  she  had  chanted,  as  it  were,  the  praises 
of  the  province  of  refuge  into  the  short,  stern  language  of 
eager  passion — "  I  am  a  fool,"  she  said,  "  to  spend  my  words 
upon  an  idle,  poor-spirited,  unintelligent  boy,  who  crouches 
like  a  hound  to  the  lash.  Wait  here,  and  receive  your  task- 
masters, and  abide  your  chastisement  at  their  hands  ;  but 
do  not  think  your  mother's  eyes  will  behold  it,  I  could  not 
see  it  and  live.  My  eyes  have  looked  often  upon  death,  but 
never  upon  dishonor.  Farewell,  Hamish  !  We  never  meet 
again."  She  dashed  from  the  hut  like  a  lapwing,  and  perhaps 
for  the  moment  actually  entertained  the  purpose  which  she 
expressed,  of  parting  with  her  son  forever. 

A  fearful  sight  she  Avould  have  been  that  evening  to  any 
who  might  have  met  her  wandering  through  the  wilderness 
like  a  restless  spirit,  and  speaking  to  herself  in  language 
which  will  endure  no  translation.     She   rambled  for  hours, 
seeking  rather  than  shunning  the  most  dangerous  paths, 
The  precarious  track  through  the  morass,  the  dizzy  path: 
along  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  or  by  the  banks  of  the  gulf- 
ing  river,  were  the  roads   which,  far   from   avoiding,  sh 
60ught  with  eagerness,  and   traversed  with  reckless  haste. 
But  the  courage  arising  from  despair  was  the  means  of  savin 
the  life  which  (though  deliberate  suicide  was  rarely  practise 
in  the  Highlands)  she  was  perhaps  desirous  of  terrainatingj 
Her  step  on  the  verge  of  the  precipice  was  firm  as  that  o' 
the  wild  goat.     Her  eye,  in   that  state  of  excitation,  was  s< 
keen  as  to  discern,  even  amid  darkness,  the  perils  which 
noon  would  not  have  enabled  a  stranger  to  avoid. 

Elspat's  course  was  not  directly  forward,  else  she  had. 
soon  been  far  from  the  bothy  in  which  she  had  left  her  son.; 
It  was  circuitous,  for  that  hut  was  the  center  to  which  her 
heartstrings  were  chained,  and  though  she  wandered  around 
it,  she  felt  it  impossible  to  leave  the  vicinity.  With  the 
first  beams  of  morning,  she  returned  to  the  hut,  Awhilej 
she  paused  at  the  wattled  door,  as  if  shamed  that  lingering! 
fondness  should  have  brought  her  back  to  the  spot  which' 
she  had  left  with  the  purpose  of  never  returning  ;  but  there 
was  yet  more  of  fear  than  anxiety  in  her  hesitation — of  anx- 
iety, lest  her  fair-haired  son  had  suffered  from  the  effects  Oj 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  437 

her  potion;  of  fear,  lest  his  enemies  had  come  npon  him 
in  the  night.  She  opened  the  door  of  the  hut  gently,  and 
entered  with  noiseless  step.  Exhausted  with  his  sorrow  and 
anxiety,  and  not  entirely  relieved,  perhaps,  from  the  in- 
fluence of  the  powerful  opiate,  Hamish  Bean  again  slept  the 
stern  sound  sleep  by  which  the  Indians  are  said  to  be  over- 
come during  the  interval  of  their  torments.  His  mother 
was  scarcely  sure  that  she  actually  discerned  his  form  on  the 
bed,  scarce  certain  that  her  ear  caught  the  sound  of  his 
breathing.  With  a  throbbing  heart,  Elspat  went  to  the 
fireplace  in  the  center  of  the  hut,  where  slumbered,  covered 
with  a  piece  of  turf,  the  glimmering  embers  of  the  tire, 
never  extinguished  on  a  Scottish  hearth  until  the  indwellers 
leave  the  mansion  forever. 

"  Feeble  greishogh,"  she  said,  as  she  lighted,  by  the  help  of 
a  match,  a  splinter  of  bog-pine  which  was  to  serve  the  place 
of  a  candle — "  weak  greishogh,  soon  shalt  thou  be  put  out 
forever,  and  may  Heaven  grant  that  the  life  of  Elspat  Mac- 
Tavish  have  no  longer  duration  than  thine  I" 

While  she  spoke,  she  raised  the  blazing  light  towards  the 
bed,  on  which  still  laid  the  prostrate  limbs  of  her  son,  in  a 
posture  that  left  it  doubtful  whether  he  slept  or  swooned. 
As  she  advanced  towards  him,  the  light  flashed  upon  his 
eyes  ;  he  started  up  in  an  instant,  made  a  stride  forward 
with  his  naked  dirk  in  his  hand,  like  a  man  armed  to  meet 
a  mortal  enemy,  and  exclaimed,  '*  Stand  off  !— on  thy  life, 
stand  off ! " 

"  It  is  the  word  and  the  action  of  my  husband,"  answered 
Elspat  ;  "  and  I  know  by  his  speech  and  his  step  the  son  of 
MacTavish  Mhor." 

"  Mother,"  said  Hamish,  relapsing  from  his  tone  of  des- 
perate firmness  into  one  of  melancholy  expostulation — '*oh, 
dearest  mother,  wherefore  have  you  returned  hither  ?" 

"  Ask  why  the  hind  comes  back  to  the  fawn,"  said  Els- 
pat— *^why  the  cat  of  the  mountain  returns  to  her  lodge 
and  her  young.  Know  you,  Hamish,  that  the  heart  of  the 
mother  only  lives  in  the  bosom  of  the  child." 

"  Then  will  it  soon  cease  to  throb,"  said  Hamish, ''  unless 
it  can  beat  within  a  bosom  that  lies  beneath  the  turf. 
Mother,  do  not  blame  me  ;  if  I  weep,  it  is  not  for  myself  but 

for  you,  for  my  sufferings  will  soon  be  over  ;  but  yours 

0,  who  but  Heaven  shall  set  a  boundary  to  them  ! " 

Elspat  shuddered  and  stepped  backward,  but  almost 
instantly  resumed  her  firm  and  upright  position  and  her 
dauntless  bearing. 


438  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  1  thought  thou  wert  a  man  but  even  now,"  she  said, 
'■'and  thou  art  again  a  child.  Hearken  to  me  yet,  and  let  ub 
leave  this  place  together.  Have  I  done  tliee  wrong  or 
injury  ?  if  so,  yet  do  not  avenge  it  so  cruelly.  See,  Elspat 
MacTavish,  who  never  kneeled  before  even  to  a  priest,  falls 
prostrate  before  her  own  son,  and  craves  his  forgiveness." 
And  at  once  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees  before  the  young 
man,  seized  on  his  hand,  and  kissing  it  an  hundred  times, 
repeated  as  often,  in  heartbreaking  accents,  tlie  most  ear- 
nest entreaties  for  forgiveness.  "Pardon," she  exclaimed — 
"pardon,  for  the  sake  of  your  father's  ashes — pardon,  for 
the  sake  of  the  pain  with  which  I  bore  thee,  the  care  with 
which  I  nurtured  thee  !  Hear  it.  Heaven,  and  behold  it, 
earth — the  mother  asks  pardon  of  her  child,  and  she  is 
refused  l"        ^ 

It  was  in  vain  that  Hamish  endeavored  to  stem  this  tide  of 
passion,  by  assuring  his  mother,  with  the  most  solid  assev- 
erations, that  he  forgave  entirely  the  fatal  deceit  which  she 
had  practised  upon  him. 

' '  Empty  words,"  she  said — "  idle  protestations,  which 
are  but  used  to  hide  the  obduracy  of  your  resentment. 
Would  you  have  me  believe  you,  then  leave  tlie  hut  this 
instant, and  retire  from  a  country  which  every  hour  renders 
more  dangerous.  Do  this,  and  I  may  think  you  have  for- 
given me  ;  refuse  it,  and  again  I  call  on  moon  and  stars. 
Heaven  and  earth,  to  witness  the  unrelenting  resentment 
with  which  you  prosecute  your  mother  for  a  fault  which, 
if  it  be  one,  arose  out  of  love  to  you." 

"  Mother,"  said  Hamish,  "on  this  subject  you  move  me 
not.  I  will  fly  before  no  man.  If  Barcaldine  should  send 
every  Gael  that  is  under  his  banner,  here  and  in  this  place  will 
I  abide  them  ;  and  when  you  bid  me  fly,  you  may  as  well  com- 
mand yonder  mountain  to  be  loosened  from  its  foundations. 
Had  I  been  sure  of  they  road  by  which  the  are  coming  hither 
I  had  spared  them  the  pains  of  seeking  me  ;  but  I  might  go 
by  the  mountain,  while  they  perchance  came  by  the  lake. 
Here  I  will  abide  my  fate  ;  nor  is  there  in  Scotland  a  voice 
of  power  enough  to  bid  me  stir  from  hence,  and  be  obeyed.'' 

"  Here,  then,  I  also  stay,"  said  Elspa,t,  rising  up  and  speak- 
ing with  assumed  composure.  "  I  have  seen  my  husband's 
death  ;  my  eyelids  shall  not  grieve  to  look  on  the  fall  of  myi 
son.  But  MacTavish  Mhor  died  as  became  the  brave,  witl' 
his  good  sword  in  his  right  hand  ;  my  son  will  perish  like' 
the  bullock  that  is  driven  to  the  shambles  by  the  Saxor 
owner  who  has  bought  him  for  a  price." 


1) 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  430 

"Mother/*  said  the  unhappy  young  man,  **you  have 
taken  my  life — to  that  you  have  a  right,  for  you  gave  it  ; 
but  touch  not  my  honor.  It  came  to  me  from  a  brave  train 
of  ancestors,  and  should  be  sullied  neither  by  man's  deed 
nor  woman's  speech.  What  I  shall  do,  perhaps  I  myself  yet 
know  not ;  but  tempt  me  no  farther  by  reproachful  words  ; 
you  have  already  made  wounds  more  than  you  can  ever 
heal."  _ 

''  It  is  well,  my  son,'*  said  Elspat,  in  reply,  "  Expect 
neither  farther  complaint  nor  remonstrance  from  me  ;  but 
let  us  be  silent,  and  wi?it  the  chance  which  Heaven  shall 
send  us." 

The  sun  arose  on  the  next  morning,  and  found  the  bothy 
silent  as  the  grave.  The  mother  and  son  had  arisen,  and 
were  engaoed  each  in  their  separate  task — Ilamish  in  pre- 
paring and  cleaning  his  arms  with  the  greatest  accuracy, 
but  with  an  air  of  deep  dejection.  Elspat,  more  restless  in 
her  agony  of  spirit,  employed  herself  in  making  ready  the 
food  which  the  distress  of  yesterday  had  induced  them  both 
to  dispense  with  for  an  unusual  number  of  hours.  She 
placed  it  on  the  board  before  her  son  so  soon  as  it  was  pre- 
pared, with  the  word  of  a  Gaelic  poet — ''Without  daily  food, 
the  husbandman's  plowshare  stands  still  in  the  furrow  ; 
without  daily  food,  the  sword  of  the  warrior  is  too  heavy  for 
his  hand.  Our  bodies  are  our  slaves,  yet  they  must  be  fed 
if  we  would  have  their  service.  So  spake  in  ancient  days 
the  Blind  Bard  to  the  warriors  of  Fion." 

The  young  man  made  no  reply,  but  he  fed  on  what  was 
placed  before  him,  as  if  to  gather  strength  for  the  scene 
which  he  was  to  undergo.  When  his  mother  saw  that  he  had 
eaten  what  sufficed  him,  she  again  filled  the  fatal  quaigh, 
and  proffered  it  as  the  conclusion  of  the  repast.  But  he 
started  aside  with  a  convulsive  gesture,  expressive  at  once 
of  fear  and  abhorrence. 

"  Nay,  my  son,"  she  said,  *'  this  time  surely  thou  hast  no 
cause  of  fear." 

"  Urge  me  not,  mother,"  answered  Hamish  ;  ''  or  put  the 
leprous  toad  into  a  flagon,  and  I  will  drink  ;  but  from  that 
accursed  cup,  and  of  that  mind-destroying  potion,  never 
will  I  taste  more  ! " 

"  At  your  pleasure,  my  son,"  said  Elspat,  haughtily,  and 
began,  \vith  much  apparent  assiduity,  the  various  domestic 
tasks  which  had  been  interrupted  during  the  preceding  day. 
Whatever  was  at  her  heart,  all  anxiety  seemed- banished 
from  her  looks  and  demeanor.     It  was  but  from  an  over- 


440  IV A  VERLE Y  NO  VEL S 

activity  of  bustling  exertion  that  it  might  have  been  per- 
ceived, by  a  close  observer,  that  her  actions  were  spurred 
by  some  internal  cause  of  painful  excitement  ;  and  such  a 
spectator,  too,  might  also  have  observed  how  often  she  broke 
off  the  snatches  of  songs  or  tunes  which  she  hummed,  ap- 
parently without  knowing  what  she  was  doing,  in  order  to 
cast  a  hasty  glance  from  the  door  of  the  hut.  Whatever 
might  be  in  the  mind  of  Hamish,  his  demeanor  was  directly 
the  reverse  of  that  adopted  by  his  mother.  Having  finished 
the  task  of  cleaning  and  preparing  his  arms,  which  he  ar- 
ranged within  the  hut,  he  sat  himself  down  before  the  door 
of  the  bothy,  and  watched  the  opposite  hill,  like  the  fixed 
sentinel  who  expects  the  approach  of  an  enemy.  Noon 
found  him  in  the  same  unchanged  posture,  and  it  was  an 
hour  after  that  period,  when  his  mother,  standing  beside 
him,  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  said,  in  a  tone  in- 
different, as  if  she  had  been  talking  of  some  friendly  visit, 
*'  When  dost  thou  expect  them  ?'* 

"  They  cannot  be  here  till  the  shadows  fall  long  to  the 
eastwardV^  replied  Hamish  ;  **  that  is,  even  supposing  the 
nearest  party,  commanded  by  Sergeant  Allen  Breack  Cam- 
eron, has  been  commanded  hither  by  exjDress  from  Dun- 
barton,  as  it  is  most  likely  they  will.'* 

"  Then  enter  beneath  your  mother's  roof  once  more ; 
partake  the  last  time  of  the  food  which  she  has  prepared  ; 
after  this,  let  them  come,  and  thou  shalt  see  if  thy  mother 
is  an  useless  encumbrance  in  the  day  of  strife.  Thy  hand, 
practised  as  it  is,  cannot  fire  these  arms  so  fast  as  I  can  load, 
them  ;  nay,  if  it  is  necessay,  I  do  not  myself  fear  the  flash  j 
or  the  report,  and  my  aim  has  been  held  fatal." 

*'In  the  name  of  Heaven,  mother,  meddle  not  with  this 
matter  !  "  said  Hamish.  "  Allan  Breack  is  a  wise  man  and 
a  kind  one,  and  comes  of  a  good  stem.  It  may  be,  he  can 
promise  for  our  officers,  that  they  will  touch  me  with  no 
infamous  jjunishment  ;  and  if  they  offer  me  confinement  in 
the  dungeon,  or  death  by  the  musket,  to  that  I  may  notl 
object." 

"Alas,  and  wilt  thou  trust  to  their  word,  my  foolish! 
child  ?  Eemember  the  race  of  Dermid  were  ever  fair  and  i 
false,  and  no  sooner  shall  they  have  gyves  on  thy  hands  than] 
tliey  will  strip  thy  shoulders  for  tlie  scourge." 

"  Save  your  advice,  mother,"  said  Hamish,  sternly  ;  "forj 
me,  my  mind  is  made  up." 

But  though  he  spoke  thus,  to  escape  the  almost  persecut-j 
ing  urgency  of  his  mother,  Hamish  would  have  found  it,  at] 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  441 

that  moment,  impossible  to  say  upon  what  course  of  conduct 
he  had  thus  fixed.  On  one  point  alone  he  was  determined 
— namely  to  abide  his  destiny,  be  [it]  what  it  might,  and 
not  to  add  to  the  breach  of  his  word,  of  wliich  he  had  been 
involuntarily  rendered  guilty,  by  attempting  to  escape  from 
punishment.  This  act  of  self-devotion  he  conceived  to  be 
due  to  his  own  honor  and  that  of  his  countrymen.  Which 
of  his  comrades  would  in  future  be  trusted,  if  he  should  be 
considered  as  liaving  broken  his  word,  and  betrayed  the 
confidence  of  his  officers  ?  and  whom  but  Hamish  Bean 
MacTavish  would  the  Gael  accuse,  for  having  verified  and 
''onfirmed  the  suspicions  which  the  Saxon  general  was 
well  known  to  entertain  against  the  good  faith  of  the  High- 
landers ?  He  was,  therefore,  bent  firmly  to  abide  his  fate. 
But  whether  his  intention  was  to  yield  himself  peaceably 
into  the  hands  of  the  party  who  should  come  to  apprehend 
him,  or  whether  he  purposed,  by  a  show  of  resistance,  to 
provoke  them  to  kill  him  on  the  spot,  was  a  question  which 
he  could  not  himself  have  answered.  His  desire  to  see  Bar- 
caldine,  and  explain  the  cause  of  his  absence  at  the  appointed 
time,  urged  him  to  the  one  course  ;  his  fear  of  the  degrad- 
ing punishment,  and  of  his  mother's  bitter  upbraidings, 
strongly  instigated  the  latter  and  the  more  dangerous  pur- 
pose. He  left  it  to  chance  to  decide  when  the  crisis  should 
arrive  ;  nor  did  he  tarry  long  in  expectation  of  the  catas- 
trophe. 

Evening  approached,  the  gigantic  shadows  of  the  moun- 
tains streamed  in  darkness  towards  the  east,  while  their 
western  peaks  were  still  glowing  with  crimson  and  gold. 
The  road  which  winds  round  Ben  Cruachan  was  fully  visible 
from  the  door  of  the  bothy,  when  a  party  of  five  Highland 
soldiers,  whose  arms  glanced  in  the  sun,  wheeled  suddenly 
into  sight  from  the  most  distant  extremity,  where  the  high- 
way is  hidden  behind  the  mountain.  One  of  the  party  walked 
a  little  before  the  other  four,  who  marched  regularly  and  in 
files,  according  to  the  rules  of  military  discipline.  There 
was  no  dispute,  from  the  firelocks  which  they  carried,  and 
the  plaids  and  bonnets  which  they  wore,  that  they  were  a 
party  of  Hamish's  regiment,  under  a  non-commissioned  of- 
ficer ;  and  there  could  be  as  little  doubt  of  the  purpose  of 
their  appearance  on  the  banks  of  Loch  Awe. 

"  They  come  briskly  forward,"  said  the  widow  of  Mac- 
Tavish  Mhor  ;  "  I  wonder  how  fast  or  how  slow  some  of 
them  will  return  again  !  But  they  are  five,  and  it  is  too 
much  odds  for  a  fair  field.     Step  Isack  within  the  hut,  my 


442  WAVERLEF  NOVELS 

son,  and  shoot  from  the  loophole  beside  the  door.  Two  you 
may  bring  down  ere  they  quit  the  highroad  for  the  footpath  ; 
there  will  remain  but  three,  and  your  father,  with  my  aid, 
has  often  stood  against  that  number." 

Hamish  Bean  took  the  gun  which  his  mother  offered,  but 
did  not  stir  from  the  door  of  the  hut.  He  was  soon  visible 
to  the  party  on  the  highroad,  as  was  evident  from  their  in- 
creasing their  pace  to  a  run  ;  the  files,  however,  still  keep- 
ing together  like  coupled  greyhounds,  and  advajicing  with 
great  rapidity.  In  far  less  time  than  would  have  been  ac- 
complished by  men  less  accustomed  to  the  mountains,  they 
had  left  the  highroad,  traversed  the  narrow  path,  and  ap- 
proached within  pistol-shot  of  the  bothy,  at  the  door  ot 
which  stood  Hamish,  fixed  like  a  statue  of  stone,  with  his 
firelock  in  his  hand  ;  while  his  mother,  placed  behind  him, 
and  almost  driven  to  frenzy  by  the  violence  of  her  passions, 
reproached  him  in  the  strongest  terms  which  despair  could 
invent  for  his  want  of  resolution  and  faintness  of  heart.  Her 
words  increased  the  bitter  gall  whicli  was  arising  in  the 
young  man's  own  spirit,  as  he  observed  the  unfriendly  speed 
with  which  his  late  comrades  were  eagerly  making  towards 
him,  like  hounds  towards  the  stag  when  he  is  at  bay.  The 
untamed  and  angry  passions  which  he  inherited  from  father 
and  mother  were  awakened  by  the  supposed  hostility  of  those 
who  pursued  him  ;  and  the  restraint  under  which  these  pas- 
sions had  been  hitherto  held  by  his  sober  judgment  began 
gradually  to  give  way. 

The  sergeant  now  called  to  him,  ''Hamish  Bean  Mac- 
Tavish,  lay  down  your  arms  and  surrender." 

"Do  you  stand,  Allan  Breack  Cameron,  and  command 
your  men  to  stand,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  us  all." 

"  Halt,  men,"  said  the  sergeant,  but  continuing  himself 
to  advance.  "'  Hamish,  think  what  you  do,  and  give  u_ 
your  gun  ;  you  may  spill  blood,  but  you  cannot  escape  pun- 
ishment." 

"  The  scourge — the  scourge,  my  son — beware  the  scourge  ! 
whispered  his  mother. 

"Take  heed,  Allan  Breack,"  said  Hamish.  "I  would 
not  hurt  you  willingly,  but  I  will  not  be  taken  unless  you 
can  assure  me  against  the  Saxon  lash." 

"  Fool  !  "  answered  Cameron,  "you  know  I  cannot.  Yet 
I  will  do  all  I  can.  I  will  say  I  met  you  on  your  return,  and 
the  punishment  will  be  light ;  but  give  up  your  musket. 
Come  on,  men." 

Instantly  he  rushed  forward,  extending  his  arm  as  if  tc; 


h 


1 


THE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  443 

push  aside  the  young  man's  leveled  firelock.  Elspat  ex- 
ilainied,  "  Now,  spare  not  your  father's  blood  to  defend  your 
father's  hearth  ! "  Hamish  fired  liis  piece,  and  Cameron 
dropped  dead.  All  these  things  happened,  it  might  be  said, 
in  the  same  moment  of  time.  The  soldiers  rushed  forward 
and  seized  Hamish,  who,  seeming  petrified  with  what  he 
had  done,  offered  not  the  least  resistance.  Not  so  his 
mother,  who,  seeing  the  men  about  to  put  handcuffs  on  her 
son,  threw  herself  on  the  soldiers  with  such  fury  that  it 
required  two  of  them  to  hold  her,  while  the  rest  secured  the 
prisoner. 

•'  Are  you  not  an  accursed  creature,"  said  one  of  thp  men 
to  Hamish,  "  to  have  slain  your  best  friend,  who  was  con- 
triving, during  the  whole  march,  how  he  could  find  some 
way  of  getting  you  off  without  punishment  for  your  deser- 
tion ?  " 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  mother  ?"  said  Hamish,  turning  him- 
self as  much  towards  her  as  his  bonds  would  permit  ;  but  the 
mother  heard  nothing,  and  saw  nothing.  She  had  fainted 
on  the  floor  of  her  hut.  Without  waiting  for  her  recovery, 
the  party  almost  immediately  began  their  homeward  march 
towards'Dunbarton,  leading' along  with  them  their  prisoner. 
They  thought  it  necessary ,"however,  to  stay  for  a  little  space 
at  tiie  village  of  Dalmally,  from  which  they  despatched  a 
party  of  the  inhabitants  to  bring  away  the  body  of  their  un- 
fortunate leader,  while  they  themselves  repaired  to  a  magis- 
trate to  state  what  had  happened,  and  require  his  instructions 
as  to  the  farther  course  to  be  pursued.  The  crime  being  of 
a  military  character,  they  were  instructed  to  march  the 
prisoner  to  Dunbarton  without  delay. 

The  swoon  of  the  mother  of  Hamish  lasted  for  a  length  of 
time,  the  longer  perhaps  that  her  constitution,  strong  as  it 
was,  must  have  been  much  exhausted  by  her  previous  agita- 
tion of  three  days'  endurance.  She  was  roused  from  her 
stupor  at  length  by  female  voices,  which  cried  the  coronach, 
or  lament  for  the  dead,  with  clapping  of  hands  and  loud 
exclamations  ;  while  the  melancholy  note  of  a  lament,  appro- 
priate to  the  clan  Cameron,  played  on  the  bagpipe,  was  heard 
from  time  to  time. 

Elspat  started  up  like  one  awakened  from  the  dead,  and 
without  any  accurate  recollection  of  the  scene  which  had 
passed  before  her  eyes.  There  were  females  in  the  hut,  who 
were  swathing  the  corpse  in  its  bloody  plaid  before  carrying 
it  from  the  fatal  spot.  "  Women,"  she  said,  starting  up  and 
interrupting  their  chant  at  once  and  their  labor — "  Tell  me. 


iU  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

women,  why  sing  you  the  dirge  of  MacDhonuil  Dhu  in  the 
house  of  MacTavish  Mhor  ?" 

"  She-wolf,  be  silent  with  thine  ill-omened  yell,"  answered 
one  of  the  females,  a  relation  of  the  deceased,  "and  let  us 
do  our  duty  to  our  beloved  kinsman  !  There  shall  never  be 
coronach  cried  or  dirge  played  for  thee  or  thy  bloody  wolf- 
burd.  The  ravens  shall  eat  him  from  the  gibbet,  and  the 
foxes  and  wildcats  shall  tear  thy  corpse  upon  the  hill.  Cursed 
be  he  that  would  sain  your  bones,  or  add  a  stone  to  your 
cairn  ! " 

"  Daughter  of  a  foolish  mother,"  answered  the  widow  of 
MacTavish  Mhor,  "  know  that  the  gibbet  with  which  you 
threaten  us  is  no  portion  of  our  inheritance.  For  thirty 
years  the  '  black  tree  of  the  law,^  whose  apples  are  dead  men's 
bodies,  hungered  after  the  beloved  husband  of  my  heart ;  but 
he  died  like  a  brave  man,  with  the  sword  in  his  hand,  and 
defrauded  it  of  its  hopes  and  its  fruit." 

"  So  shall  it  not  be  with  thy  child,  bloody  sorceress," 
replied  the  female  mourner,  whose  passions  were  as  violent 
as  those  of  Elspat  herself:  "the  ravens  shall  tear  his  fair 
hair  to  line  their  nests,  before  the  sun  sinks  beneath  the 
Treshornish  islands." 

These  words  recalled  to  Elspat's  mind  the  whole  history 
of  the  last  three  dreadful  days.  At  first,  she  stood  fixed  as 
if  the  extremity  of  distress  had  converted  her  into  stone; 
but  in  a  minute  the  pride  and  violence  of  her  temper,  out- 
braved as  she  thought  herself  on  her  own  threshold,  enabled 
her  to  reply — "  Yes,  insulting  hag,  my  fair-haired  boy  may 
die,  but  it  will  not  be  with  a  white  hand  :  it  has  been  dyed 
in  the  blood  of  his  enemy,  in  the  best  blood  of  a  Cameron — 
remember  that — ■ ;  and  when  you  lay  your  dead  in  his  grave, 
let  it  be  his  best  epitaph,  that  he  was  killed  by  Ilamish  Bean 
for  essaying  to  lay  hands  on  the  son  of  MacTavish  Mhor  on 
his  own  threshold.  Farewell ;  the  shame  of  defeat,  loss,  and 
slaughter  remain  with  the  clan  that  has  endured  it ! " 

The  relative  of  the  slaughtered  Cameron  raised  her  voice  I 
in  reply  ;  but  Elspat,  disdaining  to  continue  the  objurgation, 
or  perhaps  feeling  her  grief  likely  to  overmaster  her  power- 
of  expressing  her  resentment,  had  left  the  hut,  and  was  walk- 
ing forth  in  the  bright  moonshine. 

The    females   who    were    arranging   the    corpse    of    the- 
slaughtered  man  hurried  from    their   melancholy  labor  tc 
look  after  her  tall  figure  as  it  glided  away  among  the  clifPs. 
"I  am  glad  she  is  gone,"  said  one  of  the  younger  persons 
who  assisted.     "  I  would  as  soon  dress  a  corpse  when  the 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  445 

great  Fiend  himself — God  sain  us  ! — stood  visibly  before  us, 
iis  when  Elspat  of  the  Tree  is  amongst  us.  Ay — ay,  even 
overmuch  intercourse  hath  she  had  with  the  Enemy  in  her 
day/' 

"  Silly  woman/'  answered  the  female  who  had  maintained 
the  dialogue  with  the  departed  Elspat,  "  thinkest  thou  that 
there  is  a  worse  fiend  on  earth,  or  beneath  it,  than  the  pride 
;ind  fury  of  an  offended  woman,  like  yonder  bloody-minded 
hag  ?  Know  that  blood  has  been  as  familiar  to  her  as  the 
dew  to  the  mountain-daisy.  Many  and  many  a  brave  man 
has  she  caused  to  breathe  their  last  for  little  wrong  they  had 
done  to  her  or  hers.  But  her  hough-sinews  are  cut,  now 
that  her  wolf-burd  must,  like  a  murderer  as  he  is,  make  a 
murderer's  end." 

Whilst  the  women  thus  discoursed  together,  as  they  watched 
the  corpse  of  Allan  Breack  Cameron,  the  unhappy  cause  of 
his  death  pursued  her  lonely  way  across  the  mountain. 
While  she  remained  within  sight  of  the  bothy,  she  put  a 
strong  constraint  on  herself,  that  by  no  alteration  of  pace  or 
gesture  she  might  afford  to  her  enemies  the  triumph  of 
calculating  the  excess  of  her  mental  agitation,  nay,  despair. 
She  stalked,  therefore,  with  a  slow  rather  than  a  swift  step, 
and,  holding  herself  upright,  seemed  at  once  to  endure  with 
Tirmness  that  woe  which  was  passed  and  bid  defiance  to  that 
which  was  about  to  come.  But  when  she  was  beyond  the 
sight  of  those  who  remained  in  the  hut,  she  could  no  longer 
suppress  the  extremity  of  her  agitation.  Drawing  her 
mantle  wildly  round  her,  she  stopped  at  the  first  knoll,  and 
climbing  to  its  summit,  extended  her  arms  up  to  the  bright 
moon,  as  if  accusing  Heaven  and  earth  for  her  misfortunes, 
and  uttered  scream  on  scream,  like  those  of  an  eagle  whose 
nest  has  been  plundered  of  her  brood.  Awhile  she  vented  her 
grief  in  these  inarticulate  cries,  then  rushed  on  her  way  with 
a  hasty  and  unequal  step,  in  the  vain  hope  of  overtaking  the 
party  which  was  conveying  her  son  a  prisoner  to  Dunbarton, 
But  her  strength,  superhuman  as  it  seemed,  failed  her  in  the 
trial,  nor  was  it  possible  for  her,  with  her  utmost  efforts,  to 
accomplish  her  purpose. 

Yet  she  pressed  onward,  with  all  the  speed  which  her 
exhausted  frame  could  exert.  When  food  became  indis- 
pensable, she  entered  the  first  cottage,  "  Give  me  to  eat/' 
she  said  ;  "  I  am  the  widow  of  MacTavish  Mhor,  I  am  the 
mother  of  Hamish  MacTavish  Bean — give  me  to  eat,  that  I 
may  once  more  see  my  fair-haired  son,"  Her  demand  was 
never  refused,  though  granted  in  many  cases  with  a  kind 


446  WA  VEhl K r  NO VELS 

of  struggle  between  compassion  and  aversion  in  some  of  those 
to  whom  she  aj^jjlied,  which  was  in  others  qualified  by  fear. 
The  sliare  she  had  had  in  occasioning  the  death  of  Allan 
Breack  Cameron,  which  must  probabl}^  involve  that  of  her 
own  son,  was  not  accurate^  known  ;  but,  from  a  knowledge 
of  her  violent  passions  and  former  habits  of  life,  no  one 
doubted  that  in  one  way  or  other  she  had  been  the  cause  of 
the  catastrophe  ;  and  Hamish  Bean  was  considered,  in  the 
slaughter  which  he  had  committed,  rather  as  the  instrument 
than  as  the  accomplice  of  his  mother. 

This  general  opinion  of  his  countrymen  was  of  little 
service  to  the  unfortunate  Hamish.  As  his  captain.  Green 
Colin,  understood  the  manners  and  habits  of  his  country,  he 
had  no  difficulty  in  collecting  from  Hamish  the  particulars 
accompanying  his  supposed  desertion,  and  the  subsequent 
death  of  the  non-commissioned  officer.  He  felt  the  utmost 
compassion  for  a  youth  who  had  thus  fallen  a  victim  to  the 
extravagant  and  fatal  fondness  of  a  parent.  But  he  had  no 
excuse  to  plead  which  could  rescue  his  unhappy  recruit 
from  the  doom  which  military  discipline  and  the  award  of  a 
court-martial  denounced  against  him  for  the  crime  he  had 
committed. 

No  time  had  been  lost  in  their  proceedings,  and  as  little 
was  interposed  betwixt  sentence  and  execution.      General 

had  determined  to  make  a  severe  example  of  the  first 

deserter  who  should  fall  into  his  power,  and  here  was  one 
who  had  defended  himself  by  main  force,  and  slain  in  the 
affray  the  officer  sent  to  take  him  into  custody.  A  fitter 
subject  for  punishment  could  not  have  occurred,  and  Hamish 
was  sentenced  to  immediate  execution.  All  which  the  inter- 
ference of  his  captain  in  his  favor  could  procure  was  that  he 
should  die  a  soldier's  death  ;  for  there  had  been  a  purpose 
of  executing  him  upon  the  gibbet. 

The  worthy  clergyman  of  Glenorquhy  chanced  to  be  at 
Dunbarton,  in  attendance  upon  some  church-courts,  at  the 
time  of  this  catastrophe.  He  visited  his  unfortunate  parish- 
ioner in  his  dungeon,  found  him  ignorant  indeed,  but  not 
obstinate,  and  the  answers  which  he  received  from  him, 
when  conversing  on  religious  topics,  were  such  as  induced 
him  doubly  to  regret  that  a  mind  naturally  pure  and  noble 
should  have  remained  unhappily  so  wild  and  uncultivated. 

When  he  ascertained  the  real  character  and  disposition  ol 
the  young  man,  the  worthy  pastor  made  deep  and  painful 
reflections  on  his  own  shyness  and  timidity,  whicb,  arising 
out  of  the  evil  fame  that  attached  to  the  lineage  of  Hamish, 


THE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  447 

had  restrained  him  from  charitably  endeavoring  to  bring 
this  strayed  sheep  within  the  great  fold.  While  the  good 
minister  blamed  his  cowardice  in  times  past,  which  had 
deterred  him  from  risking  his  person,  to  save,  perhaps,  an 
immortal  soul,  he  resolved  no  longer  to  be  governed  by  such 
timid  counsels,  but  to  endeavor,  by  application  to  his  offi- 
cers, to  obtain  a  reprieve,  at  least,  if  not  a  pardon,  for  the 
criminal,  in  whom  he  felt  so  unusually  interested,  at  once 
from  his  docility  of  temper  and  his  generosity  of  disposition. 

Accordingly  the  divine  sought  out  Captain  Campbell  at 
the  barracks  within  the  garrison.  There  was  a  gloomy  mel- 
ancholy on  the  brow  of  Green  Colin,  which  was  not  lessened, 
but  increased,  when  the  clergyman  stated  his  name,  quality, 
and  errand.  '^  You  cannot  tell  me  better  of  the  young  man 
than  I  am  disposed  to  believe,"  answered  the  Highland 
officer  ;  "you  cannot  ask  me  to  do  more  in  his  behalf  than  I 
am  of  myself  inclined,  and  have  already  endeavored  to  do. 

But  it  is  all  in  vain.     General  is  half  a  Lowlander, 

half  an  Englishman.  He  has  no  idea  of  the  high  and 
enthusiastic  character  which  in  these  mountains  often 
brings  exalted  virtues  in  contact  with  great  crimes,  which, 
however,  are  less  offenses  of  the  heart  than  errors  of  the 
understanding.  I  have  gone  so  far  as  to  tell  him,  that  in 
this  young  man  he  was  putting  to  death  the  best  and  the 
bravest  of  my  company,  where  all,  or  almost  all,  are  good 
and  brave.  I  explained  to  him  by  what  strange  delusion 
the  culprit's  apparent  desertion  was  occasioned,  and  how 
little  his  heart  was  accessory  to  the  crime  which  his  hand 
unhappily  committed.  His  answer  was,  '  These  are  High- 
land visions.  Captain  Campbell,  as  unsatisfactory  and  vain 
as  those  of  the  second-sight.  An  act  of  gross  desertion 
may,  in  any  case,  be  palliated  under  the  plea  of  intoxica- 
tion ;  the  murder  of  an  officer  may  be  as  easily  colored  over 
with  that  of  temporory  insanity.  The  example  must  be 
made,  and  if  it  has  fallen  on  a  man  otherwise  a  good  recruit, 
it  will  have  the  greater  effect.'  Such  being  the  general's 
unalterable  purpose,"  continued  Captain  Campbell,  with  a 
sigh,  "be  it  your  care,  reverend  sir,  that  your  penitent  pre- 
pare by  break  of  day  to-morrow  for  that  great  change  which 
we  shall  all  one  day  be  subjected  to." 

"  And  for  which,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  may  God  preptire 
us  all,  as  I  in  my  duty  will  not  be  wanting  to  this  poor 
youth." 

Next  morning,  as  the  very  earliest  beams  of  sunrise  sa- 
luted the  gray  towers  which  crown  the  summit  of  that  singu- 


448  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

lar  and  tremendous  rock,  the  soldiers  of  the  new  Highland 
regiment  appeared  on  the  parade,  within  the  Castle  of  Dun- 
barton,  and  having  fallen  into  order,  began  to  move  down- 
ward by  steep  staircases  and  narrow  passages  towards  the 
external  barrief-gate,  which  is  at  the  very  bottom  of  the 
rock.  The  wild  wailings  of  the  pibroch  were  heard  at  times, 
interchanged  with  the  drums  and  fifes,  which  beat  the 
*'Dead  March." 

The  unhappy  criminal's  fate  did  not,  at  first,  excite  that 
general  sympathy  in  the  regiment  which  would  probably 
have  arisen  had  he  been  executed  for  desertion  alone.  The 
slaughter  of  the  unfortunate  Allan  Breack  had  given  a  dif- 
ferent color  to  Hamish's  offense  ;  for  the  deceased  was  much 
beloved,  and  besides  belonged  to  a  numerous  and  powerful 
clan,  of  whom  there  were  many  in  the  ranks.  The  unfor- 
tunate criminal,  on  the  contrary,  was  little  known  to,  and 
scarcely  connected  with,  any  of  his  regimental  companions. 
His  father  had  been,  indeed,  distinguished  for  his  strength 
and  manhood  ;  but  he  was  of  a  broken  clan,  as  those  names 
were  called  who  had  no  chief  to  lead  them  to  battle. 

It  would  have  been  almost  impossible  in  another  case  to 
have  turned  out  of  the  ranks  of  the  regiment  the  party 
necessary  for  execution  of  the  sentence  ;  but  the  six  indi- 
viduals selected  for  that  purpose  were  friends  of  the  de- 
ceased, descended,  like  him,  from  the  race  of  MacDhonuil 
Dhu  ;  and  while  they  prepared  for  the  dismal  task  which 
their  duty  imposed,  it  was  not  without  a  stern  feeling  of 
gratified  revenge.  The  leading  comiDany  of  the  regiment 
began  now  to  defile  from  the  barrier-gate,  and  was  followed 
by  the  others,  each  successively  moving  and  halting  accord- 
ing to  the  orders  of  the  adjutant,  so  as  to  form  three  sides 
of  an  oblong  square,  with  the  ranks  faced  inwards.  The 
fourth  or  blank  side  of  the  square  was  closed  up  by  the 
huge  and  lofty  precipice  on  which  the  castle  rises.  About 
the  center  of  the  procession,  bare-headed,  disarmed,  and 
with  his  hands  bound,  came  the  unfortunate  victim  of  mili- 
tary law.  He  was  deadly  pale,  but  his  step  was  firm  and 
his  eye  as  bright  as  ever.  The  clergyman  walked  by  his 
side  ;  the  coffin  which  was  to  receive  his  mortal  remains  was 
borne  before  him.  The  looks  of  his  comrades  were  still,, 
composed,  and  solemn.  They  felt  for  the  youth,  whos 
handsome  form  and  manly  yet  submissive  deportment  had, 
as  soon  as  he  was  distinctly  visi])le  to  them,  softened  the 
hearts  of  many,  even  of  some  who  had  been  actuated  b 
vindictive  feelings. 


THE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  449 

The  coffin  destined  for  the  yet  living  body  of  Hamish  Bean 
tvas  placed  at  the  bottom  of  the  hollow  square,  about  two 
yards  distant  from  the  foot  of  the  precipice,  which  rises  in 
that  place  as  steep  as  a  stone  wall  to  the  height  of  three  or 
lOur  hundred  feet.  Thitlier  the  prisoner  was  also  led,  the 
clergyman  still  continuing  by  his  side,  pouring  forth  exhor- 
tations of  courage  and  consolation,  to  which  the  youth  ap- 
peared to  listen  with  respectful  devotion.  With  slow,  and, 
it  seemed,  almost  unwilling,  steps  the  firing  party  entered 
the  square,  and  were  drawn  up  facing  the  prisoner,  about  ten 
yards  distant.  The  clergyman  was  now  about  to  retire. 
"  Think,  my  son,"  he  said,  "  on  what  I  have  told  ycu,  and 
let  your  hope  be  rested  on  the  anchor  which  I  have  given. 
You  will  then  exchange  a  short  and  miserable  existence  here 
for  a  life  in  which  you  will  experience  neither  sorrow  nor 
pain.  Is  there  aught  else  which  you  can  entrust  to  me  to 
execute  for  you  ?  " 

The  youth  looked  at  his  sleeve-buttons.  They  were  of 
gold,  booty  perhaps  which  his  father  had  taken  from  some 
English  officer  during  the  civil  wars.  The  clergyman  dis- 
engaged them  from  his  sleeves. 

"  My  mother  !  "  he  said  with  some  effort — **give  them  to 
my  poor  mother  !  See  her,  good  father,  and  teach  her  what 
slie  should  think  of  all  this.  Tell  her  Hamish  ^^ean  is  more 
glad  to  die  than  ever  he  was  to  rest  after  the  longest  day's 
hunting.     Farewell,  sir — farewell!" 

The  good  man  could  scarce  retire  from  the  fatal  spot.  An 
officer  afforded  him  the  support  of  his  arm.  At  his  last 
look  towards  Hamish,  he  beheld  him  alive  and  kneeling  on 
the  coffin  ;  the  few  that  were  around  him  had  all  withdrawn. 
The  fatal  word  was  given,  the  rock  rung  sharp  to  the  sound 
of  the  discharge,  and  Hamish,  falling  forward  with  a  groan, 
died,  it  may  be  supposed,  without  almost  a  sense  of  the 
passing  agony. 

Ten  or  twelve  of  his  own  company  then  came  forward, 
and  laid  with  solemn  reverence  the  remains  of  their  com- 
rade in  the  coffin,  while  the  "  Dead  March  "  was  again  struck 
up,  and  the  several  companies,  marching  in  single  files, 
passed  the  coffin  one  by  one,  in  order  that  all  might  receive 
from  the  awful  spectacle  the  warning  which  it  was  peculiarly 
intended  to  afford.  The  regiment  was  then  marched  off  the 
ground,  and  re-ascended  the  ancient  cliff,  their  music,  as 
usual  on  such  occasions,  striking  lively  strains,  as  if  sorrow, 
or  even  deep  thought,  should  as  short  a  while  as  possible  be 
the  tenant  of  the  soldier's  bosom. 


i30  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

At  the  same  time  the  small  party  which  we  before  men- 
tioned bore  the  bier  of  the  ill-fated  Hamish  to  his  humble 
grave  in  a  corner  of  the  churchyard  of  Dunbarton,  usually 
assigned  to  criminals.  Here,  among  the  dust  of  the  guilty, 
lies  a  youth  whose  name,  had  he  survived  the  ruin  of  the 
fatal  events  by  which  he  was  hurried  into  crime,  might  have 
adorned  the  annals  of  the  brave. 

The  minister  of  Glenorquhy  left  Dunbarton  immediately 
after  he  had  witnessed  the  last  scene  of  this  melancholy 
catastrophe.  His  reason  acquiesced  in  the  justice  of  the 
sentence,  which  required  blood  for  blood,  and  he  acknowl- 
edged that  the  vindictive  character  of  his  countrymen  re- 
quired to  be  powerfully  restrained  by  the  strong  curb  of 
social  law.  But  still  he  mourned  over  the  individual  vic- 
tim. Who  may  arraign  the  bolt  of  Heaven  when  it  bursts 
among  the  sons  of  the  forest ;  yet  Avho  can  refrain  from 
mourning  when  it  selects  for  the  object  of  its  blighting  aim 
the  fair  stem  of  a  young  oak,  that  promised  to  be  the  pride 
of  the  dell  in  which  it  flourished  ?  Musing  on  these  melan- 
choly events,  noon  found  him  engaged  in  the  mountain 
passes,  by  which  he  was  to  return  to  his  still  distant  home. 

Confident  in  his  knowledge  of  the  country,  the  clergyman 
had  left  the  main  road,  to  seek  one  of  those  shorter  paths 
which  are  only  used  by  pedestrians,  or  by  men,  like  the  min- 
ister, mounted  on  the  small,  but  sure-footed,  hardy,  and 
sagacious  horses  of  the  country.  The  place  which  he  now 
traversed  was  in  itself  gloomy  and  desolate,  and  tradition 
had  added  to  it  the  terror  of  superstition,  by  affirming  it  was 
haunted  by  an  evil  spirit,  termed  Cloght-dearg,  that  is, 
Eedmantle,  who  at  all  times,  but  especially  at  noon  and  at 
midnight,  traversed  the  glen,  in  emnity  both  to  man  and  the 
inferior  creation,  did  such  evil  as  her  power  was  permitted 
to  extend  to,  and  afflicted  with  ghostly  terrors  those  whom 
she  had  not  license  otherwise  to  hurt. 

The  minister  of  Glenorquhy  had  set  his  face  in  opposi- 
tion to  many  of  these  superstitions,  which  he  justly  thought 
were  derived  from  the  dark  ages  of  Popery,  jjerhaps  even 
from  those  of  paganism,  and  unfit  to  be  entertained  or  be- 
lieved by  the  Christians  of  an  enlightened  age.  Some  of  his 
more  attached  parishioners  considered  him  as  too  rash  in 
opposing  the  ancient  faith  of  their  fathers  ;  and  though  they 
honored  the  moral  intrepidity  of  their  pastor,  they  could  not 
avoid  entertaining  and  expressing  fears  that  he  would  one 
day  fall  a  victim  to  his  temerity^  and  be  torn  to  pieces  in 
the  glen  of  the  Cloght-dearg,  or  some  of  those  other  haunted 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  451 

wilds  -vvliich  he  appeared  rather  to  have  a  pride  and  pleasure 
in  traversing  alone,  on  the  days  and  liours  when  the  wicked 
spirits  were  supposed  to  have  especial  power  over  man  and 
beast. 

These  legends  came  across  the  mind  of  the  clergyman  ;  and, 
solitary  as  he  was,  a  melancholy  smile  shaded  his  cheek,  as 
he  thought  of  the  inconsistency  of  human  nature,  and  re- 
flected how  many  brave  men,  whom  the  yell  of  the  pibroch 
would  have  sent  headlong  against  fixed  bayonets,  as  the  wild 
bull  rushes  on  his  enemy,  might  have  yet  feared  to  encounter 
those  visionary  terrors,  which  he  himself,  a  man  of  peace, 
and  in  ordinary  perils  no  way  remarkable  for  the  firmness  of 
his  nerves,  was  now  risking  without  hesitation. 

As  he  looked  around  the  scene  of  desolation,  he  could  not 
but  acknowledge,  in  his  own  mind,  that  it  was  not  ill-choseu 
for  the  haunt  of  those  spirits  which  are  said  to  delight  in 
solitude  and  desolation.  The  glen  was  so  steep  and  narrow, 
that  there  was  but  just  room  for  the  meridian  sun  to  dart  a 
few  scattered  rays  upon  the  gloomy  and  precarious  stream 
which  stole  through  its  recesses,  for  the  most  part  in  silence, 
but  occasionally  murmuring  sullenly  against  the  rocks  and 
large  stones,  which  seemed  determined  to  bar  its  further 
progress.  In  winter,  or  in  the  rainy  season,  this  small  stream 
was  a  foaming  torrent  of  the  most  formidable  magnitude, 
and  it  was  at  such  periods  that  it  had  torn  open  and  laid 
bare  the  broad-faced  and  huge  fragments  of  rock  which,  at 
the  season  of  which  we  speak,  hid  its  course  from  the  eye, 
and  seemed  disposed  totally  to  interrupt  its  course.  "Un- 
doubtedly," thought  the  clergyman,  "  this  mountain  rivulet, 
suddenly  swelled  by  a  water-spout  or  thunderstorm,  has 
often  been  the  cause  of  those  accidents  which,  happening  in 
the  glen  called  by  her  name,  have  been  ascribed  to  the  agency 
of  the  Cloght-dearg." 

Just  as  this  idea  crossed  his  mind,  he  heard  a  female  voice 
exclaim,  in  a  wild  and  thrilling  accent,  "  Michael  Tyrie — 
Michael  Tyrie  I  "  He  looked  round  in  astonishment,  and  not 
without  some  fear.  It  seemed  for  an  instant  as  if  the  evil 
being,  whose  existence  he  had  disowned,  was  about  to  appear 
for  the  punishment  of  his  incredulity.  This  alarm  did  not 
hold  him  more  than  an  instant,  nor  did  it  prevent  his  reply- 
ing in  a  firm  voice,  "Who  calls,  and  where  are  you  ?  " 

"  One  who  journeys  in  wretchedness,  between  life  and 
death,"  answered  the  voice  ;  and  the  speaker,  a  tall  female, 
appeared  from  among  the  fragments  of  rocks  which  had  co*i« 
cealed  her  from  view. 


ib2  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

As  she  approached  more  closely,  her  mantle  of  bright  tar- 
tan, in  which  the  red  color  much  predominated,  her  stature, 
the  long  stride  with  which  she  advanced,  and  the  writhen 
features  and  wild  eyes  which  were  visible  from  under  her 
curch,  would  have  made  her  no  inadequate  representative  of 
the  spirit  which  gave  name  to  the  valley.  But  Mr,  Tyrie 
instantly  knew  her  as  the  Woman  of  the  Tree,  the  widow  of 
MacTavish  Mhor,  the  now  childless  mother  of  Hamish  Bean. 
I  am  not  sure  whether  the  minister  would  not  have  endured 
the  visitation  of  the  Cloght-dearg  herself,  rather  than  the 
shock  of  Elspat's  presence,  considering  her  crime  and  her 
misery.  He  drew  up  his  horse  instinctively,  and  stood  en- 
deavoring to  collect  his  ideas,  while  a  few  paces  brought  her 
up  to  his  horse's  head. 

"  Michael  Tyrie,"  said  she,  **  the  foolish  women  of  the 
clachan  hold  thee  as  a  god  ;  be  one  to  me,  and  say  that  my 
son  lives.  Say  this,  and  I  too  will  be  of  thy  worship  :  I  will 
bend  my  knees  on  the  seventh  day  in  thy  house  of  worship, 
and  thy  God  shall  be  my  God." 

"  Unhappy  woman,"  replied  the  clergyman,  "  man  forms 
not  pactions  with  his  Maker  as  with  a  creature  of  clay  like 
himself.  Thinkest  thou  to  chaffer  with  Him  who  formed 
the  earth  and  spread  out  the  heavens,  or  that  thou  canst 
offer  aught  of  homage  or  devotion  that  can  be  worth  accept- 
ance in  His  eyes  ?  He  hath  asked  obedience,  not  sacrifice 
patience  under  the  trials  with  which  he  afflicts  us,  instead  of 
vain  bribes,  such  as  man  offers  to  his  changeful  brother  of 
clay,  that  he  may  be  moved  from  his  purpose." 

"  Be  silent,  priest !  "  answered  the  desperate  woman 
"  speak  not  to  me  the  words  of  thy  white  book.  Elspat'i 
kindred  were  of  those  who  crossed  themselves,  and  knelt 
when  the  saering  bell  was  rung  ;  and  she  knows  that  atone- 
ment can  be  made  on  the  altar  for  deeds  done  in  the  field. 
Elspat  had  once  flocks  and  herds,  goats  upon  the  cliffs,  and 
cattle  in  the  strath.  She  wore  gold  around  her  neck  and  on 
her  hair — thick  twists  as  those  worn  by  the  heroes  of  old. 
All  these  would  she  have  resigned  to  the  priest — all  these  ; 
and  if  he  wished  for  the  ornaments  of  a  gentle  lady,  or  thei 
sporran  of  a  high  chief,  though  they  had  been  great  as] 
MacCalhm  Mhor  himself,  MacTavish  Mhor  would  have  pro- 
cured them  if  Elspat  had  promised  them,  Elspat  is  now! 
poor,  and  has  nothing  to  give.  But  the  Black  Abbot  of  j 
Inchaffray  would  have  bidden  her  scourge  her  shoulders  andl 
macerate  her  feet  by  pilgrimage,  and  he  would  have  granted' 
his  pardon  to  her  when  he  saw  that  her  blood  had  flowed, 


THE  HIGHLAND   WIDOW  453 

and  that  her  flesh  had  been  torn.  These  were  the  priests 
who  had  indeed  power  even  with  the  most  powerful  ;  they 
threatened  the  great  men  of  the  earth  with  the  word  of  their 
mouth,  the  sentence  of  their  book,  the  blaze  of  their  torch, 
the  sound  of  their  sacring  bell.  The  mighty  bent  to  their 
will,  and  unloosed  at  the  word  of  the  priests  those  whom 
they  had  bound  in  their  wrath,  and  set  at  liberty,  unharmed, 
him  whom  they  had  sentenced  to  death,  and  for  whose  blood 
they  had  thirsted.  These  were  a  powerful  race,  and  might 
well  ask  the  poor  to  kneel,  since  their  power  could  humble 
the  proud.  But  you  !  against  whom  are  ye  strong,  but 
against  women  who  have  been  guilty  of  folly  and  m^n  who 
never  wore  sword  ?  The  priests  of  old  were  like  the  winter 
torrent  which  fills  this  hollow  valley,  and  rolls  these  massive 
rocks  against  each  other  as  easily  as  the  boy  plays  with  the 
ball  which  he  casts  before  him.  But  you  !  you  do  but  re- 
semble the  summer-stricken  stream,  which  is  turned  aside  by 
the  rushes,  and  stemmed  by  a  bush  of  sedges.  Woe  worth 
you,  for  there  is  no  help  in  you  !  " 

The  clergyman  was  at  no  loss  to  conceive  that  Elspat  had 
lost  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  without  gaining  any  other, 
and  that  she  still  retained  a  vague  and  confused  idea  of  the 
composition  with  the  priesthood,  by  confession,  alms,  and 
penance,  and  of  their  extensive  power,  which,  according  to 
her  notion,  was  adequate,  if  duly  propitiated,  even  to  effect- 
ing her  son's  safety. 

Compassionating  her  situation,  and  allowing  for  her  errors 
and  ignorance,  he  answered  her  with  mildness.  "  Alas,  un- 
happy woman  !  Would  to  God  I  could  convince  thee  as 
easily  where  thou  onghtest  to  seek,  and  art  sure  to  find,  con- 
solation as  I  can  assure  you  with  a  single  word  that,  were 
Rome  and  all  her  priesthood  once  more  in  the  plentitude  of 
their  power,  they  could  not,  for  largesse  or  penance,  afford 
to  thy  misery  an  atom  of  aid  or  comfort.  Elspat  MacTavish, 
I  grieve  to  tell  you  the  news.'' 

"I  know  them  without  thy  speech,**  said  the  unhappy 
woman.     "  My  son  is  doomed  to  die.** 

*' Elspat,"  resumed  the  clergyman,  "he  was  doomed,  and 
the  sentence  has  been  executed.** 

The  hapless  mother  threw  her  eyes  up  to  heaven,  and 
uttered  a  shriek  so  unlike  the  voice  of  a  human  being,  that 
the  eagle  which  soared  in  middle  air  answered  it  as  she  would 
have  done  the  call  of  her  mate. 

"It  is  impossible!"  she  exclaimed — "it  is  impossible! 
Men  do  not  condemn  and  kill  on  the  same  day  !     Thou  art 


154  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

deceiving  me.  The  people  call  thee  holy,  hast  thou  the 
heart  to  tell  a  mother  she  has  murdered  her  only  child  ?" 

"  God  knows,"  said  the  priest,  the  tears  falling  fast  from 
his  eyes,  "that,  were  it  in  my  power,  1  would  gladly  tell 
better  tidings.  But  these  which  I  bear  are  as  certain  as 
they  are  fatal.  My  own  ears  heard  the  death-shot,  my  own 
eyes  beheld  thy  son's  death — thy  sou's  funeral.  My  tongue 
bears  witness  to  what  my  ears  lieard  and  my  eyes  saw." 

The  wretched  female  clasped  her  hands  close  together,  and 
held  them  ujo  tov/ards  heaven  like  a  sibyl  announcing  war 
and  desolation,  while,  in  imjDotent  yet  frightful  rage,  she 
poured  forth  a  tide  of  the  deepest  imprecations.  "  Base 
Saxon  churl  !  "  she  exclaimed — "  vile,  hypocritical  juggler  ! 
May  the  eyes  that  looked  tamely  on  the  death  of  my  fair- 
haired  boy  be  melted  in  their  sockets  with  ceaseless  tears, 
shed  for  those  that  are  nearest  and  most  dear  to  thee  !  May 
the  ears  that  heard  his  death-knell  be  dead  hereafter  k)  all 
other  sounds  save  the  screech  of  the  raven  and  the  hissing 
of  the  adder  !  May  the  tongue  that  tells  me  of  his  death 
and  of  my  own  crime  be  withered  in  thy  mouth  ;  or  better, 
when  thou  wouldst  pray  with  thy  people,  may  the  Evil  One 
guide  it,  and  give  voice  to  blasphemies  instead  of  blessings, 
until  men  shall  fly  in  terror  from  thy  presence,  and  the 
thunder  of  heaven  be  launched  against  thy  head,  and  stop 
forever  thy  cursing  and  accursed  voice  !  Begone,  with  this 
malison  !  Elspat  will  never,  never  again  bestow  so  many 
words  upon  living  man." 

She  kept  her  word  :  from  that  day  the  world  was  to  her 
a  wilderness,  in  which  she  remained  without  thought,  care, 
or  interest,  absorbed  in  her  own  grief,  indifferent  to  every- 
thing else. 

With  her  mode  of  life,  or  rather  of  existence,  the  reader 
is  already  as  far  acquainted  as  I  have  the  power  of  making 
him.  Of  her  death,  I  can  tell  him  nothing.  It  is  supposed 
to  have  happened  several  years  after  she  had  attracted  the 
attention  of  my  excellent  friend  Mrs.  Bethune  Baliol.  Her 
benevolence,  which  was  never  satisfied  with  dropping  a  sen- 
timental tear  when  there  was  rootm  for  the  operation  of 
efi'ective  charity,  induced  her  to  make  various  attempts  to 
alleviate  the  condition  of  this  most  wretched  woman.  But 
all  her  exertions  could  only  render  Elspat's  means  of  sub- 
sistence less  precarious — a  circumstance  which,  though 
generally  interesting  even  to  the  most  wretched  outcasts, 
seemed  to  her  a  matter  of  total  indifference.  Every  attempt 
to  place  any  person  in  her  hut  to  take  charge  of  her  mis- 


THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW  465 

carried,  through  the  extreme  resentment  with  which  she 
regarded  all  intrusion  on  her  solitude,  or  by  the  timidity  of 
those  who  had  been  pitched  upon  to  be  inmates  with  the 
terrible  Woman  of  the  Tree.  At  length,  when  Elspat 
became  totally  unable  (in  appearance  at  least)  to  turn  her- 
self on  the  wretched  settle  which  served  her  for  a  couch, 
the  humanity  of  Mr.  Tyrie's  successor  sent  two  women  to 
attend  upon  the  last  moments  of  the  solitary,  which  could 
not,  it  was  judged,  be  far  distant,  and  to  avert  the  possibility 
that  she  might  perish  for  want  of  assistance  or  food  before 
she  sunk  under  the  effects  of  extreme  age  or  mortal  malady. 

It  was  on  a  November  evening  that  the  two  women  ap- 
pointed for  this  melancholy  purpose  arrived  at  the  misera- 
ble cottage  which  we  have  already  described.  Its  wretclied 
inmate  lay  stretched  ujDon  the  bed,  and  seemed  almost  al- 
ready a  lifeless  corpse,  save  for  the  wandering  of  the  fierce 
dark  eyes,  which  rolled  in  their  sockets  in  a  manner  terrible 
to  look  upon,  and  seemed  to  watch  with  surprise  and  indig- 
nation the  motions  of  the  strangers,  as  persons  whose  presence 
was  alike  unexpected  and  unwelcome.  They  were  frightened 
at  her  looks  ;  but,  assured  in  each  other's  comj)any,  they  kin- 
dled a  fire,  lighted  a  candle,  prepared  food,  and  made  other 
arrangements  for  the  discharge  of  the  duty  assigned  them.    > 

The  assistants  agreed  they  should  watch  the  bedside  of 
the  sick  person  by  turns  ;  but,  about  midnight,  overcome 
by  fatigue,  for  they  had  walked  far  that  morning,  both  of 
them  fell  fast  asleep.  When  they  awoke,  which  was  not 
till  after  the  interval  of  some  hours,  the  hut  was  empty  and 
the  patient  gone.  They  rose  in  terror,  and  went  to  the 
door  of  the  cottage,  which  was  latched  as  it  had  been  at 
night.  They  looked  out  into  the  darkness,  and  called  upon 
their  charge  by  her  name.  The  night-raven  screamed  from 
the  old  oak-tree,  the  fox  howled  on  the  hill,  the  hoarse  water- 
fall replied  with  its  echoes  ;  but  there  was  no  human  answer. 
The  terrified  women  did  not  dare  to  make  further  search  till 
morning  should  appear  ;  for  the  sudden  disappearance  of  a 
crature  so  frail  as  Elspat,  together  with  the  wild  tenor  of 
her  history,  intimidated  them  from  stirring  from  the  hut. 
They  remained,  therefore,  in  dreadful  terror,  sometimea 
thinking  they  heard  her  voice  without,  and  at  other  times, 
that  sounds  of  a  different  description  were  mingled  witt 
the  mournful  sigh  of  the  night-breeze,  or  the  dash  of  the 
cascade.  Sometimes,  too,  the  latch  rattled,  as  if  some  fraii 
and  impotent  hand  were  in  vain  attempting  to  lift  it,  and  ever 
and  anon  they  expected  the  entrance  of  their  terrible  patient. 


456  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

animated  by  supernatural  strength,  and  in  the  company, 
perhaps,  of  some  being  more  dreadful  than  herself.  Morn- 
ing came  at  length.  They  souglit  brake,  rock,  and  thicket 
in  vain.  Two  hours  after  daylight,  the  minister  himself 
appeared,  and,  on  the  report  of  the  watchers,  caused  the 
country  to  be  alarmed,  and  a  general  and  exact  search  to 
be  made  through  the  whole  neighborhood  of  the  cottage  and 
the  oak-tree.  But  it  was  all  in  vain.  Elspat  MacTavish 
was  never  found,  whether  dead  or  alive ;  nor  could  there 
ever  be  traced  the  slightest  circumstance  to  indicate  her 
fate. 

The  neighborhood  was  divided  concerning  the  cause  ot 
her  disappearance.  The  credulous  thought  that  the  evil 
spirit,  under  whose  influence  she  seemed  to  have  acted,  had 
carried  her  away  in  the  body  ;  and  there  are  many  who  are 
still  unwilling,  at  untimely  hours,  to  pass  the  oak-tree, 
beneath  which,  as  they  allege,  she  may  still  be  seen  seated 
according  to  her  wont.  Others  less  superstitious  supposed 
that,  had  it  been  possible  to  search  the  gulf  of  the  "  corrie 
dhu,"  the  profound  deeps  of  the  lake,  or  the  whelming  ed- 
dies of  the  river,  the  remains  of  Elspat  MacTavish  might 
have  been  discovered  ;  as  nothing  was  more  natural,  con- 
sidering her  state  of  body  and  mind,  than  that  she  should 
have  fallen  in  by  accident,  or  precipitated  herself  intentionally 
Into  one  or  other  of  those  places  of  sure  destruction.  The 
clergyman  entertained  an  opinion  of  his  own.  He  thought 
that,  impatient  of  the  watch  which  was  placed  over  her,  this 
unhappy  woman's  instinct  had  tauglit  her,  as  it  directs  vari- 
ous domestic  animals,  to  withdraw  herself  from  the  sight  of 
her  own  race,  that  the  death-struggle  might  take  place  in 
some  secret  den,  where,  in  all  probability,  her  mortal  relics 
would  never  meet  the  eyes  of  mortal.  This  species  of  in- 
stinctive feeling  seemed  to  him  of  a  tenor  with  the  Avhole 
course  of  her  unhappy  life,  and  most  likely  to  influence  hei 
Then  it  drew  to  a  conclusion. 


APPENDIX  TO  INTRODUCTION 

TO  THE 

CHRONICLES  OP  THE  CANONGATB 

ii  has  been  suggested  to  the  Author,  that  it  might  be  well  to  reprint  he'"©  a 
detailed  account  of  the  public  dinner  alluded  to  in  the  Introduction,  as  given 
in  the  newspapers  of  the  time;  and  the  reader  is  accordingly  presen'ed  with 
the  following  extract  from  the  Edinburgh  Weekly  Journal  for  Wednesday 
28th  February,  1827. 

THEATRICAL  FUND  DINNER 

Before  proceeding  with  our  acoount  of  this  very  interesting  festival— for  so 
it  may  be  termed— it  is  our  duty  to  present  to  our  readers  the  following  letter, 
which  we  have  received  from  the  president. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  EDINBURGH  WEEKLY  JOURNAL 

Sir— I  am  extremely  sorry  I  have  not  leisure  to  correct  the  copy  you  sent  rae 
of  what  I  am  stated  to  have  said  at  the  Dinner  for  the  Theatrical  Fund.  I  am 
no  orator,  and  upon  such  occasions  as  are  alluded  to  I  say  as  well  as  I  can 
what  the  time  requires. 

However,  I  hope  your  reporter  has  been  more  accurate  in  other  instances 
than  in  mine.  I  have  corrected  one  passage,  in  which  I  am  made  to  speak 
with  great  impropriety  and  petulance  respecting  the  opinions  of  those  who 
do  not  approve  of  dramatic  entertainments.  I  have  restored  what  I  said, 
which  was  meant  to  be  respectful,  as  every  objection  founded  in  conscience 
is,  in  my  opinion,  entitled  to  be  so  treated.  Other  errors  I  left  as  I  found 
them,  it  being  of  little  consequence  whether  I  spoke  sense  or  nonsense,  in 
what  was  merely  intended  for  the  purpose  of  the  hour. 
I  am,  sir. 

Your  obedient  servant, 

Edniburgh,  Monday.  WALTER  SCOTT. 

The  Theatrical  Fund  Dinner,  which  took  place  on  Friday  in  the  Assembly 
Rooms,  was  conducted  with  admirable  spirit.  The  Chairman,  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  among  his  other  great  qualifications,  is  well  fitted  to  enliven  such  an 
entertainment.  His  manners  are  extremely  easy,  and  his  style  of  speaking 
simple  and  natuial,  yet  full  of  vivacity  and  point ;  and  he  has  the  art,  if  it  be 
arts  of  relaxing  into  a  certain  homeliness  of  manner,  without  losing  one 
particle  of  his  dignity.  He  thus  takes  off  some  of  that  solemn  formality  which 
belongs  to  such  meetings,  and,  by  his  easy  and  graceful  familiawty,  imparts 
to  them  somewhat  of  the  pleasing  character  of  a  private  entertainment.  Near 
Sir  W.  Scott  sat  the  Earl  of  Fife,  Lord  Meadowbank,  Sir  John  Hope  of 
Pinkie,  Bart.,  Admiral  Adam,  Baron  Clerk  Rattray,  Gilbert  Innes,  Esq.,  James 
Walker,  Esq.,  Robert  Dundas,'Esq..  Alexander  Smith,  Esq..  etc. 

The  cloth  being  removed,  "Non  Nobis  Domine"  was  sung  by  Messrs.  Thome, 
Swift,  Collier,  and  Hartley,  after  which  the  following  toasts  were  given  from 
the  chair : — 

"  The  King  "—all  the  honors. 

"  The  Duke  of  Clarence  and  the  Royal  Family." 

The  Chairman,  in  proposing  the  next  toast,   which  he  wished  to  be  drunk 

in  solemn  silence,  said  it  was  to  the  memory  of  a  regretted  prince  whom  we 

had  lately  lost.     Every    individual  would    at  once    conjecture  to    whom  he 

alluded.    He  had  no  intention  to  dwell  on  his  military  merits.    They  had  been 

457 


458  APPENDIX  TO  INTRODUCTION 

told  in  the  senate ;  they  had  been  repeated  in  the  cottage ;  and  whenever  a 
Boldier  was  tlie  theme,  his  name  was  never  far  distant.  But  it  was  chiefly  in  con 
nection  with  the  business  of  this  meeting,  which  his  late  Royal  Highness  had 
condescended  in  a  particular  manner  to  patronize,  that  they  were  called  on  to 
drink  his  health.  To  that  charity  he  had  often  sacrificed  his  time,  and  had 
given  up  the  little  leisure  which  he  had  from  important  business.  He  was 
always  ready  to  att.^nd  on  3very  occasion  of  this  kind,  and  it  was  in  that  view 
that  he  proposed  to  drmk  to  the  memory  of  his  late  Royal  Highness  the  Duke 
of  York.— Drunk  in  solemn  silence. 

The  Chairman  then  requested  that  gentlemen  would  fill  a  bumper  as  full 
as  it  would  hold,  while  he  would  say  only  a  few  words.  He  was  in  the  habit 
of  hearing  speeches,  and  he  knew  the  feeling  with  which  long  ones  were 
regarded.  He  was  sure  that  it  was  perfectly  unnecessary  for  him  to  enter 
into  any  vindication  of  the  dramatic  art,  which  they  had  come  here  to  sup- 
port. This,  however,  he  considered  to  be  the  proper  time  and  proper  occa- 
sion for  him  to  say  a  few  words  on  that  love  of  representation  wiliich  was  an 
innate  feeling  in  human  nature.  It  was  the  first  amusement  that  the  child 
had  ;  it  grew  greater  as  he  grew  up  ;  and,  even  in  the  decline  of  life,  nothing 
amused  so  much  as  when  a  common  tale  is  told  ■\\  ith  appropriate  personifica- 
tion. The  first  thing  a  child  does  is  to  ape  his  schoolmaster  by  floggmg  a  chair. 
The  assuming  a  character  ourselves,  or  the  seeing  others  assume  an  imaginary 
character,  is  an  enjoyment  natural  to  humanity.  It  was  implanted  in  our  very 
nature  to  take  pleasure  from  such  representations,  at  proper  times  and  on 
pi-oper  occasions.  In  all  ages  the  theatrical  art  had  kept  pace  with  the  improve- 
ment of  mankind,  and  with  the  progress  of  letters  and  the  fine  arts.  As  man  has 
advanced  from  the  ruder  stages  of  society,  the  love  of  dramatic  representations 
has  increased,  and  all  works  of  this  nature  have  been  improved  in  character  and 
in  structure.  The3'  had  only  to  turn  their  eyes  to  the  history  of  ancient  Greece, 
although  he  did  not  pretend  to  very  deeply  versed  in  its  ancient  drama.  Its 
first  tragic  poet  commanded  a  body  of  troops  at  the  battle  of  Marathon. 
Sophocles  and  Euripides  were  men  of  rank  in  Athens,  when  Athens  was  in  its 
highest  renown.  They  shook  Athens  with  their  discourses,  as  their  theatrical 
works  shook  the  theatre  itself.  If  they  turned  to  France  in  the  time  of  Louis  Ji 
ihe  Fourteenth,  that  era  which  is  the  classical  history  of  that  country,  they 
would  find  that  it  was  referred  to  by  all  Frenchmen  as  the  golden  age* of  the 
drama  there.  And  also  in  England,  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  drama 
ivas  at  its  highest  pitch  when  the  nation  began  to  mingle  deeply  and  wisely  in 
the  general  politics  of  Europe,  not  only  not  receiving  laws  from  others,  but 
giving  laws  to  the  world,  and  vindicating  the  rights  of  mankind.  (Cheers.) 
There  have  been  various  times  when  the  dramatic  art  subsequently  fell  into 
oisrepute.  Its  professors  have  been  stigmatized  :  and  laws  have  been  passed 
against  t'hem,  less  dishonorable  to  them  than  to  the  statesmen  by  whom  they 
'vere  propos3d,  and  to  the  legislators  by  whom  they  were  adopted.  What  were 
the  times  in  which  these  laws  were  passed  ?  Was  it  not  when  virtue  was  seldtan 
inculcated  as  a  moral  duty  that  we  were  requiied  to  relinquish  the  most  raticnal 
of  all  our  aniusenu'iits,  when  the  clergy  were  enjoined  celibacy,  and  when  the  laity 
were  denied  the  riicht  to  read  their  Bibles  ?  He  thought  that  it  must  have  been 
^roni  a  not  inn  of  jifnance  that  they  erected  the  drama  into  an  ideal  place  of 
profaneness,  and  spoke  of  the  theater  as  of  the  tents  of  sin.  He  did  not  mean 
to  dispute  that  there  were  many  excellent  persons  who  thought  differently 
from  him,  and  he  disclaimed  the  slightest  idea  of  charging  them  with  bigotry 
or  hypocrisy  on  that  account.  He  gave  them  full  credit  for  their  tender  con- 
sciences in  making  these  objections,  although  they  did  not  appear  relevant  to 
him.  But  to  these  persons,  being,  as  he  believed  them,  men  of  worth  and  piety, 
he  was  sure  the  purpose  of  this  meeting  would  furnish  some  apology  for  an 
error,  if  there  be  any,  in  the  opinions  of  those  who  attend.    They  would  ajn'rove 


the  gift, although  they  might  differ  in  other  points.  Sucli  might  not  apjU'ovi 
going  to  the  theater,"  but  at  least  could  not  deny  that  they  might  give  a\va.\ 
from  their  superfluity  what  was  required  for  the  relief  of  the  sicK,  the  support 
of  the  aged,  and  the  comfort  of  the  afflicted.  These  were  duties  enjoined  by 
our  religion  itself.    (Loud  cheers.^ 

The  performers  are  in  a  particular  manner  entitled  to  the  support  or  regard, 
when  in  old  age  or  distress,  of  those  who  had  partaken  of  the  amusements  of 
those  places  which  they  render  an  ornament  to  society.  Their  art  was  of  a 
pecidiarly  delicate  and  precarious  nature.  They  had  to  serve  a  long  apprentice- 
ship. It  was  very  long  before  even  the  first-rate  geniuses  could  acquire  the 
mechanical  knowledge  of  the  stage  business.  They  must  langiu'sh  long  in 
obscurity  before  they  can  avail  themselves  of  their  natural  talents  ;  and  after 
that  they  have  but  a"  short  space  of  time,  during  which  they  are  fortunate  if 
they  can  provide  the  means  of  comfort  in  the  decline  of  life.  That  comes  late, 
and  lasts  but  a  short  time ;  after  which  they  are  left  dependent.  Their  limbs 
fail,  their  teeth  are  loosened,  their  voice  is  lost,  and  they  are  left,  after  giving 


TO  THE  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE         450 

happiness  to  others,  in  a  most  disconsolate  state.  The  public  were  liberal  and 
generous  to  those  deserving  their  protection.  It  was  a  sad  thing  to  be  de- 
pendent on  the  favor,  or,  he  might  .say,  in  plain  terms,  on  the  caprice,  of  the 
public  ;  and  this  more  particularly  for  a  class  of  persons  of  whom  extreme 
prudence  is  not  the  character.  There  might  be  instances  of  opportunities  being 
neglected  ;  but  let  each  gentleman  tax  himself,  and  consider  the  opportunities 
they  had  neglected,  and  the  sums  of  money  they  had  wasted  ;  let  every  gentle- 
man look  into  his  own  bosom,  and  say  whether  these  were  circumstances  which 
would  soften  his  own  feelings,  were  he  to  be  plunged  into  distress.  He  put  it  to 
every  generous  bosom— to  every  better  feeling— to  say  what  consolation  was  it 
to  old  age  to  be  told  that  you  might  have  made  provision  at  a  time  which  had 
been  neglected  (loud  cheers)  ;  and  to  find  it  objected,  that  if  you  had  pleased 
you  might  have  been  wealthy.  He  had  hitherto  been  speaking  of  what,  in 
theatrical  language,  was  called  "stars,"  but  they  were  sometimes  falling  ones. 
There  were  another  class  of  sufferers  naturally  and  necessarily  connected  with 
the  theater,  without  whom  it  was  impossible  to  go  on.  The  sailors  have  a  say- 
ing, "Every  man  cannot  be  a  boatswain."  If  there  must  be  a  great  actor  to 
act' Hamlet,  there  must  also  be  people  to  act  Laertes,  the  King,  Rosencrantz, 
and  Guildenstern,  otherwise  a  drama  cannot  go  on.  If  even  Garrick  himself 
were  to  rise  from  the  dead,  he  could  not  act  Hamlet  alone.  There  must  be 
generals,  colonels,  commanding-officers,  subalterns.  But  what  are  the  private 
soldiers  to  do  ?  Many  have  mistaken  their  own  talents,  and  have  been  driven  in 
early  youth  to  try  the  stage,  to  which  they  were  not  competent.  Be  would 
know  what  to  say  to  the  indifferent  poet  and  to  the  bad  artist.  He  would  say 
that  it  was  foolish,  and  he  would  recommend  to  the  poet  to  become  a  scribe,  and 
the  artist  to  paint  sign-posts.  (Loud  laughter.)  But  you  could  not  send  the 
player  adrift,  for  if  he  cannot  play  Hamlet,  he  must  play  Guildenstern.  Where 
there  are  many  laborers,  wages  must  be  low,  and  no  man  in  such  a  situation  can 
decently  support  a  wife  and  family  and  save  something  off  his  income  for  old 
age.  What  is  this  man  to  do  in  latter  life  ?  Are  you  to  cast  him  off  like  an  old 
hinge  or  a  piece  of  useless  machinery  which  has  done  its  work?  To  a  person 
who  had  contributed  to  our  amusement  this  would  be  unkind,  ungrateful,  and 
unchristian.  His  wants  are  not  of  his  own  making,  but  arise  from  the  natural 
sources  of  sickness  and  old  age.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  there  is  one  class  of 
sufferers  to  whom  no  imprudence  can  be  ascribed,  except  on  first  entering  on 
the  profession.  After  putting  his  hand  to  the  dramatic  plow  he  cannot  draw 
back  ;  but  must  continue  at  it,  and  toil,  till  death  release  him  from  want,  or 
charity,  by  its  milder  influence,  steps  in  to  render  that  want  more  tolerable.  He 
had  little  more  to  say,  except  that  he  sincerely  hoped  that  the  collection  to-day, 
from  the  number  of  respectable  gentlemen  present,  would  meet  the  views  enter- 
tained by  the  patrons.  He  hoped  it  would  do  so.  They  should  not  be  disheart- 
ened. Though  they  could  not  do  a  great  deal,  they  might  do  something.  They 
had  this  consolation,  that  everything  they  parted  with  from  their  superfluity 
would  do  some  good.  They  would  sleep  the  better  themselves  when  they  have 
been  the  means  of  giving  sleep  to  others.  It  was  ungrateful  and  unkind  that 
those  who  had  sacrificed  their  youth  to  our  amusement  should  not  receive  the 
reward  due  to  them,  but  should  be  reduced  to  hard  fare  in  their  old  age.  We 
cannot  think  of  poor  Falstaff  going  to  bed  without  his  cup  of  sack,  or  Macbeth 
fed  on  bones  as  marrowless  as  those  of  Banquo.  (Loud  cheers  and  laughter.) 
As  he  believed  that  they  were  all  as  fond  of  the  dramatic  art  as  he  was  in  his 
younger  days,  he  would  propose  that  they  should  drink  "  The  Theatrical  Fund," 
with  three  times  three. 

Mr.  Mackay  rose,  on  behalf  of  his  brethren,  to  return  their  thanks  for  the 
toast  just  drunk.  Many  of  the  gentlemen  present,  he  said,  were  perhaps  not 
fully  acquainted  with  the  nature  and  intention  of  the  institution,  and  it  might 
not  be  amiss  to  enter  into  some  explanations  on  the  subject.  With  whomso- 
ever the  idea  of  a  Theatrical  Fund  might  have  originated  (and  it  had  been 
disputed  by  the  surviving  relatives  of  two  or  three  individuals,)  certain  it  was 
that  the  first  legally  constituted  Theatrical  Fund  owned  its  origin  to  one  of  the 
brightest  ornaments  of  the  profession,  the  late  David  Garrick.  That  eminent 
actor  conceived  that,  by  a  weekly  subscription  in  the  theater,  a  fund  might 
be  raised  among  its  members,  from  which  a  portion  might  be  given  to  those 
of  his  less  fortunate  brethren,  and  thus  an  opportunity  would  be  offered  for 
prudence  to  provide  what  fortune  had  denied — a  comfortable  provision  for 
the  winter  of  life.  With  the  welfare  of  his  profession  constantly  at  heart,  the 
zeal  with  which  he  labored  to  uphold  its  respectability,  and  to  impress  upon 
the  minds  of  his  brethren  not  only  the  necessity,  but  the  blessing,  of  independ- 
ence, the  fund  became  his  peculiar  care.  He  drew  up  a  form  of  laws  for  its 
government,  procured,  at  his  own  expense,  the  passing  of  an  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment for  its  confirmation,  bequeathed  to  it  a  handsome  legacy,  and  thus  be- 
came the  father  of  the  Drury  Lane  Fund.  So  constant  was  his"  attachment  to 
this  infant  establishment,  that  he  chose  to  grace  the  close  of  the  brightest 


460  APPENDIX  TO  INTROBUCTIOS 

theatrical  life  on  record  by  the  last  display  of  his  transcendent  talent  on  the 
occasion  of  a  benefit  for  this  child  of  his  adoption,  whicli  ever  since  has  ^one 
by  the  name  of  the  Garrick  Fund.  In  imitation  of  his  noble  example,  funds  had 
been  established  in  several  provincial  theatres  in  England  ;  but  it  remained  for 
Mrs.  Henry  Siddons  and  Mr.  William  Murray  to  become  the  founders  of  the  first 
Theatrical  Fund  in  Scotland.  (Cheers.)  This  Fund  commenced  under  the 
luiist  favorable  auspices  :  it  was  liberally  supported  by  the  management,  and 
hi^^hly  patronized  by  the  public.  Notwithstanding,  it  fell  short  in  the  accom- 
plislu'iient  of  its  intentions.  What  those  intentions  were,  he  (Mr.  Mackay)  need 
not  recapitulate  ;  but  tliey  failed,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  confess  that  a  want 
of  energy  on  the  part  of  the  performers  was  the  probable  cause.  A  new  set  of 
rules  and  regulations  were  lately  drawn  up,  submitted  to  and  approved  of  at  a 
general  meeting  of  the  members  of  the  theater  ;  and  accordingly  the  fund  was 
remodelled  on  the  1st  of  January  last.  And  here  he  thought  he  did  but  echo  the 
feelings  of  his  brethren  by  publicly  acknowledging  the  obligations  they  were 
under  to  the  management  for  the  aid  given,  and  the  warm  interest  they  had  all 
along  taken  in  the  welfare  of  the  fund.  (Cheers. )  The  nature  and  object  of  the 
profession  had  been  so  well  treated  of  by  the  president,  that  he  would  say  noth- 
ing ;  but  of  the  numerous  offsprings  of  science  and  genius  that  court  precarious 
fame,  the  actor  boasts  the  slenderest  claim  of  all :  the  sport  of  fortune,  the 
creatures  of  fashion,  and  the  victims  of  caprice,  they  are  seen,  heard,  and  admired, 
but  to  be  forgot.  They  leave  no  trace,  no  memorial  of  their  existence  ;  they 
"come  like  shadows,  so  depart."  (Cheers.)  Yet,  humble  though  their  pre- 
tentions be,  there  was  no  profession,  trade,  or  calling  where  such  a  combination 
of  requisites,  mental  and  bodily,  were  indispensable.  In  all  others  the  principal] 
may  practise  after  he  has  been  visited  by  the  afflicting  hand  of  Providence— i 
some  by  the  loss  of  limb,  some  of  voice,  and  many,  when  the  faculty  of  thai 
mind  is  on  the  wane,  may  be  assisted  by  dutiful  children  or  devoted  servants. 
Not  so  the  actor  ;  he  must  retain  all  he  ever  did  possess,  or  sink  dejected  to  a 
mournfulhome.  (Applause.)  Yet,  while  they  are  toiling  forephemeral  theatrici 
fame,  how  very  few  ever  possess  the  means  of  hoarding  in  their  youth  thatl 
which  would  give  bread  in  old  age  !  But  now  a  brighter  prospect  dawned  upon 
them,  and  to  the  success  of  this  their  infant  establishment  they  looked  with 
hope,  as  to  a  comfortable  and  peaceful  home  in  their  declining  years.  He  con- 
cluded by  tendering  to  the  meeting,  in  the  name  of  his  brethren  and  sisters, 
their  unfeigned  thanks  for  their  liberal  support  and  begged  to  propose  the 
health  of  the  patrons  of  the  Ediburgh  Theatrical  Fund.    (Cheers). 

Lord  Meadowbank  said,  that  by  desire  of  his  hon.  friend  in  the  chair,  and  of 
his  noble  friend  at  his  right  hand,  he  begged  leave  to  return  thanks  for  the  honor;  ae 
which  had  been  conferred  on  the  patrons  of  this  excellent  institution.  He  could 
answer  for  himself— he  could  answer  for  them  all— that  they  were  deeply  im 
pressed  with  the  meritorious  objects  which  it  has  in  view,  and  of  their  anxious 
wish  to  promote  its  interests.  For  himself,  he  hoped  he  might  be  permitted  to 
say  that  he  was  rather  surprised  at  finding  his  own  name  as  one  of  the  patrons, 
associated  with  so  many  individuals  of  high  rank  and  powerful  influence.  But 
it  was  an  excuse  for  those  who  had  placed  him  in  a  situation  so  honorable  and  so 
distinguished,  that  when  this  charity  was  instituted  he  happened  to  hold  a  high 
and  responsible  station  under  the  crown,  when  he  might  have  been  of  use  in  as- 
sisting and  promoting  its  objects.  His  lordship  much  feared  that  he  could  have 
little  expectation,  situated  as  he  now  was,  of  doing  either  ;  but  he  could  confi- 
dently assert  that  few  things  would  give  him  greater  gratification  than  being  able 
to  contribute  to  its  prosperity  and  support ;  and,  indeed,  when  one  recollects  th( 
pleasure  which  at  all  periods"  of  life  he  has  received  from  the  exhibitions  of  the 
stage,  and  the  exertions  of  the  meritorious  individuals  for  whose  aid  this  fund  has 
been  established,  he  must  be  divested  both  of  gratitude  and  feehng  who  would 
not  give  his  best  endeavors  to  promote  its  welfare.  And  now,  that  he  might  ii 
some  measure  repay  the  gratification  which  had  been  afforded  himself,  he  woulc 
beg  leave  to  propose  a  toast,  the  health  of  one  of  the  patrons,  a  great  and  disj 
tingui.shed  individual,  whose  name  must  always  stand  by  itself,  and  which,  ii 
an  assembly  such  as  this,  or  in  any  other  assembly  of  Scotsmen,  can  never  be  re 
ceived,  (not,  he  would  say,  with  ordinary  feelings  of  pleasure  or  of  delight),  bu 
with  those  of  rapture  and  "enthusiasm.  In  doing  so,  he  felt  thathestood  in  a  some 
what  new  situation.  Whoever  had  been  called  upon  to  propose  the  health  of  hi! 
hon.  friend  to  whom  he  nllmlod,  some  time  ago,  would  have  found  himself  en 
abled,  from  the  mystery  in  wliich  certain  matters  were  involved,  to  gratify  him 
self  and  his  auditors  by  allusions  which  found  a  responding  chord  in  their  owi 
fselings.  and  to  deal  in  the  language— the  sincere  language,  of  panegyric,  withou 
intruding  on  the  modesty  of  the  great  individual  to  whom  he  referred.  But  1 
was  no  longpr  possible,  consistently  with  the  respect  to  one's  auditors,  to  uS' 
upon  this  subject  terms  either  of  mystification  or  of  obscure  or  indirect  allusion 
The  clouds  have  been  dispelled,  the  darkness  visible  has  been  cleared  away,  ani 
the  Great  Unknown— the  minstrel  of  our  native  land— the  mighty  magician  whJ 


TO  THE  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE         401 

das  rolled  back  the  current  of  time,  and  conjured  up  before  our  living  senses  the 
men  and  the  manners  of  days  which  have  long  passed  away,  stands  revealed  to 
the  hearts  and  the  eyes  of  his  affectionate  and  admiring  countrymen.  If  he  him- 
self were  capable  of  imagining  all  that  belonged  to  this  mighty  subject,  were  he 
even  able  to  give  utterance  to  all  that  as  a  friend,  as  a  man,  and  as  a  Scotsman 
he  must  feel  regarding  it,  yet  knowing,  as  he  well  did,  that  this  illustrious  in- 
dividual was  not  more  distinguished  for  his  towering  talents  than  for  those  feel- 
ings which  rendered  such  allusions  ungrateful  to  himself,  however  sparingly  in- 
troduced, he  would,  on  that  account,  still  refrain  from  doing  that  which  would 
otherwise  be  no  less  pleasing  to  him  than  to  his  audience.  But  this  his  lordship 
hoped  he  would  be  allowed  to  say  (his  auditors  would  not  pardon  him  were  he  to 
say  less),  we  owe  to  him,  as  a  people,  a  large  and  heavy  debt  of  gratitude.  He  it 
is  who  has  opened  to  foreigners  the  grand  and  characterisic  beauties  of  our 
country.  It  is  to  him  that  we  owe  that  our  gallant  ancestors  and  the  struggles 
of  our  illustrious  patriots,  who  fought  and  bled  in  order  to  obtain  and  secure  that 
independence  and  that  liberty  we  now  enjoy,  have  obtained  a  fame  no  longer 
confined  to  the  boundaries  of  a  remote  and  comparatively  obscure  nation,  and 
who  has  called  down  upon  their  struggles  for  glory  and  freedom  the  admiration 
of  foreign  countries.  He  it  is  who  has  conferred  anew  reputation  on  our  national 
character,  and  bestowed  on  Scotland  an  imperishable  name,  were  it  only  oy  her 
having  given  birth  to  himself.     (Loud  and  rapturous  applause.) 

Sir  Walter  Scott  certainly  did  not  think  that,  in  coming  here  to-day,  he  would 
have  the  task  of  acknowledging,  before  300  gentlemen,  a  secret  which,  consider- 
ing that  it  was  communicated  to  more  than  twenty  people,  had  been  remarkably 
well  kept.  He  was  now  before  the  bar  of  his  country,  and  might  be  understood 
to  be  on  trial  before  Lord  Meadowbank  as  an  offender  ;  yet  he  was  sure  that 
every  impartial  jury  would  bring  in  a  verdict  of  Not  Proven.  He  did  not  now 
think  it  necessary  to  enter  into  the  reasons  of  his  long  silence.  Perhaps  caprice 
might  have  a  considerable  share  in  it.  He  had  now  to  say,  however,  that  the 
merits  of  these  works,  if  they  had  any,  and  their  faults,  were  entirely  imputable 
to  himself.  (Long  and  loud  cheering.)  He  was  afraid  to  think  on  what  he  had 
done.  "  Look  on't  again  I  dare  not."  He  had  thus  far  unbosomed  himself,  and 
he  knew  that  it  would  be  reported  to  the  public.  He  meant,  then,  seriously  to 
state,  that  when  he  said  he  was  the  author,  he  was  the  total  and  undivided 
author.  With  the  exception  of  quotations,  there  was  not  a  single  word  that  was 
not  derived  from  himself,  or  suggested  in  the  course  of  his  reading.  The  wand 
was  now  broken,  and  the  book  buried.  You  will  allow  me  further  to  say,  with 
Prospero.  it  is  your  breath  that  has  filled  my  sails,  and  to  crave  one  single  toast 
in  the  capacity  of  the  author  of  these  novels  ;  and  he  would  dedicate  a  bumper  to 
the  health  of  one  who  has  represented  some  of  those  characters,  of  which  he  had 
endeavored  to  give  the  skeleton,  with  a  degree  of  liveliness  which  rendered  him 
grateful.  He  would  propose  the  health  of  his  friend  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie— (loud 
applause)— and  he  was— sure  that,  when  the  Author  of  Waverley  and  Rob  Roy 
drinks  to  Nicol  Jarvie.  it  would  be  received  with  that  degree  of  applause  to  which 
that  gentleman  has  always  been  accustomed,  and  that  they  would  take  care  that 
on  the  present  occasion  it  should  be  prodigious  !  (Long  and  vehement  ap- 
plause.) 

Mr.  Macay,  who  here  spoke  with  great  humor  in  the  character  of  Bailie  Jarvie. 
—My  conscience  !  My  worthy  father  the  deacon  could  not  have  believed  that 
his  son  could  hae  had  sic  a  compliment  paid  to  him  by  the  Great  Unknown  1 

Sir  Walter  Scott. — The  Small  Known,  now,  Mr.  Bailie. 

Mr.  Mackay.— He  had  been  long  identified  with  the  Bailie,  and  he  was  vain  of 
the  cognomen  which  he  had  now  worn  for  eight  years  ;  and  he  questioned  if  any 
of  his  brethren  in  the  council  had  given  such  universal  satisfaction.  (Loud 
laughter  and  applajise.)  Before  he  sat  down  he  begged  to  propose  "The  Lord 
Provost  and  the  (Jity  of  Edinburgh." 

Sir  Walter  Scott  apologized  for  the  absence  of  the  Lord  Provost,  who  had 
gone  to  London  on  public  business. 

Tune—"  Within  a  mile  of  Edinburgh  town." 

Sir  Walter  Scott  gave  "  The  Duke  of  Wellington  and  the  army." 

Glee — "  How  merrily  we  live." 

"  Lord  Melville  and  the  Navy,  that  fought  till  they  left  nobody  to  fight  with, 
like  an  arch  sportsman  who  clears  all  and  goes  after  the  game." 
■It  Mr.  Pat.  Robertson.— They  had  heard  this  evening  a  toast  which  had  been  re- 
in eeived  with  intense  delight,  which  will  be  published  in  every  newspaper,  and  will 
r  be  hailed  with  joy  by  all  Europe.  He  had  one  toast  assigned  him  which  he  had 
great  pleasure  in  giving.  He  was  sure  that  the  stage  had  in  all  ages  a  great  ef- 
:  feet  on  the  morals  and  manners  of  the  people.  It  was  very  desirable  that  the 
.stage  should  be  well  regulated  ;  and  there  was  no  criterion  by  which  its  regula- 
:  tion  could  be  better  determined  than  by  the  moral  character  and  personal  re- 
:!  spectability  of  the  performers.  He  was  not  one  of  those  stern  moralists  who  ob- 
i  Jected  to  the  theatre.    The  most  fastidious  moraUst  could  not  possibly  apprehend 


462  APPENDIX  TO  INTRODUCTION 

any  injury  from  the  stage  of  Edinburgh,  as  it  was  presently  managed,  and  so 
long  as  it  was  adorned  by  that  illustrious  individual,  Mrs.  Henry  Siddons,  whosej 
public  exhibitions  were  not  more  remarkable  for  feminine  grace  and  delicacyi 
than  was  her  private  character  for  every  virtue  which  could  be  admired  in  do- 
mestic life.  He  would  conclude  with  reciting  a  few  words  from  Shakspeare,  in  a 
spirit  not  of  contradiction  to  those  stern  moralists  who  disliked  the  theater,  init 
of  meekness  : — "Good  my  lord,  will  you  see  the  players  well  bestowed  ?  do  yoi: 
hear,  let  them  be  well  used,  for  they  are  the  abstract  and  brief  chronicles  of  tlu 
time."  He  then  gave  "  Mrs.  Henry  Siddons,  and  success  to  the  Theater-Royal  <>1 
Edinburgh." 

Mr.  Murray.— Gentlemen,  I  rise  to  return  thanks  for  the  honor  you  have  doiu 
Mrs.  Siddons,  in  doing  which  I  am  somewhat  difticuited,  from  the  extreme  deli 
cacy  which  attends  a  brother's  expatiating  upon  a  sister's  claims  to  honor; 
publicly  paid — (hear,  hear) — yet,  gentlemen,  your  kindness  emboldens  me  to  sav 
that  were  I  to  give  utterance"  to  all  a  brother's  feelings,  I  should  not  exaggerate 
those  claims.  (Loud  applause.)  I  therefore,  gentlemen,  thank  you  most  cordi 
ally  for  the  honor  you  have  done  her,  and  shall  now  request  permission  to  make  ai 
observation  on  the  establishment  of  the  Edinburgh  Theatrical  Fund.  Mr.  Macka> 
has  done  Mrs.  Heni-y  Siddons  and  myself  the  honor  to  ascribe  the  establishment  t< 
us  ;  but  no,  gentlemen,  it  owes  its  origin  to  a  higher  source— the  publication  of  tin 
novel  Rob  Roy — the  unprecedented  success  of  the  opera  adapted  from  that  popu 
lar  production.  (Hear,  hear. )  It  was  that  success  which  reheved  the  Edinburprl 
Theater  from  its  ditificulties  and  enabled  Mrs.  Siddons  to  carry  into  elTect  the  estab 
lishment  of  a  fund  she  had  long  desired,  but  was  prevented  from  effecting,  fron 
the  unsettled  state  of  her  theatrical  concerns.  I  therefore  hope  that,  in  futun 
years,  when  the  aged  and  infirm  actor  deiives  relief  from  this  fund,  he  will,  ii 
the  language  of  the  gallant  Highlander,  "  Cast  his  eye  to  good  old  Scotland,  auc 
not  forget  Rob  Roy."    (Loud  applause.) 

Sir  Walter  Scott  here  stated,  that  Mrs.  Siddons  wanted  the  means  but  not  Uv 
will  of  beginning  the  Theatrical  Fund.  He  here  alluded  to  the  great  merits  o 
Mr.  Murray's  management,  and  to  his  merits  as  an  actor,  which  were  of  the  firs 
order,  and  of  which  every  person  who  attends  the  theater  must  be  sensible  ;  am 
after  alluding  to  the  embarrassments  with  which  the  theater  had  been  at  on 
period  threatened,  he  concluded  by  giving  the  health  of  Mr.  Murray,  which  wa 
drunk  with  three  times  three. 

Mr.  Murray.— Gentlemen,  I  wish  I  could  believe  that,  in  any  degree,  I  meritei 
the  compliments  with  which  it  has  pleased  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  preface  the  pn 
posal  of  my  health,  or  the  very  flattering  manner  in  which  you  have  done  ni 
the  honor  to  receive  it.  The  approbation  of  such  an  assembly 'is  most  gratifyin; 
to  me,  and  might  encourage  feelings  of  vanity,  were  not  such  feelings  crushed  b 
my  conviction,  that  no  man  holding  the  situation  I  have  so  long  held  in  Edinburg 
could  have  failed,  placed  in  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  I  have  bees: 
placed.  Gentlemen,  I  shall  not  insult  your  good  taste  by  eulogiums  upon  youk 
judgment  or  kindly  feeling  ;  though  to  the  first  I  owe  any  improvement  1  may  havl 
made  as  an  actor,  and  certainly  my  success  as  a  manager  to  the  second.  (Aff 
plause.)  When,  upon  the  death  of  my  dear  brother,  the  late  Mr.  Siddons,  it  wa 
proposed  that  I  should  undertake  the  management  of  the  Edinburgh  Theater, 
confess  I  drew  back,  doubting  my  capability  to  free  it  from  the  load  of  debt  an 
difficulty  with  which  it  was  surrounded.  In  this  state  of  anxiety,  I  solicited  th 
advice  of  one  who  had  ever  honored  me  with  his  kindest  regard,  and  whose  nam 
no  member  of  my  profession  can  pronounce  without  feelings  of  the  deepest  r( 
spect  and  gratitude— I  allude  to  the  late  Mr.  John  Kemble.  (Great  applause 
To  him  I  applied  ;  and  with  the  repetition  of  his  advice  I  shall  cease  to  trespas 
upon  your  time— (hear,  hear), — "My  dear  William,  fear  not;  integrity  and  a: 
siduity  must  prove  an  overmatch  for  all  difficulty  ;  and  though  I  approve  yoi 
not  indulging  a  vain  confidence  in  your  own  ability,  and  viewing  with  respectfi 
apprehension  the  judgment  of  the  audience  you  have  to  act  before,  yet  be  assure 
that  judgment  will  ever  be  tempered  by  the  feeling  that  you  are  acting  fc 
the  widow  and  the  fatherless."  (Loud  applause.)  Gentlemen,  those  words  ha\ 
never  passed  from  my  mind  ;  and  I  feel  convinced  that  you  have  pardoned  m 
many  errors  from  the  feeling  that  I  was  striving  for  the  widow  and  the  fatherles 
(Long  and  enthusiastic  applause  followed  Mr.  Murray's  address.) 

Sir  Walter  Scott  gave  the  health  of  the  Stewards. 

Mr.  Vandenhofp.— Mr.  Presidentand  gentlemen,  the  honor  conferred  upon  tl 
Stewards,  in  the  very  flattering  compliment  you  have  just  paid  us,  calls  fort 
our  warmest  acknowledgments.  In  tendering  you  our  thanks  for  the  approb 
tion  you  have  been  pleased  to  express  of  our  humble  exertions,  I  would  beg  leai 
to  advert  to  the  cause  in  which  we  have  been  engaged.  Yet,  surrounded  as  I  a 
by  the  genius,  the  eloquence  of  this  enlightened  city,  I  cannot  but  feel  the  pr 
sumption  which  ventures  to  address  you  on  so  interesting  a  subject.  Accustom* 
to  speak  in  the  language  of  others,  I  feel  quite  at  a  loss  for  terms  wherein 
clothe  the  sentiments  excited  by  the  present  occasion.    (Applause.)    The  natu: 


TO  THE  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE        46 

of  the  institution  whicii  has  sought  your  fostering  patronage,  and  the  objects 
which  it  contemplates,  have  been  fully  explained  to  you.  But,  gentlemen,  the 
relief  which  it  proposes  is  not  a  gratuitous  relief,  but  to  be  purchased  by  the 
individual  contribution  of  its  members  towards  the  general  good.  This  fund 
lends  no  encouragement  to  idleness  or  improvidence  ;  but  it  offers  an  opportun- 
ity to  prudence,  in  vigor  and  youth,  to  make  provision  against  the  evening  of 
Ufe  and  its  attendant  infirmity.  A  period  is  fixed,  at  which  we  admit  the  plea  of 
age  as  an  exemption  from  professional  labor.  It  is  painful  to  behold  the  veteran 
on  the  stage  (compelled  by  necessity)  contending  against  physical  decay,  mock- 
ing the  joyousness  of  mirth  with  the  feebleness  of  age,  when  the  energies  decline, 
when  the  memory  fails,  and  "  the  big  manly  voice,  turning  again  towards  child- 
ish treble,  pipes  and  whistles  in  the  sound."  We  would  remove  him  from  the 
mimic  scene,  where  fiction  constitutes  the  charm ;  we  would  not  view  old  age 
caricaturing  itself .  (Applause.)  But  as  our  means  may  be  found,  in  time  of 
need,  inadequate  to  the  fulfilment  of  our  wishes— fearful  of  raising  expectations 
which  we  may  be  unable  to  gratify— desirous  not  "  to  keep  the  word  of  promise 
to  the  ear  and  break  it  to  the  hope  "—we  have  presumed  to  court  the  assistance 
of  tlie  friends  of  the  drama  to  strengthen  our  infant  institution.  Our  appeal  has 
been  successful  beyond  our  most  sanguine  expectations.  The  distinj-uished 
patronage  conferred  on  us  by  your  presence  on  this  occasion,  and  the  substan- 
tial support  which  your  benevolence  has  so  liberally  afforded  to  our  institution, 
must  impress  evei-y  member  of  the  fund  with  the  most  grateful  sentiments- 
sentiments  which  no  language  can  express,  no  time  obliterate.  (Applause.)  I 
will  not  trespass  longer  on  your  attention.  I  would  the  task  of  acknowledging 
our  obligation  had  fallen  into  abler  hands.  (Hear,  hear.)  In  the  name  of  the 
Stewards,  I  most  respectfully  and  cordially  thank  you  for  the  honor  you  have 
done  us,  which  greatly  overpays  our  poor  endeavors.     (Applause.) 

This  speech,  though  rather  inadequately  reported,  was  one  of  the  best  deliv- 
ered on  this  occasion.    That  it  was  creditable  to  Mr.  Vandenhoff's  taste  and  feel- 
ings, the  preceding  sketch  will  show  ;  but  how  much  it  was  so,  it  does  not  show. 
,       Mr.  J.  Cay  gave  "  Professor  Wilson  and  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  of  which 
^j  he  was  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments." 

Lord  Meadowbank,  after  a  suitable  eulogium,  gave  "  The  Earl  of  Fife,"  which 
was  drunk  with  three  times  three. 

Earl  Fife  expressed  his  high  gratification  at  the  honor  conferred  on  him.    He 
intimated  his  approbation  of  the  institution,  and  his  readiness  to  promote  its  suc- 
^1  cess  by  every  means  in  his  power.    He  concluded  with  giving  "  The  health  of  the 
"'■  Company  of  Edinburgh." 

Mr.  Jones,  on  rising  to  return  thanks,  being  received  with  considerable  ap- 

J    plause,  said  he  was  truly  grateful  for  the  kind  encouragement  he  had  experi- 

'J  enced,  but  the  novelty  of  the  situation  in  which  he  now  was  renewed  all  the  feel- 

j"  ings  he  experienced  when  he  first  saw  himself  announced  in  the  bills  as  a  young 

J"  gentleman,  being  his  first  appearance  on  any  stage.     (Laughter  and  applause). 

Although  in  the  presence  of  those  whose  indulgence  had,  in  another  sphere,  so 

often  shielded  him  from  the  penalties  of  inability,  he  was  unable  to  execute  the 

task  which  had  so  unexpectedly  devolved  upon  him  in  behalf  of  his  brethren  and 

himself.    He  therefore  begged  the  company  to  imagine  all  that  grateful  hearts 

f    could  prompt  the  most  eloquent  to  utter,  and  that  would  be  a  copy  of  their  feel- 

"t  ings.    (Applause.)    He  begged  to  trespass  another  moment  on  their  attention, 

for  the  purpose  of  expressing  the  thanks  of  the  members  of  the  fund  to  the 

gentlemen  of  the  Edinburgh  Professional  Society  of  Musicians,  who,  finding  that 

this  meeting  was  appointed  to  take  place  on  the  same  evening  with  their  con- 

"i  cert,  had  in  the  handsomest  manner  agreed  to  postpone  it.    Although  it  was  his 

''  duty  thus  to  preface  the  toast  he  had  to  propose,  he  was  certain  the  meeting 

j"i  required  no  farther  inducement  than  the  recollection  of  the  pleasure  the  exer- 

'"  tions  of  those  gentlemen  had  often  afforded  them  within  those  walls,  to  join 

f}  heartily  in  drinking  "  Health  and  prosperity  to  the  Edinburgh  Professional  Soc- 

"■  iety  of  Musicians."    (Applause.) 

''■      Mr.  Pat.  Robertson  proposed  "  The  health  of  Mr.  Jeffrey,"  whose  absence  was 
■?!  owing  to  indisposition.    The  public  was  well  aware  that  he  was  the  most  distin- 
ct guished  advocate  at  the  bar;  he  was  likewise  distinguished  for  the  kindness, 
frankness,  and  cordial   manner  in   which   he    communicated  with  the  junior 
members  of  the  profession,  to  the  esteem  of  whom  his  splendid  talents  would 
always  entitle  him. 
■■  ■      Mr.  J.  Maconochie  gave  "  The  health  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  senior— the  most  distin- 
w  guished  ornament  of  the  stage." 

*  Sir  W.  Scott  said,  that  if  anything  could  reconcile  him  to  old  age,  it  was  the 
M  reflection  that  he  had  seen  the  rising  as  well  as  the  setting  sun  of  Mrs.  Siddons. 
?'  He  remembered  well  their  breakfasting  near  to  the  theater,  waiting  the  whole 
■  day,  the  crushing  at  the  doors  at  six  o'clock,  and  their  going  in  and  counting 
-  their  fingers  till  seven  o'clock.  But  the  very  first  step,  the  very  first  word 
• '  which  she  uttered,  was  sufficient  to  overpay  him  for  all  his  labors.    The  house 


464  APPENDIX  TO  INTRODUCTION 

was  literally  electrified  ;  and  it  was  only  from  w  itnessing  the  effects  of  her  geniui 
that  he  could  guess  to  what  a  pitch  theatrical  excellence  could  be  carried 
Those  young  gentlemen  who  have  only  seen  the  setting  sun  of  this  distinguishec 
performer,  beautiful  and  serene  as  that  was,  must  give  us  old  fellows,  who  havi 
seen  its  rise  and  its  meridian,  leave  to  hold  our  heads  a  little  higher. 

Mr.  DuNDAs  gave  "  The  memory  of  Home,  the  author  of  Douglas.'''' 

Mr.  Mackay  here  announced  that  the  subscription  for  the  night  amounted  ti 
£280  ;  and  he  expressed  gratitude  for  this  substantial  proof  of  their  kindness. 

We  are  happy  to  state  that  subscriptions  have  since  flowed  in  very  liberally. 

Mr.  Mackay  here  entertained  the  company  with  a  pathetic  song. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  apologized  for  having  so  long  forgotten  their  native  land 
He  would  now  give  "  Scotland,  the  land  of  Cakes."  He  would  give  every  river 
every  loch,  every  hill,  from  Tweed  to  Johnnie  Groat's  house  ;  every  lass  in  hej 
cottage  and  countess  in  her  castle  ;  and  may  her  sons  stand  by  her.  as  thei 
fathers  did  before  them,  and  he  who  would  not  drink  a  bumper  to  his  toast,  ma; 
he  never  drink  whisky  more  ! 

Sir  AValter  Scott  here  gave  "  Lord  Meadowbank."  who  returned  thanks. 

Mr.  H.  G.  Bell  said,  that  he  should  not  have  ventured  to  intrude  himself  upc 
the  attention  of  ths  assembly,  did  he  not  feel  confident  that  the  toast  he  beggC' 
to  have  the  honor  to  propose  would  make  amends  of  the  very  imperfect  manne; 
in  which  he  might  express  his  sentiments  regarding  it.  It  had  been  said  thai- 
notwithstanding  the  mental  supremacy  of  the  present  age,  notwithstanding  tha: 
the  page  of  our  liistory  was  studded  with  names  destined  also  for  the  page  of  in 
mortility — that  tlie  genius  of  Shakspeare  was  extinct,  and  the  fountain  of  his  ii 
spiratiori  dried  up.  It  might  be  that  these  observations  were  unfortunately  coi 
rect,  or  it  might  be  that  we  were  bewildered  with  a  name,  not  disappointed  of  th 
reality  ;  for  though  Shakspeare  had  brought  a  Hamlet,  an  Othello,  and  a  Mai 
beth,  an  Ariel,  a  Juliet,  and  a  Rosalind  upon  the  stage,  were  there  not  authoi 
living  who  had  brought  as  varied,  as  exquisitely  painted,  and  as  undying  a  rang 
of  characters  into  our  hearts  ?  The  shape  of  the  mere  mould  into  which  genii 
poured  its  golden  treasures  was  surely  a  matter  of  little  moment — let  it  be  calle 
a  tragedy,  a  comedy,  or  a  Waverley  novel.  But,  even  among  the  dramatic  a) 
thors  of  the  present  day,  he  was  unwilling  to  allow  that  there  was  a  great  an 
palpable  decline  from  the  glory  of  preceding  ages,  and  his  toast  alone  woul 
bear  him  out  in  denying  the  truth  of  the  proposition.  After  eulogizing  the  nami 
of  BaiMe,  Byron,  Coleridge,  Maturin,  and  othei-s,  he  begged  to  have  the  honor  ( 
proposing  the  health  of  James  Sheridan  Knowles. 

Sir  V\'alter  Scott. — Gentlemen,  I  crave  a  bumper  all  over.  The  last  toast  r 
minds  me  of  a  neglect  of  duty.  Unaccustomed  to  a  public  dutj-  of  this  kind,  e 
rors  in  conducting  the  ceremonial  of  it  may  be  excused  and  omissions  pardone 
Perhaps  I  have  made  one  or  two  omissions  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  f( 
which  I  trust  you  will  grant  me  your  pardon  and  indulgence.  One  thing  in  pa 
ticular  I  have  omitted,  and  I  would  now  wish  to  make  amends  for  it,  by  a  lib 
tion  of  reverence  and  respect  to  the  memory  of  Shakspeare.  He  was  a  man 
universal  genius,  and  from  a  period  soon  after  his  own  era  to  the  present  day  ) 
has  been  universally  idolized.  When  I  come  to  his  honored  name,  I  am  like"  tl 
sick  man  who  hung' up  his  crutches  at  the  shrine,  and  was  obliged  to  confess  th 
he  did  not  walk  better  than  before.  It  is  indeed  difficult,  gentlemen,  to  coi 
pare  him  to  any  other  individual.  The  only  one  to  whom  I  can  at  all  compa 
him  is  the  wonderful  Arabian  dervise,  who  dived  into  the  body  of  each,  and 
this  way  became  familiar  witli  the  thoughts  and  secrets  of  their  hearts.  He  w 
a  man  of  obscure  origin,  and.  as  a  player,  limited  in  his  acquirements,  but 
was  born  evidently  with  a  universal  genius.  His  eyes  glanced  at  all  the  vari 
aspects  of  life,  and  his  fancy  portrayed  with  equal  talents  the  king  on  the  thro 
and  the  clown  who  crackles  his  chestnuts  at  a  Christmas  fire.  Whatever  note 
takes,  he  strikes  it  just  and  true,  and  awakens  a  corresponding  chord  in  our  oi 
bosoms.    Gentlemen,  I  propose  "  The  memory  of  William  Shakspeare." 

Glse — "Lightly  tread,  'tis  hallowed  ground." 

After  the  glae.  Sir  Walter  rose,  and  begged  to  propose  as  a  toast  the  health 
a  lady  whose  living  merit  is  not  a  Httle  honorable  to  Scotland.  The  toast  (si 
he)  is  also  flattering  to  the  national  vanity  of  a  Scotchman,  as  the  lady  when 
intend  to  propose  is  a  native  of  this  country.  From  the  public  her  works  ha 
met  with  the  most  favorable  reception.  One  piece  of  hers,  in  particular,  w ; 
often  acted  here  of  late  years,  and  gave  pleasure  of  no  mean  kind  to  many  bri  ■ 
ant  and  fashionable  audiences.  In  her  private  character  she  (he  begged  let! 
to  say)  is  as  remarkable  as  in  a  public  sense  she  is  for  her  genius.  In  short,  ; 
would  in  one  word  name — "Joanna  Baillie." 

This  health  being  drunk,  Mr.  Thorne  was  called  on  for  a  song,  and  sung,  w  i 
great  taste  and  feeling,  "The  Anchor's  weighed."' 

W.  Menzies.  Esq.  advocate,  rose  to  propose  the  health  of  a  gentleman  for  ma' 
years  connected  at  intervals  with  the  dramatic  art  in  Scotland.  Whether  J 
look  at  the  range  of  characters  he  performs  or  at  the  capacity  which  he  evin  J 


TO  THE  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE         465 

in  executing  those  which  he  undertakes,  he  is  equally  to  be  admired.  In  all  his 
parts  he  is  unrivalled.  The  individual  to  whom  he  alluded  is  (said  he)  well 
known  to  the  gentlemen  present,  in  the  characters  of  Malvolio,  Lord  Ogleby,  and 
the  Green  Man  ;  and,  in  addition  to  his  other  qualities,  he  merits,  for  his  pertec- 
tion  in  these  characters,  the  grateful  sense  of  this  meeting.  He  would  wish,  in 
the  first  place,  to  drink  his  health  as  an  actor  :  but  he  was  not  less  estimable  in 
domestic  life,  and  as  a  private  gentleman  ;  and  when  he  announced  him  as  one 
whom  the  Chairman  had  honored  with  his  friendship,  he  was  sure  that  all  pres- 
ent would  cordially  join  him  in  drinking  "  The  health  of  Mr.  Terry." 

Mr  William  Allen,  banker,  said,  that  he  did  not  rise  with  the  intention  of 
making  a  speech.  He  merely  wished  to  contribute  in  a  few  words  to  the  mirth  of 
the  evening— an  evening  which  certainly  had  not  passed  off  without  some 
blunders  It  had  been  understood— at  least  he  had  learned  or  supposed,  from 
the  expressions  of  Mr.  Pritchard— tliat  it  would  be  sufficient  to  put  a  paper,  with 
the  name  of  the  contributor,  into  the  box,  and  that  the  gentleman  thus  contrib- 
uting would  be  called  on  for  the  money  next  morning.  He,  for  his  part,  had 
committed  a  blunder,  but  it  might  serve  as  a  caution  to  those  who  may  be  pres- 
ent at  the  dinner  of  next  year.  He  had  merely  put  in  his  name,  written  on  a  slip 
of  paper,  without  the  money.  But  he  would  recommend  that,  as  some  of  the 
gentlemen  might  be  in  the  same  situation,  the  box  should  be  again  sen*^  round, 
and  he  was  confident  that  they,  as  well  as  he,  would  redeem  their  error. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  said,  that  the  meeting  was  somewhat  in  the  situation  or 
Mrs.  Anne  Page,  who  had  £300  and  possibilities.  We  have  already  got  (said  he) 
£280,  but  I  should  like,  I  confess,  to  have  the  £300.  He  would  gratify  himself  by 
proposing  the  health  of  an  honorable  person,  the  Lord  Chief  Baron,  whom  Eng- 
land has  sent  to  us,  and  connecting  with  it  that  of  his  "  yokefellow  on  the  bench," 
as  Shakspeare  says,  Mr.  Baron  Clerk—"  The  Court  of  Exchequer." 

Mr.  Baron  Clark  regretted  the  absence  of  his  learned  brother.  None,  he  was 
sure,  could  be  more  generous  in  his  nature,  or  more  ready  to  help  a  Scottish 
purpose. 

Sir  Walter  Scott.— There  is  one  who  ought  to  be  remembered  on  this  occa- 
sion. He  is,  indeed,  well  entitled  to  our  grateful  recollection— one,  in  short,  to 
whom  the  drama  in  this  city  owes  much.  He  succeeded,  not  without  trouble, 
and  perhaps  at  some  considerable  sacrifice,  in  establishing  a  theater.  The 
younger  part  of  the  company  may  not  recollect  the  theater  to  which  I  allude  ; 
but  there  are  some  who  with  me  may  remember  by  name  a  place  called  Car- 
rubber's  Close.  There  .\llan  Ramsay  established  his  little  theater.  His  own 
pastoral  was  not  fit  for  the  stage,  but  it  has  its  admirers  in  those  who  love  the 
Doric  language  in  which  it  is  written  ;  and  it  is  not  without  merits  of  a  very  pecu- 
liar kind.  But,  laying  aside  all  considerations  of  his  literary  merit,  Allan  was  a 
good,  jovial,  honest  fellow,  who  could  crack  a  bottle  with  the  best.  "  The  mem- 
ory of  Allan  Ramsay." 

Mr.  Murray,  on  being  requested,  sung,  "  'Twas  merry  in  the  hall,"  and  at  the 
conclusion  was  greeted  with  repeated  rounds  of  applause. 

Mr.  Jones.— One  omission  I  conceive  has  been  made.     The  cause  of  the  fund 
has  been  ably  advocated,  but  it  is  still  susceptible,  in  my  opinion,  of  an  additional 
charm- 
Without  the  smile  from  partial  beauty  won, 
Oh,  what  were  man  ?— a  world  without  a  sun  1 

And  there  would  not  be  a  darker  spot  in  poetry  than  would  be  the  corner  in 
Shakespeare  Square  if, like  its  fellow,  the  Register  Office,  the  theater  were  de- 
serted by  the  ladies.  They  are,  in  fact,  our  most  attractive  stars.  "  The  Patron- 
esses of  the  theater— the  ladies  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh."  This  toast  I  ask  leave 
to  drink  with  all  the  honors  which  conviviality  can  confer. 

Mr.  Patrick  Robertson  would  be  the  last  man  willingly  to  introduce  any  topic 
calculated  to  interrupt  the  harmony  of  the  evening  ;  yet  he  felt  himself  treading 
upon  ticklish  ground  when  he  approached  the  region  of  the  Nor'  Loch.  He  as- 
sured the  company,  however,  that  he  was  not  about  to  enter  on  the  subject  of 
■*he  improvement  bill.  They  all  knew,  that  if  the  public  were  unanimous— if  the 
jonsent  of  all  parties  were  obtaised- if  the  rights  and  interests  of  everybody 
vere  therein  attended  to,  saved,  reserved,  respected,  and  excepted— if  everybody 
igreed  to  it— and  finally,  a  most  essential  point,  if  nobody  opposed  it— then,  and 
to  that  cnse,  and  provided  also  that  due  intimation  were  given— the  bill  in  ques- 
tion might  pass— would  pass,  or  might,  could,  would,  or  should  pass— all  ex- 
penses being  defrayed.  (Laughter.)  He  was  the  advocate  of  neither  champion, 
and  would  neither  avail  himself  of  the  absence  of  the  Right  Hon.  the  Lord  Pro- 
vost nor  take  advantage  of  the  non-appearance  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Cockburn. 
(Laughter.)  But,  in  the  midst  of  these  civic  broils,  there  had  been  elicited  a  ray 
of  hope,  that,  at  some  future  period,  in  Berefonl  i'ark.  or  some  other  place,  if 
all  parties  were  consulted  and  satisfied,  and  if  intimation  were  duly  made  at 
the  kirk  doors  of  all  the  parishes  in  Scotland,  in  terms  of  the  statute  in  that  be- 


466  APPENDIX  TO  INTBODUCTION 

balf  provided,  the  people  of  Edinburgh  might  by  possibiHty  get  a  new  theatre. 
(Cheers  and  laughter.)  But  wherever  the  belligerent  powers  might  be  pleased 
to  set  down  this  new  theatre,  he  was  sure  they  all  hoped  to  meet  the  Old  Com- 
pany in  it.  He  should  therefore  propose,  "  Better  accommodation  to  the  Old 
Company  m  the  new  theatre,  site  unknown."  Mr.  Robertsons  speech  was  most 
humorously  given,  and  he  sat  down  amidst  loud  cheers  and  laughter. 

Sir  Walter  Scott.— Wherever  the  new  theater  is  built,  I  hope  it  will  not  be 
large.  There  are  two  errors  which  we  commonly  commit— the  one  arising  from 
our  pride,  the  other  from  our  poverty.  If  there  are  twelve  plans,  it  is  odds  but 
the  largest,  without  any  regard  to  comfort,  or  an  eye  to  the  probable  expense,  is 
adopted.  There  was  the  College  projected  on  this  scale,  and  undertaken  in  the 
same  manner,  and  who  shall  see  the  end  of  it  ?  It  has  been  building  all  my  life, 
and  may  probably  last  during  the  lives  of  my  children,  and  my  children's  chil- 
dren. Let  not  the  same  prophetic  hymn  be  sung,  when  we  commence  a  new 
theater,  which  was  performed  on  the  occasion  of  laying  the  foundation-stone  of 
a  certain  edifice,  '•  Behold  the  endless  work  begun."  Play -going  folks  should  at- 
tend somewhat  to  con\enience.  The  new  theater  should,  in  the  first  place,  be 
such  as  may  be  finished  in  eighteen  months  or  two  years  ;  and,  in  the  second 
place,  it  should  be  one  in  which  we  can  hear  our  old  friends  with  comfort.  It  is 
better  that  a  moderate-sized  house  ^ould  be  crowded  now  and  then  than  to  have 
a  large  theater  with  benches  continually  empty,  to  the  discouragement  of  the 
actors  and  the  discomfort  of  the  spectators.  (Applause.)  He  then  commented 
in  ttattering  terms  on  the  genius  of  Mackenzie  and  his  private  worth,  and  con- 
cluded by  proposing  "  The  health  of  Henry  Mackenzie,  Esq." 

Immediately  afterwards  he  said  :  Gentlemen,  it  is  now  wearing  late  and  I 
shall  request  permission  to  retire.     Like  Partridge  I  may  sav,  "  non  sum  gualis 

era  III.       At  m\'  ■  "^lo  ,^f  rir.,,   t  «„  — ,..:n,  t — .j  ^_,  ..-i^  _  - ;    ,.      ,  ^.. 

and  say.  "  Ther 
the  chair. 


Ri 


i\-  time  of  day,  1  can  agree  with  Lord  Ogleby  as' to  his  rheumatism^ 
ere  s  a  twinge."    I  hope,  therefore,  you  will  excuse  me  for  leaving 


The  worthy  baronet  then  retired  amidst  Ions',  loud,  and  rapturous  cheering 
Mr.  Patrick  Robertson  was  then  called  to  the  chair  bv  common  acclamation. 
Gentlemen,  said  Mr.  Robertson,  I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  vou  to  fill  a  bumper 
lo  the  very  brim.     There  is  not  one  of  us  who  will  not  remember  while  he  lives 
being:  present  at  this  day's  festival,  and  the  declaration  made  this  night  bv  the 
gentleman  who  has  .lUst  left  the  chair.    That  declaration  has  rent  the  veil  "from 
the  features  of  the  Great  Unknown— a  name  which  must  now  mer^e  in  the  name 
of  the  Great  Known.    It  will  be  henceforth  coupled  with  the  name  of  Scott, 
which  will  become  familiar  like  a  household  word.     We  have  heard  the  confes- 
sion from  his  own  immortal  lips  (cheering),  and  we  cannot  dwell  'with  too  much 
or  too  fervent,  praise  on  the  merits  of  the  greatest  man  whom  Scotland  has  pro- 
After  which,  several  other  toasts  were  given,  and  Mr.  Robertson  left  the  room 
about  half-past  eWem    A  few  choice  spirits,  however,  rallied  round  Captain 
Broadhead  of  the  <th  Hussars,  who  was  called  to  the  chair  and  the  festivity  was 
prolonged  till  an  early  hour  on  Saturday  morning. 

The  band  of  the  theater  occupied  the  gallerv.  and  that  of  the  7th  Hussars  the 
end  of  the  room,  opposite  the  chair,  whose  performances  were  greatly  admired 
It  is  but  justice  to  Mr  Gibb  to  state,  that  the  dinner  was  very  handsome,  though 
slow  y  served  in.  and  the  wines  good.  The  attention  of  the  stewards  was  ex- 
^"'^v'l^-  ^I'-- Murray  and  Mr.  Vandenhoff  with  great  good  taste,  attended  on 
Sir  A\  alter  Scott  s  right  and  left,  and  we  know  that  he  has  expressed  himself, 
much  gratified  by  their  anxious  politeness  and  sedulity.  '' 


!wj 


NOTES 

Note  1— Taunt  of  Effeminacy,  p.  7 

R  is  said  in  Highland  tradition  that  one  of  the  Macdonalds  of  the  Isles,  who 
had  suffered  his  broadsword  to  remain  sheathed  for  some  months  after  his  mar- 
riage with  a  beautiful  woman,  was  stirred  to  a  sudden  and  furious  expedition 
against  the  mainland  by  hearing  conversation  to  the  same  purpose  [as  in  the 
text]  among  his  body-guard. 

Note  2.— Welsh  Houses,  p.  8 

The  Welsh  houses,  like  those  of  the  cognate  tribes  in  Ireland  and  in  the  High- 
lands of  Scotland,  were  very  imperfectly  supplied  with  chimneys.  Hence,  in  the 
History  of  the  Gwydir  Family,  the  strilcing  expression  of  a  Welsh  chieftain,  who, 
I  the  house  being  assaulted  and  set  on  fire  by  his  enemies,  exhorted  his  friends  to 
stand  to  their  defence,  saying,  he  had  seen  as  much  smoke  in  the  hall  upon  a 
Christmas  even. 

Note  3.— Eudorchawg,  p.  8 

These  were  the  distinguished  marks  of  rank  and  valor  among  the  numerous 
tribes  of  Celtic  extraction.  Manlius,  the  Roman  Champion,  gained  the  name  of 
Torquatus,  or  He  of  the  Chain,  on  account  of  an  ornament  of  this  kind,  won  in 
single  combat  from  a  gigantic  Gaul.  Aneurin,  the  Welsh  bard,  mentions,  in  his 
poem  on  the  battle  of  Cattreath,  that  no  less  than  three  hundred  of  the  British 
who  fell  there  had  their  necks  wreathed  with  the  eudorchawg.  This  seems  to 
infer  that  the  chain  was  a  badge  of  distinction,  and  valor  perhaps,  but  not  of 
royalty  ;  otherwise  there  would  scarce  have  been  so  many  kings  present  in  one 
battle.  This  chain  has  been  found  accordingly  in  Ireland  and  Wales,  and  some- 
times, though  more  rarely,  in  Scotland.  Doubtless  it  was  of  too  precious  mater- 
ials not  to  be  usually  converted  into  money  by  the  enemy  into  whose  hands  it 
feU. 

Note  4.— Foot-pages,  p.  9 

See  Madoc  [Part  1. 1]  for  this  literal  foot-page's  office  and  duties.  Mr.  Southey's 
notes  inform  us  :  "  The  foot-bearer  shall  hold  the  feet  of  the  king  in  his  lap, 
from  the  time  when  he  reclines  at  the  board  till  he  goes  to  rest,  and  he  shall 
chafe  them  with  a  towel ;  and  during  all  that  time  he  shall  watch  that  no  hurt 
shall  happen  to  the  king.  He  shall  eat  of  the  same  dish  from  which  the  king 
takes  his  food  ...  he  shall  light  the  first  candle  before  the  king  at  his  meal." 
Such  are  the  instructions  given  for  this  part  of  royal  ceremonial  in  the  laws  of 
Howell  Dha.  It  may  be  added,  that  probably  upon  this  Celtic  custom  was.founded 
one  of  those  absurd  and  incredible  representations  which  were  propagated  at 
the  time  of  the  French  Revolution,  to  stir  up  the  peasants  against  their  feudal 
superiors.  It  was  pretended  that  some  feudal  seigneurs  asserted  their  right  to 
kill  and  disembowel  a  peasant,  in  order  to  put  their  own  feet  within  the  expiring 
body,  and  so  recover  them  from  the  chill. 

Note  5.— Courage  op  the  Welsh,  p.  34 

This  is  by  no  means  exaggerated  in  the  text.  A  very  honorable  testimony 
was  given  to  their  valor  by  King  Henry  I.  in  a  letter  to  the  Greek  Emperor, 
Emanuel  Comnenus.  This  prince  having  desired  that  an  account  might  be  sent 
him  of  all  that  was  remarkable  in  the  island  of  Great  Britain,  Henry,  in  answer 
to  that  request,  was  pleased  to  take  notice,  among  other  particulars,  of  the  ex- 
traordinary courage  and  fierceness  of  the  Welsh,  who  were  not  afraid  to_  fight 
unarmed  with  enemies  armed  at  all  points,  valiantly  shedding  their  blood  in  the 
cause  of  their  country,  and  purchasing  glory  at  the  expense  of  their  lives. 
467 


408  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Note  6.— Selling  Meat  by  Measure,  p.  55 

Old  Henry  Jenkins,  in  his  recollections  of  the  abbacies  before  their  dissolution 
has  preserved  the  fact  that  roast-beef  was  delivei'ed  out  to  the  guests  not  by 
weight,  but  by  measure. 

Note  7.— Welsh  Bowmen,  p.65 

The  Welsh  were  excellent  bowmen  ;  but,  under  favor  of  Lord  Lyttleton,  thev 
probably  did  not  use  the  long-bow,  the  formidable  weapon  of  the  Normans,  and 
afterwards  of  the  English  yeonten.  That  of  the  Welsh  most  likely  rather  re- 
sembled the  bow  of  the  cognate  Celtic  tribes  of  Ireland  and  of  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland.  It  was  shorter  than  the  Norman  long-bow,  as  being  drawn  to  the 
breast,  not  to  the  ear,  more  loosely  strung,  and  the  arrow  having  a  heavy  iron 
head  ;  altogether,  in  short,  a  less  effective  weapon.  It  appears  from  the  follow- 
ing anecdote  that  there  was  a  difference  between  the  Welsh  arrows  and  those  of 
the  English. 

In  112a  [112]].  Henry  I.,  marching  into  Powys  Land  to  chastise  Meredyth  tip 
Blethyn  and  certain  rebels,  in  passing  a  defile  was  struck  by  an  arrow"  on  the 
breast.  Repelled  by  the  excellence  of  his  breastplate,  the  shaft  fell  to  the 
ground.  When  the  King  felt  the  blow  and  saw  the  shaft,  he  swore  his  usual 
oath,  by  the  death  of  our  Lord,  that  the  arrow  came  not  from  a  Welsh,  but  an 
English  bow  ;  and,  influenced  by  this  belief,  hastily  put  an  end  to  the  war. 

Note  8.— Rattle  of  Armor,  p.  75 

Even  the  sharp  and  angry  clang  made  by  the  iron  scabbards  of  modern  cavalry 
ringing  against  the  steel-tipped  saddles  and  stirrup  betrays  their  approach  from 
a  distance.  The  clash  of  the  armor  of  knights,  armed  cap-a-pie,  voMSt  have  been 
much  more  easily  discernible. 

Note  9.— Cruelties  of  the  Welsh,  p.  87 

The  AVelsh,  a  fierce  and  barbarous  people,  were  often  accused  of  mangling 
the  bodies  of  their  slain  antagonists.  Every  one  must  remember  Shakespeare's 
account,  how 

Tlie  noble  Mortimer. 
Leading  the  men  of  Herefordshire  to  fight 
Against  the  irregular  and  wild  Glendower, 
Was,  by  the  rude  hands  of  that  Welshman,  taken, 
And  a  thousand  of  his  people  butcher'd  ; 
Upon  whose  dead  corpse  there  was  such  misuse, 
Such  beastly  shameless  transformation. 
By  those  Welshwomen  done,  as  may  not  be, 
Without  much  shame,  retold  or  spoken  of. 

Note  10.— Bahr-geist,  p.  126 

The  idea  of  the  bahr-geist  was  taken  from  a  passage  in  the  Memoirs  fpp.  83-86, 
1839]  of  Lady  Fanshavv,  which  have  since  been  given  to  the  public,  and  received 
with  deserved  approbation. 

The  original  runs  as  follows.  Lady  Fanshaw,  shifting  among  her  friends  in 
Ireland,  like  other  sound  loyalists  of  the  period,  tells  her  story  thus  :— 

From  hence  we  went  to  the  Lady  Honor  O'Brien's,  a  lady  that  went  for  a  maid, 
but  few  believed  it.  She  was  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Thomond. 
There  we  stayed  three  nights— the  fir.st  of  which  I  was  surprised  by  being  laid  in  a 
chamber,  when  about  one  o'clock,  I  heard  a  voice  that  wakened  me.  I  drev,- 
the  curtain,  and  in  the  casement  of  the  window,  I  saw,  by  the  light  of  the  moon, . 
a  woman  leaning  through  the  casement  into  the  window,  in  white,  with  red  hair 
and  pale  and  ghastly  complexion.  She  spoke  loud,  and  in  a  tone  I  had  never  heard, 
thrice,  "  A  horse"  ;  and  then,  with  a  sigh  more  like  the  wind  than  breath,  she 
vanished,  and  to  me  her  body  looked  more  like  a  thick  cloud  than  substance.  I 
was  so  much  frightened  that  my  hair  stood  on  end,  and  my  night-clothes  fell 
off.  I  pulled  and  pinched  your  father,  who  never  woke  during  the  disorder  I 
was  in,  but  at  last  was  much  stirprised  to  soe  me  in  this  fright,  and  more  so 
when  I  related  the  story  and  showed  him  the  window  opened.  Neither  of  us 
slept  any  more  that  night ;  but  he  entertained  me  with  telling  me  how  much 


NOTES  469 

more  these  apparitions  were  usual  in  this  country  than  in  England  ;  and  we 
concluded  the  cause  to  be  the  great  superstition  of  the  Irish,  and  the  want  of 
that  knowing  faith  which  should  defend  them  from  the  power  of  the  devil, 
which  he  exercises  among  them  very  much.  About  five  o'clock  the  lady  of  the 
house  came  to  see  us,  saying  she  had  not  been  in  bed  all  night,  because  a  cousin 
O'Brien  of  hers,  whose  ancestors  had  owned  that  house,  had  desired  her  to  stay 
with  him  in  his  chamber,  and  that  he  died  at  two  o'clock  ;  and  she  said,  "  I  wish 
you  to  have  had  no  disturbance,  for  'tis  the  custom  of  the  place  that,  when  any  of 
the  family  are  dying,  the  shape  of  a  woman  appears  every  night  in  the  window 
till  they  be  dead.  This  woman  was  many  ages  ago  got  with  child  by  the  owner 
of  this  place,  who  miurdered  her  in  his  garden,  and  flung  her  into  the  river  under 
the  window  ;  but  truly  I  thought  not  of  it  when  I  lodged  you  here,  it  being  the 
best  room  in  the  house."  We  made  little  reply  to  her  speech,  but  disposed  our- 
selves to  be  gone  suddenly. 

Note  11.— Knight's  Pennon,  p.  246 

The  pennon  of  a  knight  was,  in  shape,  a  long  streamer,  and  forked  like  a 
swallow's  tail  ;  the  banner  of  a  banneret  was  square,  and  was  formed  into  the 
other  by  cutting  the  ends  from  the  pennon.  It  was  thus  the  ceremony  was  per- 
formed on  the  pennon  of  John  Chandos,  by  the  Black  Prince,  before  the  battle 
of  Najara. 

I  Note  12.— Sensibility  to  Pain,  p.  275 

I      Such  an  expression   is  said   to  have  been   used  by  Mandrin,  the  celebrated 

y  j  smuggler,  while  in  the  act  of  being  broken  upon  the  wheel.    This  dreadful  pun- 

j,    ishment  consists  in  the  executioner,  with  a  bar  of  iron,  breaking  the  shoulder- 

,j !  bones,  arms,  thigh-bones,  and  legs  of  the  criminal,  taking  his  alternate  sides. 

I  The  punishment  is  concluded  by  a  blow  across  the  breast,  called  the  conp  de 

i  grace,  because  it  removes  the  sufferer  from  his  agony.    When  Mandrin  i-eceived 

I  the  second  blow  over  the  left  shoulder-bone,  he  laughed.    His  confessor  inquired 

the  reason  of  demeanor  so  unbecoming  his  situation.     "  1  only  laugh  at  my 

own  folly,  my  father,"  answered  Mandrin,   "  who  could  suppose  that  sensibility 

of  pain  should  continue  after  the  nervous  system  had  been  completely  deranged 

by  the  first  blow." 

Note  13.— Keiths  op  Craig,  p.  324 

The  Keiths  of  Craig,  in  Kincardineshire,  descended  from  John  Keith,  fourth 

son  of  William,  second  Earl  Marischal,  who  got  from  his  father,  about  1480,  the 

lands  of  Craig,  and  part  of  Garvoek,  in  that  country.    In  Douglas's  Baronage, 

443  to  445,  is  a  pedigree  of  that  family.     Colonel  Robert  Keith  of  Craig  (the 

!  seventh  in  descent  from  John),  by  his  wife,  Agnes,  daughter  of  Robert  Murray 

'.  of  Murrayshall,  of  the  family  of  Blackbarony,  widow  of  Colonel  Stirling,  of  the 

family  of  Keir,  had  one  son,  viz.  Robert  Keith  of  Craig,  ambassador  to  the  court 

of  Vienna,  afterwards  to  St.  Petersburgh— which  latter  situation  he  held  at  the 

1  accession  of  King  George  III. — who  died  at  Edinburgh  in  1774.    He  married 

i  Margaret,  second  daughter  of  Sir  William  Cunningham  of  Caprington,  by  Janet, 

I  only  child  and  heiress  of  Sir  James  Dick  of  Prestonfleld  ;  and,  among  other 

,  I  children  of  this  marriage,  were  the  well-known  diplomatist.  Sir  Robert  Murray 

'i  I  Keith,  K.  B.,  a  general  in  the  army,  and  for  some  time  ambassador  at  Vienna; 

™  I  Sir  Basil  Keith,  Knight,  captain  in  the  navy,  who  died  governor  of  Jamaica  ;  and 

i  my  excellent  friend,  Anne  Murray  Keith,  who  ultimately  came  into  possession 

i»  i  of  ti.c  family  estates  and  died  not  long  before  the  date  of  the  Introduction 

I  (1831). 

Ij'  Note  14.— Sanctuary  of  Holyrood,  p.  328 

The  reader  may  be  gratified  with  Hector  Boece's  narrative  of  the  original 
foundation  of  the  famous  abbey  of  Holyrood,  or  the  Holy  Cross,  as  given  in 
^ !  Bellenden's  translation  :— 

';  Etfir  deith  of  Alexander  the  First,  his  brothir  David  come  out  of  Ingland,  and 

I  wes  crounit  at  Scone,  the  yeir  of  God  mcxsiv  yeiris,  and  did  gret  justice,  eftir 

J,  his  coronation,  in  all  partis  of  his  realme.    He  had  na  weris  during  the  time  of 

;,  King  Hary,  and  wes  sa  pietuous,  that  he  sat  daylie  in  .iugement,  to  cans  his 
pure  comonis  to  have  justice  :  and  causit  the  actionis  of  his  noblis  to  be  decidit 

;  he  his  othir  jugis.    He  gart  ilk  juge  redres  the  skaithis  that  come  to  the  party 

'  be  his  wrang  sentence  ;  throw  quhilk,  he  decorit  his  realm  with  mony  nobil  actis, 

'  and  ejeckit  the  vennomus  custome  of  riotus  cheir,  quhilk  wes  inducit  afore  be 


470  WA  VERLET  NO  VELS 

Inglismen,  quhen  thai  com  with  Quene  Margaret ;  for  the  samin  wee  nolsiun  tc 
al  gud  maneris,  makand  his  pepil  tender  and  effeminat. 

In  the  fourt  yeir  of  his  regne,  this  nobill  prince  come  to  visie  the  madin  Castell 
of  Edinburgh.  At  this  time,  all  the  boundis  of  Scotland  wer  ful  of  woddis, 
lesouris,  and  niedois  ;  for  the  countre  wes  more  gevin  to  store  of  bestiall  than 
ony  productioun  of  cornis  ;  and  about  this  castell  was  ane  gret  forest,  full  of 
haris,  hindis,  toddis,  and  siclike  maner  of  beistis.  Now  was  the  Rude  Day 
cumin,  callit  the  exaltation  of  the  croee  ;  and,  becaus  the  samin  wes  ane  hie 
solempne  day,  the  king  past  to  his  contemplation.  Eftir  that  the  messis  wer 
done  with  maist  solempnite  and  reverence,  comperit  afore  him  mony  young  and 
insolent  baronis  of  Scotland,  richt  desirus  to  half  sum  pleseir  and  solace,  be 
chace  of  hundis  in  the  said  forest.  At  this  time  wes  with  the  king  ane  man  of 
singulare  and  devoit  life,  namit  Alkwine,  chanuon  eftir  the  ordour  of  Sanct  vm 
Augustine,  quhilk  wes  lang  time  eonfessoure,  afore,  to  King  David  in  Ingland, 
the  time  that  he  wes  Erie  of  Huntingtoun  and  Northumbirland.  This  religious 
man  dissuadit  the  king,  be  mony  reasonis,  to  pas  to  this  huntis  ;  and  allegit  the 
day  wes  so  solempne,  be  reverence  of  the  haly  croce,  that  he  suld  gif  him  erar, 
for  that  day,  to  contemplation  than  ony  othir  exercition.  Nochtheles,  his  dis- 
suasionis  litill  avalit  ;  for  the  king  wes  flnalie  so  provokit,  be  inoportune  solicita 
tioun  of  his  baronis,  that  he  past,  nochtwithstanding  the  solempnite  of  this  day, 
to  his  hountis.  At  last,  quhen  he  wes  cumin  throw  the  vail  that  lyis  to  the  gret 
eist  fra  the  said  castell,  quhare  now  lyis  the  Cannongait,  the  staill  past  throw 
the  wod  with  sic  noyis  and  din  of  rachis  and  bugillis,  that  all  the  bestis  were  rasit 
fra  thair  dennis.  Now  wes  the  king  cumin  to  the  f  ute  of  the  crag,  and  all  his  noblis 
severit,  heir  and  thair.  fra  him  at  thair  game  and  solace  ;  quhen  suddanlie  ap- 
perit  to  his  sicht  the  farist  hart  that  evir  wes  sene  afore  with  levand  creatour. 
The  noyis  and  din  of  this  hart  rinnand,  as  apperit,  with  auful  and  braid  tindis, 
maid  the  kingis  hors  so  eftrayit,  that  na  renyeis  miclit  hald  him  ;  bot  ran,  per- 
force, ouir  mire  and  mossis,  away  with  the  king.  Nochtheles,  the  hart  followit 
so  fast,  that  he  dang  baith  the  king  and  his  hors  to  the  ground.  Than  the  king 
kest  abak  his  handis  betuix  the  tin. lis  of  this  hart,  to  haif  savit  him  fra  the  strak 
tliairof  ;  and  the  Imly  croce  slaid,  incontinent,  in  his  handis.  The  hart  fled  away 
with  great  violence,  and  evanist  in  the  same  place  quhare  now  springis  the  Rud( 
Well.  The  pepyll,  richt  aflfrayitly,  returnit  to  him  out  of  all  partis  of  the  wod 
to  comfort  him  ef ter  his  trubill,  and  fell  on  kneis,  devotly  adoring  the  haly  croce 
for  it  was  not  cumin  but  sum  hevinly  providence,  as  we'ill  apperis,  for  thair  is  ns 
man  can  schaw  of  quhat  mater  it  is  of,  metal  or  tre.  Sone  eftir,  the  king  returnit 
to  his  castel ;  and  in  the  nicht  following,  he  was  admonist,  be  ane  vision  in  his 
sleip,  to  big  ane  abbay  of  channonis  regular  in  the  same  place  quhare  he  gat  th€ 
croce.  Als  sone  as  lie  was  awalkinnit,  he  schew  his  vision  to  Alkwine,  his  con' 
fessour  ;  and  he  na  thing  suspendit  his  gud  mind,  bot  erar  inflammit  him  wit] 
maist  fervent  devotion  thairto.  The  king,  incontinent,  send  his  traist  servandi 
in  France  and  Flanderis,  and  broeht  richt  crafty  masonis  to  big  this  abbay 
syne  dedicat  it  in  the  honour  of  this  lialy  croce.  The  croce  remanitcontinewallj 
in  the  said  abbay,  to  the  time  of  King  I)avid  Bruce  ;  quhilk  was  unhappely  tan' 
with  it  at  Durame,  quhare  it  is  haldin  yit  in  gret  veneration,— Boece,  Book  XI" 
cb.  xvi. 

It  is  by  no  means  clear  what  Scottish  prince  first  built  a  palace,  properly 
called,  in  the  precincts  of  this  renowned  seat  of  sanctity.    The  abbey,  endow: 
by  successive  sovereigns  and  many  powerful  nobles  with  munificent  gifts 
lands  and  tithes,  came,  in  process  of  time,  to  be  one  of  the  most  important  of  thi 
ecclesiastical  corporations  of  Scotland  ;  and  as  early  as  the  days  of  Robert  Bruc< 
parliaments  were  held  occasionally  within  its  buildings.    We  have  evidence  tha 
James  IV.  had  a  royal  lodging  adjoining  to  the  cloister ;  but  it  is  general! 
agreed   that  the  first  considerable  edifice  for  the  accommodation  of  the  royj 
family  erected  here  was  that  of  James  V.,  anno  1525,  great  part  of  which  still  r« 
mains,  and  forms  the  northwestern  side  oi   the  existing   palace.     The  mor 
modern  buildings  which  complete  the  quadrangle  were  erected  by  King  Charle 
II.    The  name  of  the  old  conventual  church  was  used  as  the  parish  church  of  tb 
Canongate  from  the  period  of  the  Reformation,  until  James  II.  claimed  it  fc 
his  chapel  royal,  and  had  it  fitted  up  accordingly  in  a  style  of  splendor  whic 
grievously  outraged  the  feelings  of  his  Presbyterian  subjects.    The  roof  of  tt 
fragment  of  a  once  magnificent  church  fell  in  in  the  year  1768.  and  it  has  i 
mained  ever  since  in  a  state  of  desolation.    For  fuller  particulars,  see  the  Pr 
vincial  Antiquities  of  Scotland  [by  Sir  W.  Scott,  Miscellaneous  Prose  Worii 
ia34,  vol.  vii].,  or  the  Historij  of  Hohjroodhonse  [1829].  by  Mr.  Charles  Jlackie 

The  greater  part  of  this  ancient  palace  is  now  [l&3li,  again  occupied  by 
Majesty  Charles  the  Tenth  of  France,  and  the  rest  of  that  illustrious  faiiU 
which,  in  former  ages  so  closely  connected  by  marriage  and  alliance  with  t 
house  of  Stuart,  seems  to  have  been  destined  to  run  a  similar  career  of  misfi 
tune.    Regviescant  in  pace  I 


NOTES  471 

Note  15.— Bannatynk  Club,  p.  340 

This  club  of  which  the  Author  of  Waverley  has  tlie  honor  to  be  president,  was 
Instituted  in  February,  1833,  for  the  purpose  of  printing  and  publishing  works 
ilhistrativo  of  the  history,  literature,  and  antiquities  of  Scotland.  It  continues 
to  prosper,  and  has  already  rescued  from  oblivion  many  curious  materials  of 
Scottish  history.— The  club  was  dissolved  in  1861.  See  the  volume  of  Adversaria 
presented  in  1867  to  the  members  by  Mr.  Laing,  the  secretary  (^Laing). 

'.  Note  16.— Sommervillb  Family,  p.  338 

The  ancient  Norman  family  of  the  Sommervilles  came  into  this  island  with 
;    A\  i  11  iam  the  Conqueror,  and  established  one  branch  in  Gloucestershire,  another 

I  in  Scotland.  After  the  lapse  of  seven  hundred  years,  the  remaining  possessions 
of  t  liese  two  branches  were  united  in  the  person  of  the  late  Lord  Sommerville, 
on  the  death  of  his  English  kinsman,  the  well-known  author  of  The  Chase. 

INoTE  17.— Lines  from  Horace,  p.  851 
Horace,  Sat.,  bk.  ii.  2.    The  meaning  will  be  best  conveyed  to  the  English 
reader  in  Pope's  imitation  :— 

■.  I  What's  property,  dear  Swift  ?  you  see  it  alter 

i '  From  you  to  me,  from  me  to  Peter  Walter, 

'  Or  in  a  mortgage  prove  a  lawyer's  share, 

II  Or  in  a  jointure  vanish  from  the  heir. 

Shades,  that  to  Bacon  could  retreat  afford. 

Become  the  portion  of  a  booby  lord  ; 

And  Helmsley,  once  proud  Buckingham's  delight. 

Slides  to  a  scrivener  or  to  a  city  knight. 

Let  lands  and  houses  have  what  lords  they  will. 

Let  us  be  flx'd,  and  our  own  masters  stilL 

Note  18.— Steele,  the  Covenanter,  p.  854 

*  I  The  following  extract  from  Swift's  Life  Of  Creichton  gives  the  particulars  of 
I'  j  the  bloody  scene  alluded  to  in  the  text  :— 

lij  Having  drank  hard  one  night,  I  [Creichton]  dreamed  that  I  had  found  Captain 
* !  David  Steele,  a  notorious  rebel,  in  one  of  the  five  farmers'  houses  on  a  mountain 
II ;  in  the  shire  of  Clydesdale,  and  parish  of  Lismahago,  within  eight  miles  of  Ham- 
ilton, a  place  that  I  was  well  acquainted  with.  This  man  was  head  of  the  rebels 
since  the  affair  of  Airs  Moss,  having  succeeded  to  Hackston,  who  had  been 
s  ■•  taken,  and  afterward  hanged,  as  the  reader  has  already  heard  ;  for.  as  to  Robert 
»  ':  Hamilton,  who  was  their  commander-in-chief  at  Bothwell  Bridge,  he  appeared 
•■  no  more  among  them,  but  fled,  as  it  was  believed,  to  Holland. 
-  Steele,  and  his  father  before  him,  held  a  farm  in  the  estate  of  Hamilton,  within 
'   two  or  three  miles  of  that  town.    When  he  betook  himself  to  arms,  the  farm  lay 

*  waste,  and  the  Duke  could  find  no  other  person  who  would  venture  to  take  it ; 
li)  1  whereupon  his  Grace  sent  several  messages  to  Steele,  to  know  the  reason  why 
fi  I  he  kept  the  farm  waste.  The  Duke  received  no  other  answer  than  that  he  would 
■»  'keep  it  waste,  in  spite  of  him  and  the  king  too  ;  whereupon  his  Grace,  at  whose 
jB  i  table  I  had  always  the  honor  to  be  a  welcome  guest,  desired  I  would  use  my  en- 
» I  aeavors  to  destroy  that  rogue,  and  I  would  oblige  him  for  ever. 

* '    To  return  to  my  story.    When  I  awaked  out  of  my  dream,  as  I  had  done  before 

,    In  the  affair  of  Wilson  (and  I  desire  the  same  apology  I  made  in  the  introduction 

to  these  Memoirs  may  serve  for  both,)  I  presently  rose,  and  ordered  thirty-six 

dragoons  to  be  at  the  place  appointed  by  break  of  day.    When  we  arrived  thither, 

I  sent  a  party  to  each  of  the  five  farmers'  houses.    This  villain  Steele  had  mur- 

r^ered  above  forty  of  the  king's  subjects  in  cold  blood,  and,  as  I  was  informed, 

I    had  often  laid  snares  to  entrap  me ;  but  it  happened  that,  although  he  usually 

kept  a  gang  to  attend  him,  yet  at  this  time  he  had  none,  when  he  stood  in  the 

:'    greatest  need.    One  of  the  party  found  him  in  one  of  the  farmers'  houses,  just 

:    asl  liappened  to  dream.    The  dragoons  first  searched  all  the  rooms  below  with- 

»   out  success,  till  two  of  them.,  hearing  somebody  stirring  over  their  heads,  went 

up  a  pair  of  turppike  stairs,    Steele  had  put  on  his  clothes  while  the  search  waa 


472  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

making  below ;  the  chamber  where  he  lay  was  called  the  Chamber  of  Depsp. 
which  is  the  name  given  to  a  room  where  the  laird  lies,  when  he  comes  to  a  ten 
ant's  house.  Steele,  suddenly  opening  the  door,  tired  a  blunderbuss  down  at  tbe 
two  dragoons  as  they  were  coming  up  the  stairs  :  but  the  bullets  grazing  against 
the  side  of  the  turnpike,  only  wounded,  and  did  not  kill,  them.  Then  Slt^  1^ 
violently  threw  himself  down  the  stairs  among  them,  and  made  towards  the  (.h  - 
to  save  his  life,  but  lost  it  upon  the  spot ;  for  the  dragoons  who  guarded  i  ^ 
house  despatched  him  with  their  broadswords.t  I  was  not  with  the  party  wIj-  - 
he  was  killed,  being  at  that  time  employed  in  searching  at  one  of  the  other  fom 
houses,  but  I  soon  found  what  had  happened,  by  hearing  the  noise  of  the  shoi 
made  with  the  blunderbuss  ;  from  whence  I  returned  straight  to  Lanark,  and 
immediately  sent  one  of  the  dragoons  express  to  General  Drummond  at  Ediu. 
buTgh.—SwifVs  Woi-ks,  vol.  xii.  i^Memoirs  of  Captain  John  Creichton,)  pasef 
57-59,  edit.  Edinb.  1834.  ^  ^ 

Note  19.— Iron  Rasp,  p.  378 

The  ingenious  Mr.  R.  Chambers's  Traditions  of  Edinburgh  give  the  following 
account  of  the  forgotten  rasp  or  risp  :— 

This  house  had  a  pin  or  risp  at  the  door,  instead  of  the  more  modern  conven 
ience,  a  knocker.  The  pin  canonized  [rendered  interesting  by  the  figure  whic' 
it  makes]  in  Scottish  song  was  formed  of  a  small  rod  of  iron,  twisted  or  othei 
wise  notched,  which  was  placed  perpendicularly,  starting  out  a  little  from  th 
door,  bearing  a  small  ring  of  the  same  metal,  which  an  applicant  for  admittanc 
drew  rapidly  up  and  down  the  nicks,  so  as  to  produce  a  grating  sound.  Somt 
times  the  rod  was  simply  stretched  across  the  vizzying  hole,  a  convenient  apei 
ture  through  which  the  porter  could  take  cognizance  of  the  person  applying  ;  if 
which  case  it  acted  also  as  a  stanchion.  These  were  almost  all  disused  aboul 
sixty  years  ago,  when  knockers  were  generally  substituted  as  more  genteel 
But  knockers  at  that  time  did  not  long  remain  in  repute,  though  they  have  neve 
been  altogether  superseded,  rven  by  bells,  in  the  Old  Town.  The  comparativ! 
merits  of  knockers  and  pins  was  for  a  long  time  a  subject  of  doubt,  and  manl 
knockers  got  their  heads  twisted  off  in  the  course  of  the  dispute  [vol.  i,  pp.  "~ 
235,  ed.  1825.] 

Note  20.— Sallsbury  Crags,  p.  378 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Bowls  derives  the  name  of  these  crags,  as  of  the  episcopal  city  i 
the  west  of  England,  from  the  same  root ;  both,  in  his  opinion,  which  he  v€ 
ably  defends  and  illustrates,  having  been  the  sites  of  druidical  temples. 

Note  21.— Black  Watch,  p.  378 

The  well-known  original  designation  of  the  gallant  42d  Regiment.    Being 
first  corps  raised  for  the  royal  service  in  the  Highlands,  and  allowed  to  ret 
their  national  garb,  they  were  thus  named  from  the  contrast  which  their 
tartans  furnished  to  the  scarlet  and  white  of  the  other  regiments. 

Note  22.— Countess  op  Eglinton,  p.  385 

Susannah  Kennedy,  daughter  of  Sir  Archibald  Kennedy  of  Cullean.  Bart.. 
Elizabeth  Lesly,  daughter  of  David  Lord  Newark,  third  wife  of  Alexander  nil 
Earl  of  Eglinton,  and  mother  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  earls.  She  survived  t 
husband,  who  died  1729,  no  less  than  fifty- seven  [one]  years,  and  died  March  17 
in  her  ninety-first  year.  Allan  Ramsay's  Gentle  Shepherd,  published  1726,  is  dfl 
icated  to  her.  in  verse,  by  Hamilton  of  Bangour.  1 

The  following  account  of  this  distinguished  lady  is  taken  from  Boswell's  £«| 
of  Johnson  by  Mr.  Croker  :— 

Lady  Margaret  Dalrymple,  only  daughter  of  John  Earl  of  Stair,  married  j 

*  Or  chamber  of  state ;  so  called  from  the  dais,  or  canopy  and  elevation 
floor,  which  distinguished  the  part  of  old  halls  which  was  occupied  by  thosej 
high  rank.    Hence  the  phrase  was  obliquely  used  to  signify  state  in  general. 

t  Wodrow  gives  a  different  account  of  this  exploit.     "In  December  this  ; 
(1686,)  David  Steil,  in  the  parish  of  Lismahagow,  was  surprised  in  the  fleldsl 
Lieutenant  Creichton,  and  after  his  surrender  of  himself  on  quarters,  he  wasi 
a  very  little  time  most  barbarously  shot,  and  lies  buried  in  the  churchy;! 


NOTES  478 

1700,  to  Hugh,  third  Earl  of  Loudoun.  She  died  in  1777,  aged  [nearly]  one  hun- 
dred. Of  this  venerable  lady,  and  of  the  Countess  of  Eglintoune,  whom  Johnson 
visited  next  day,  he  thus  speaks  in  his  Journey  .•— '•  Length  of  life  is  distributed 
impartially  to  very  different  modes  of  life,  ib  very  different  climates  ;  and  the 
mountains  have  no  greater  examples  of  age  and  health  than  the  Lowlands, 
where  I  was  introduced  to  two  ladies  of  high  quality,  one  of  whom  (Lady  Lou- 
doun,) in  her  ninety-fourth  year,  presided  at  her  table  with  the  full  exercise  of 
all  her  powers,  and  the  other  (Lady  Eglintoun)  had  attained  her  eighty-fourth 
year,  without  any  diminution  of  her  vivacity,  and  little  reason  to  accuse  time  of 
depredation  on  her  beauty.  .  .  . 

"  Lady  Eglintoune,  though  she  was  now  in  her  eighty-fifth  year,  and  had  lived 
in  the  retirement  of  the  country  for  almost  half  a  century,  was  still  a  very 
agreeable  woman.  She  was  of  the  noble  house  of  Kennedy,  and  had  all  the 
elevation  which  the  consciousness  of  such  birth  inspires.  Her  figure  was  ma- 
jestic, her  manners  high-bred, '  her  reading  extensive,  and  her  conversation 
elegant.  She  had  been  the  admiration  of  the  gay  circles  of  life,  and  the  patron- 
ess of  poets.  Dr.  Johnson  was  delighted  with  his  reception  here.  Her  princi- 
gles  in  church  and  state  were  congenial  with  his.  She  knew  all  his  merits,  and 
ad  heard  much  of  him  from  her  son.  Earl  Alexander,  who  loved  to  cultivate  the 
acquaintance  of  men  of  talents  in  every  department.  .  .  . 

"  In  the  course  of  our  conversation  this  day  it  came  out  that  Lady  Eglintoune 
was  married  the  year  before  Dr.  Johnson  was  born  ;  upon  which  she  graciously 
said  to  him  that  she  might  have  been  his  mother,  and  that  she  now  adopted  him  ; 
and  when  we  were  going  away,  she  embraced  him,  saying,  '  My  dear  son,  fare- 
well ! '  My  friend  was  much  pleased  with  this  day's  entertainment,  and  owned 
tiiat  I  had  done  well  to  force  him  out.  .  .  . 

"  At  Sir  Alexander  Dick's,  from  that  absence  of  mind  to  which  every  man  is  at 
times  subject,  I  told,  in  a  blundering  manner.  Lady  Eglintoune's  complimentary 
adoption  of  Dr.  Johnson  as  her  son  ;  for  I  unfortunately  stated  that  her  ladyship 
adopted  him  as  her  son,  in  consequence  of  her  having  been  married  the  year 
aftt'i-he  was  born.  Dr.  Johnson  instantly  corrected  me.  "  Sir,  don't  you  per- 
ceive that  you  are  defaming  the  Countess?  For,  supposing  me  to  be  "her  son, 
an. I  that  she  was  not  married  till  the  year  after  my  birth,  I  must  have  been  her 
initiiral  son."  A  young  lady  of  quality  who  was  present  very  handsomely  said, 
•  :\Iight  not  the  son  have  justified  the  fault  ?  '  My  friend  was  much  flattered  by 
tliis  compliment,  which  he  never  forgot.  When  in  more  than  ordinary  spirits, 
and  talking  of  his  journey  in  Scotland,  he  has  called  to  me,  "  Boswell,  what  was 
t  it  that  the  young  lady  of  quality  said  of  me  at  Sir  Alexander  Dick's  ?  '  Nobody 
'.[    will  doubt  that  I  was  happy  in  repeating  it." 

Note  23.— Earl  of  Winton,  p.  388 

The  incident  here  alluded  to  is  thus  narrated  in  Nichols's  Progresses  of  James 
1.,  vol.  iii.  p.  306. 

J I       The  family  (of  Winton)  owed  its  first  elevation  to  the  union  of  Sir  Christopher 

,.j    Seton  with  a  sister  of  King  Robert  Bruce.    With  King  James  VI.  they  acquired 

great  favor,  who,  having  created  his  brother  Earl  of  Dunfermline  in  1599,  made 

i    Robert,  seventh  Lord  Seton,  Earl  of  Wintoun  in  1600.    Before  the  King's  acces- 

;    sion  to  the  English  throne,  his  Majesty  and  the  Queen  were  frequently  at  Seton, 

,;    where  the  Earl  ever  kept  a  very  hospitable  table,  at  which  all  foreigners  of  quality 

were  entertained  on  their  visits  to  Scotland.    His  lordship  died  in  1603,  and  was 

;  j    buried  on  the  5th  of  April,  on  the  very  day  the  King  left  Edinburgh  for  England. 

i!  1    His  Majesty,  we  are  told,  was  pleased  to  rest  himself  at  the  south-west  round  of 

:  I    the  orchard  of  Seton,  on  the  highway,  till  the  funeral  was  over,  that  he  might 

;:  \    not  withdraw  the  noble  company  ;  and  he  said  that  he  had  lost  a  good,  faithful, 

■    and  loyal  subject. 

Note  24.— MacGregor  of  Glenstrae,  p.  389 

The  2  of  Octr  :  (1603)  Allaster  MacGregor  of  Glanstrae  tane  be  the  laird  Arkyn- 
•  I  les,  hot  escapit  againe  ;  bot  after  taken  be  the  Earle  of  Argyll  the  4  of 
, ;  Januarii,  and  brocht  to  Edr  :  the  9  of  Januar  :  1604,  wt :  18  mae  of  hes  friendes 
,.  '.  MacGregors.  He  wes  convoyit  to  Berwick  be  the  gaird,  conform  to  the  Earle's 
:  ;    promes  ;  for  he  promesit  to  put  him  out  of  Scottis  grund.    Sua  he  keipit  ane 

Hielandman's  promes,  in  respect  he  sent  the  gaird  to  convoy  him  out  of  Scottis 
,  .  grund  ;  bot  yai  wer  not  directit  to  pairt  wt:  him,  bot  to  fetche  him  bak  againe 
:  I  The  18  of  Januar,  he  came  at  evin  againe  to  Edinburghe  ;  and  upone  the  20  day, 
■  1  he  wes  hangit  at  the  crosse,  and  ij  of  his  freindes  and  name,  upone  ane  gallows  : 
j^  i   himself  being  chieff,  he  wes  hangit  his  awin  hight  above  the  rest  of  hes  freindig. 

"-Birrell's  Diary,  in  Dalzell's  Fragments  of  Scottish  History,  pp.  60,  61. 


474  WA VEELEY  NOVELS 

Note  25.— Highland  Bridges,  p.  397 

This  is,  or  was  at  least,  a  necessary  accomplishment.  In  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  districts  of  the  Highlands  was,  not  many  years  since,  a  bridge  bearing 
this  startling  caution,  "  Keep  to  the  right  side,  the  left  being  dangerous. 

Note  36.— Loch  Awe,  p.  898 

Loch  Awe,  upon  the  banks  of  which  the  scene  of  action  took  place,  is  thirty- 
four  miles  In  length.  The  north  side  is  bounded  by  wide  muirs  and  inconsider- 
able hills,  which  occupy  an  extent  of  country  from  twelve  to  twenty  miles  in 
breadth,  and  the  whole  of  this  space  is  enclosed  as  by  a  circumvallation.  Upon 
the  north  it  is  barred  by  Loch  Eitive,  on  the  south  by  Loch  Awe,  and  on  the  east 
by  the  deep  and  dreadful  pass  of  Brandir,  through  which  an  arm  of  the  latter 
lake  opens,  afc  about  four  miles  from  its  eastern  extremity,  and  discharges  the 
river  Awe  into  the  former.  The  pass  is  about  three  miles  in  length  ;  its  east  side 
is  bounded  by  the  almost  inaccessible  steeps  which  form  the  base  of  the  vast 
and  rugged  mountain  of  Cruachan,  The  craigs  rise  in  some  places  almost  per- 
pendicularly from  the  water,  and  for  their  chief  extent  show  no  space  nor  level 
at  their  feet,  but  a  rough  and  narrow  edge  of  stony  beach.  Upon  the  whole  of 
these  cliiTs  grew  a  thick  and  interwoven  wood  of  all  kinds  of  trees,  both  timber, 
dwarf,  and  coppice  ;  no  track  existed  through  the  wilderness,  but  a  winding 
path,  which  sometimes  crept  along  the  precipitous  height,  and  sometimes  des- 
cended in  a  straight  pass  along  the  margin  of  the  water.  Near  the  extremity  of 
the  defile,  a  narrow  level  opened  between  the  water  and  the  crag  ;  but  a  great 
part  of  this,  as  well  as  the  preceding  steeps,  was  formerly  enveloped  in  a  thicket, 
which  showed  little  faciUty  to  the  feet  of  any  but  the  martins  and  wild-cats. 
Along  the  west  side  of  the  pass  lies  a  wall  of  sheer  and  barren  crags.  From 
behind  they  rise  in  rough,  uneven,  and  heathy  declivities,  out  of  the  wide  muir 
before  mentioned,  between  Loch  Eitive  aad  Loch  Awe  ;  but  in  front  they  ter- 
minate abruptly  in  the  most  frightful  precipices,  which  form  the  whole  side  of 
the  pass,  and  descend  at  one  fall  into  the  water  which  fills  its  trough.  At  the 
north  end  of  this  barrier,  and  at  the  termination  of  the  pass,  lies  that  part  of  the 
cliff  which  is  called  Craiganuni ;  at  its  foot  the  arm  of  the  lake  gradually  con- 
tracts its  water  to  a  very  narrow  space,  and  at  length  terminates  at  two  rocks 
called  the  Rocks  of  Brandir,  which  form  a  straight  channel,  something  resembl- 
ing the  lock  of  a  canal.  From  this  outlet  there  is  a  continual  descent  towards 
Loch  Eitive,  and  from  hence  the  river  Awe  pours  out  its  current  in  a  furious 
stream,  foaming  over  a  bed  broken  with  holes,  and  cumbered  with  masses  of 
granite  and  whinstone. 

If  ever  there  was  a  bridge  near  Craiganuni  in  ancient  times,  it  must  have  been 
at  the  Rocks  of  Brandir.  From  the  days  of  Wallace  to  those  of  General  Wade, 
there  were  never  passes  of  this  kind  but  in  places  of  great  necessity,  too  narrow  ^, 
for  a  boat  and  too  wide  for  a  leap  ;;  even  then  they  were  but  an  unsafe  footway  j  ff? 
formed  of  the  trunks  of  trees  placed  transversely  from  rock  to  rock,  unstripped 
of  their  bark,  and  destitute  of  either  plank  or  rail.  For  such  a  structure,  there 
is  no  place  in  the  neighborhood  of  Craiganuni  but  at  the  rocks  above  mentioned. 
In  the  lake  and  on  the  river,  the  water  is  far  too  wide ;  but  at  the  strait,  the 
space  is  not  greater  than  might  be  crossed  by  a  tall  mountain  pine,  and  the  rocks 
on  either  side  are  formed  by  nature  like  a  pier.  That  this  point  was  always  a 
place  of  passage  is  rendered  probable  by  its  facility,  and  the  use  of  recent  times. 
It  is  not  long  since  it  was  the  common  gate  of  the  country  on  either  side  the  i 
river  and  the  pass :  the  mode  of  crossing  is  yet  in  the  memory  of  people  i^. 
living,  and  was  performed  by  a  little  currach  moored  on  either  side  the  water,  ■J«f 
and  a  stout  cable  fixed  across  the  stream  from  bank  to  bank,  by  which  the  M'fe 
passengers  drew  themselves  across  in  the  manner  still  practised  in  places  of  the  I 
same  nature.  It  is  no  argument  against  the  existence  of  a  bridge  in  former  MJithe 
times,  that  the  above  method  only  existed  in  ours,  rather  than  a  passage  of  that  Wjf"' 
kind  which  would  seem  the  more  improved  expedient.  The  contradiction  is  suflR-  K^ 
ciently  accounted  for  by  the  decay  of  timber  in  the  neighborhood.  Of  old.  both  Bj*"' 
oaks  and  firs  of  an  immense  size  abounded  within  a  very  inconsiderable  distance  ;  ^pte 
but  it  is  now  many  years  since  the  destruction  of  the  iforests  of  Glen  Eitive  and '] 
Glen  Urcha  has  deprived  the  country  of  all  the  trees  of  sufficient  size  to 
the  strait  of  Brandir  ;  and  it  is  probable  that  the  currach  was  not  introduced  till(Bt  H 
the  want  of  timber  had  disenabled  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  from  maintain  ^Vil 
ing  a  bridge.  It  only  further  remains  to  be  noticed  that,  at  some  distance  below ^Pfki 
the  Rocks  of  Brandir,  there  was  formerly  a  ford,  which  was  used  for  cattle  in^^' 
the  memory  of  people  yet  living  ;  from  the  narrowness  of  the  passage,  the  force] 
of  the  stream,  and  the  broken  bed  of  the  river,  it  was,  however,  a  dangerous! 
pass,  and  could  only  be  attempted  with  safety  at  leisure  and  by  experience.— 1 
Notes  to  The.  Bridal  of  Caolchaii-n  [pp.  277-279,  by  John  Hay  Allan.] 


iltl 
Btl; 


NOTES  475 

Note  27.— Battle  betwixt  Bruce  and  Macdougal  of  Lorn.  p.  3P9 

But  the  King,  whose  dear-bought  experience  in  war  had  taught  him  extreme 
caution,  remained  in  the  Braes  of  Balquliidder  till  he  had  acquired  by  his  spies, 
and  outskirrers  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  disposition  of  the  army  of  Lorn,  and 
the  intention  of  its  leader.  He  then  divided  his  force  into  two  columns,  entrust- 
ing the  command  of  the  first,  in  which  he  placed  his  archers  and  lightest  armed 
troops,  to  Sir  James  Douglas,  whilst  he  him.self  took  the  leading  of  the  other, 
which  consisted  principally  of  his  knights  and  barons.  On  aii]>roai'iiiiiq-  the  de- 
file. Bruce  despatched  Sir  James  Douglas  by  a  pathway  wlii.h  tlie  fii^my  had 
neglected  to  occupy,  with  directions  to  advance  silently,  and  Kain  tlic  lieights 
above  and  in  front  of  the  hilly  ground  where  the  men  of  Lorn  \vi-vi-  t  om-ealed  ; 
and,  having  ascertained  that  this  movement  had  been  executed  with  success,  he 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  own  division,  and  fearlessly  letl  his  men  into  the 
defile.  Here,  prepared  as  he  was  for  what  was  to  take  place,  it  was  diftii-ult  to 
prevent  a  temporary  panic,  when  the  yell,  which,  to  this  day,  invariably  pre- 
cedes the  assault  of  the  mountaineer,  burst  from  the  rugged  bosom  of  Beii  Cru- 
achan  ;  and  the  woods  which,  the  moment  before,  had  waved  in  silence  and  .soli- 
tude, gave  forth  their  birth  of  steel-clad  warriors,  and,  in  an  instant,  became  in- 
stinct with  the  dreadful  vitality  of  war.  But,  although  appalled  and  checked  for 
a  brief  space  by  the  suddenness  of  tlie  assault,  and  the  masses  of  rock  which  the 
enemy  rolled  down  from  the  precipices,  Bruce,  at  the  head  of  his  division,  pressed 
up  the  side  of  the  mountain.  Whilst  this  party  assaulted  the  men  of  Lorn  with 
the  utmost  fury,  Sir  James  Douglas  and  his  party  shouted  suddenly  upon  the 
heights  in  their  front,  showering  down  their  arrows  upon  them,  and,  when  these 
missiles  were  exhausted,  attacking  them  with  their  swords  and  laattle-axes.  The 
consequence  of  such  an  attack,  both  in  front  and  rear,  was  the  total  discomfiture 
of  the  army  of  Lorn  ;  and  the  circumstances  to  which  this  chief  had  so  confid- 
ently looked  forward,  as  rendering  the  destruction  of  Bruce  almost  inevitable, 
were  now  turned  with  fatal  effect  against  himself.  His  great  superiority  of 
numbers  cumbered  and  impeded  his  movements.  Thrust,  by  the  double  as- 
sault, and  by  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  ground,  into  such  narrow  room  as  the 
pass  afforded,  and  driven  to  fury  by  finding  themselves  cut  to  pieces  in  detail, 
without  the  power  of  resistance,  the  men  of  Lorn  fled  towards  Loch  Eitive,  where 
a  bridge  thrown  over  the  Awe,  and  supported  upon  two  immense  rocks,  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Rocks  of  Brandir,  formed  the  solitary  communication  between 
the  side  of  the  river  where  the  battle  took  place  and  the  country  of  Lorn.  Their 
object  was  to  gain  tlie  bridge,  which  was  composed  entirely  of  wood,  and,  hav- 
ing availed  themselves  of  it  in  their  retreat,  to  destroy  it,  and  thus  throw  the  im- 
passable torrent  of  the  Awe  between  them  and  their  enemies.  But  their  inten- 
tion was  instantly  detected  by  Douglas,  who,  rushing  down  from  the  high 
grounds  at  the  head  of  his  archers  and  light-armed  foresters,  attacked  the  body 
of  the  mountaineers,  which  had  occupied  the  bridge,  and  drove  them  from  it 
with  great  slaughter,  so  that  Bruce  and  his  division,  on  coming  up,  passed  it 
without  molestation  ;  and,  this  last  resource  being  taken  from  them,  the  army  of 
Lorn  were,  in  a  few  hours,  literally  cut  to  pieces,  whilst  their  chief,  who  occupied 
Loch  Eitive  vvith  his  fleet,  saw,  from  his  ships,  the  discomfiture  of  his  men,  and 
found  it  impossible  to  give  them  the  least  assistance. — [Patrick  Eraser]  Tytler's 
"Life  of  Bruce"  [in  Scottish  Worthies  (1831-33),  vol.  i.  413-415]. 

Note  28.— Massacre  op  Glencoe,  p.  421. 

The  following  succinct  account  of  this  too  celebrated  event  may  be  suflacient 
for  this  place  :— 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1693,  an  action  of  unexanipled  barbarity  disgraced 
the  government  of  King  William  III.  in  Scotland.  In  the  August  preceding,  a 
proclamation  had  been  issued,  offering  an  indemnity  to  such  insurgents  as  should 
take  the  oaths  to  the  king  and  queen,  on  or  before  the  last  day  of  December  ; 
and  the  chiefs  of  such  tribes  as  had  been  in  arms  for  James  soon  after  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  proclamation.  But  Macdonakl  of  Glencoe  was  prevented  by  ac- 
cident, rather  than  design,  from  tendering  his  submission  within  the  limited 
time.  In  the  end  of  December  he  went  to  Colonel  Hill,  who  commanded  the  gar- 
rison in  Fort  William,  to  take  the  oaths  of  allegiance  to  the  government ;  and  the 
latter  having  furnished  him  with  a  letter  to  Sir  Colin  Campbell,  sheriff  of  the 
county  of  Argyll,  directed  him  to  repair  immediately  to  Inverary,  to  make  his 
submission  in  a  legal  manner  before  that  magistrate.  But  the  way  to  Inverary 
lay  through  almost  impassable  mountains,  the  season  was  extremely  rigorous, 
and  the  whole  country  was  covered  with  a  deep  snow.  So  eager,  however,  was 
Macdonald  to  take  the  oaths  before  the  limited  time  should  expire,  that,  though 
the  road  lay  within  half  a  mile  of  his  own  house,  he  stopped  not  to  visit  his  fam- 


476  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ily,  and,  after  various  obstructions,  arrived  at  Inverary.  The  time  had  elapsed, 
and  the  sheriff  hesitated  tr  receive  his  submission  ;  but  Macdonald  prevailed  by 
his  importunities,  and  even  tears,  in  inducing  that  functionary  to  administer  to 
him  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  to  certify  the  cause  of  his  delay.  At  this  time  Sir^ 
John  Dalrymple,  afterwards  Earl  of  Stair,  being  in  attendance  upon  William  aS' 
Secretary  of  State  for  Scotland,  took  advantage  of  Macdonald's  neglecting  to  take 
the  oaths  within  the  time  prescribed,  and  procured  from  the  king  a  warrant  off 
military  execution  against  that  chief  and  his  wliole  clan.  This  was  done  at  the 
^stigation  of  the  Earl  of  Breadalbane,  whose  lands  the  Glencoe  men  had  plun- 
dered, and  whose  treachery  to  government  in  negotiating  with  the  Highland  clans 
Macdonald  himself  had  exposed.  The  king  was  accordingly  persuaded  that; 
Glencoe  was  the  main  obstacle  to  the  pacittcation  of  the  Highlands  ;  and  the  fact 
of  the  unfortunate  chief's  submission  having  been  concealed,  the  sanguinary 
orders  for  proceeding  to  military  execution  against  his  clan  were  in  consequence 
obtained.  The  warrant  was  both  signed  and  countersigned  by  the  king's  own 
hand,  and  the  Secretary  urged  the  officers  who  commanded  in  the  Highlands  to 
execute  their  orders  with  the  utmost  rigor.  Campbell  of  Glenlyon,  a  captain  in 
Argyll's  regiment,  and  two  subalterns,  were  ordered  to  repair  to  Glencoe  on  the 
first  of  February  with  a  hundred  and  twenty  men.  Campbell,  being  uncle  to 
young  Macdonald's  wife,  was  received  by  the  father  with  all  manner  of  friend- 
ship and  hospitality.  The  men  were  lodged  at  free  quarters  in  the  houses  of  his 
tenants,  and  received  the  kindest  entertainment.  Till  the  13th  of  the  month  thi 
troops  lived  in  the  utmost  harmony  and  familiarity  with  the  people  ;  and  on  th( 
very  night  of  the  massacre  the  officers  passed  the  evening  at  cards  in  Mac 
donald's  house.  In  the  night  Lieutenant  Lindsay,  with  a  party  of  .soldiers,  calle(' 
in  a  friendly  manner  at  his  door,  and  was  instantly  admitted.  Blacdonakl,  whil 
in  the  act  of  rising  to  receive  his  guest,  was  shot  dead  through  the  back  with  two 
bullets.  His  wife  had  already  dressed  ;  but  she  was  stripped  naked  by  the 
soldiers,  who  tore  the  rings  off  her  fingers  with  their  teeth.  The  slaughter  now 
became  general,  and  neither  age  nor  infirmity  was  spared.  Some  women,  in  de^ 
fending  their  children,  were  killed  ;  boys,  imploring  mercy,  were  shot  dead  by 
officers  on  whose  knees  they  hung.  In  one  place  nine  persons,  as  they  sat  enjoy 
ing  themselves  at  table,  were  butchered  by  the  soldiers.  In  Inverriggon,  Camp 
bell's  own  quarters,  nine  men  were  first  bound  by  the  soldiers,  and  then  shot  a1 
intervals,  one  by  one.  Nearly  forty  persons  were  massacred  by  the  troops  ;  anc 
several  who  fled  to  the  mountains  perished  by  famine  and  the  inclemency  of  the 
season.  Those  who  escaped  owed  their  lives  to  a  tempestuous  night.  Lieuten 
ant-Colonel  Hamilton,  who  had  received  the  charge  of  the  execution  from  Dal 
rymple,  was  on  his  march  with  four  hundred  men,  to  guard  all  the  passes  front 
the  valley  of  Glencoe  ;  but  he  was  obliged  to  stop  by  the  severity  of  the  weather 
which  proved  the  safety  of  the  unfortunate  clan.  Next  day  he  entered  the  valley 
laid  the  houses  in  ashes,  and  carried  away  the  cattle  and  spoil,  which  were  divi 
ded  among  the  officers  and  soldiers.— Article  "  Britain,"  Encyclopaedia  Britan 
nica.  Eighth  Edition. 

Note  29 — Fidelity  of  the  Highlanders,  p.  431 

Of  the  strong,  undeviating  attachment  of  the  Highlanders  to  the  person,  am 
their  deference  to  the  will  or  commands,  of  their  chiefs  and  superiors,  tliei 
rigid  adherence  to  duty  and  principle,  and  their  chivalrous  acts  of  self-devotioi 
to  these  in  the  face  of  danger  and  death,  there  are  many  instances  recorded  ii 
General  Stewart  of  Garth's  interesting  Sketches  of  the  Highlander  and  Highla.ru 
Regiments,  which  might  not  inaptly  supply  parallels  to  the  deeds  of  the  Roman 
themselves,  at  the  era  when  Rome  was  in  "her  glory.  The  following  instances  o 
such  are  worthy  of  being  here  quoted  : 

In  the  year  1795,  a  serious  disturbance  broke  out  in  Glasgow  among  the  Brei 
albane  Fencibles.  Several  men  having  boon  confino.l  an<l  throatened  with  coi 
poral  puni-shment,  considerable  discniitont  and  irrilaliun  wiro  excited  amoi 
their  comrades,  which  increased  t<i  su.h  vi..iciioo.  that,  \v\fn  some  men  wei 
confined  in  the  guard-house,  a  great  iiroiiorl  i.ni  c,f  tlio  ro-iniont  rushed  out 
forcibly  released  the  prisoners.  This  violation  of  military  discipline  was  not 
be  passed  over,  and  accordingly  measures  were  immediately  taken  to  secure  t 
ringleaders.  But  so  many  were  equally  concerned,  that  it  was  difficult,  if  m 
impossible,  to  fix  the  crimeon  any,  as  being  more  prominently  guilty.  And  he; 
was  shown  a  trait  of  character  worthy  of  a  hotter  cause,  and  which  orii::' 
from  a  feeling  alive  to  the  disgrace  of  a  degrading  punislunont.  Tho  soMj: 
ing  made  sensible  of  the  nature  of  their  misocinduct,  and  llio  o. .riso(iuont 
sity  of  public  example,  several  men  voluntnrihj  offered  thrinsvh-is  to  stand  trial 
and  suffer  the  sentence  of  the  law  as  an  atonement  for  the  whole.  These  mei 
were  accordingly  marched  to  Edinburgh  Castle,  tried,  and  four  condemned  to  b 


NOTES  471 

shot     Three  of  them  were  afterwards  reprieved,  and  the  fourth,  Alexander 
Sutherland,  was  shot  on  Musselburgh  aauds.  .        ^       ^      j- 

The  following  semi-official  account  of  this  unfortunate  misunderstandmg  was 
published  at  the  time : —  „    ,     ,.   ,  » it. 

"  During  the  afternoon  of  Monday,  when  a  private  of  the  hght  company  of  the 
Breadaibane  Fencibles,  who  had  been  confined  for  a  military  offence,  was  re- 
leased by  that  company,  and  some  other  companies  who  had  assembled  m  a 
tumultuous  manner  before  the  guard-house,  uo  person  whatever  was  hurt,  and 
no  violence  offered  ;  and  however  unjustifiable  the  proceedmgs,  it  ongmatednot 
from  any  disrespect  or  ill-will  to  their  ottlcers,  but  from  a  mistaken  point  of 
honor  iu  a  particular  set  of  men  in  the  battalion,  who  thought  themselves  dis- 
graced by  the  impending  punishment  of  one  of  their  number.  The  men  have, 
in  every  respect,  since  that  period  conducted  themselves  with  the  greatest  regu- 
larity and  strict  subordination.  The  whole  of  the  battalion  seemed  extremely 
sensible  of  the  improper  conduct  of  such  as  were  concerned,  whatever  regret 
they  might  feel  for  the  fate  of  the  few  individuals  who  had  so  readily  given 
themselves  up  as  prisoners,  to  be  tried  for  their  own  and  others'  misconduct." 

On  the  march  to  Edinburgh,  a  circumstance  occurred,  the  more  worthy  of 
notice,  as  it  shows  a  strong  principle  of  honor  and  lidelity  to  his  word  and  to  his 
officer  in  a  common  Highland  soldier.  One  of  the  men  stated  to  the  officer  com- 
manding the  party,  that  he  knew  what  his  fate  would  be,  but  that  he  had  left 
business  of  the  utmost  importance  to  a  friend  in  Glasgow,  which  he  wished  to 
transact  before  his  death  ;  that,  as  to  himself,  he  was  fully  prepared  to  meet  his 
fato  ;  but  with  regard  to  his  friend,  he  could  not  die  in  peace  unless  the  business 
was  settled  ;  and  that,  if  the  officer  would  suffer  him  to  return  to  Glasgow,  a 
few  hours  there  would  be  sufficient,  and  he  would  join  him  before  he  reached 
Edinburgh,  and  march  as  a  prisoner  with  the  party.  Tlie  soldier  added.  "You 
have  known  me  since  I  was  a  child  ;  you  know  my  country  and  kindred,  and  you 
may  believe  I  shall  never  bring  you  to  any  blame  by  a  breach  of  the  promise  I 
now  make,  to  be  with  you  in  full  time  to  be  delivered  up  in  the  Castle."  This 
was  a  startling  proposal  to  the  officer,  who  was  a  judicious,  humane  man,  and 
knew  perfectly  his  risk  and  responsibility  in  yielding  to  such  an  extraordinary 
application.  However,  his  confidence  was  such,  that  he  complied  with  the  re- 
quest of  the  prisoner,  who  returned  to  Glasgow  at  night,  settled  his  business, 
and  left  the  town  before  daylight  to  redeem  his  pledge.  He  took  a  long  circuit 
to  avoid  being  seen,  apprehended  as  a  deserter,  and  sent  back  to  Glasgow,  as 
probably  his  account  of  his  officer's  indulsrence  would  not  have  been  credited. 
In  consequence  of  this  caution,  and  the  lengthened  march  through  woods  and 
over  hills  by  an  unfrequented  route,  there  was  no  appearance  of  him  at  the  hour 
appointed.  The  perplexity  of  the  officer  when  he  reached  the  neighborhood  of 
Edinburgh  mav  be  easily  imagined.  He  moved  forward  slowly  indeed,  but  no 
soldier  appeared  :  and  unable  to  delay  any  longer,  he  marched  up  to  the  Castle, 
and  as  he  was  delivering  over  the  prisoners,  but  before  any  report  was  given  in, 
Macmartin  the  absent  soldier,  rushed  in  among  his  fellow-prisoners,  a'l  pale 
with  anxiety  and  fatigue,  and  breathless  with  apprehension  of  the  consequences 
in  which  his  delay  might  have  involved  his  benefactor. 

In  whatever  light  the  conduct  of  the  officer  (my  respectable  friend.  Major 
Colin  Campbell)  may  be  considered,  either  bv  military  men  or  others,  in  this 
memorable  exemplification  of  the  characteristic  principle  of  his  countrymen, 
fidelity  to  their  word,  it  cannot  but  be  wished  that  the  soldier's  magnanimous 
self-devotion  had  been  taken  as  an  atonement  for  his  own  misconduct  and  that 
of  the  whole,  who  also  had  made  a  high  sacrifice,  in  the  voluntary  offer  of  their 
lives  for  the  conduct  of  their  brother  soldiers.  Are  these  a  people  to  be  treated 
as  malefactors,  without  regard  to  their  feelings  and  principles;  and  might  not 
a  discipline  somewhat  different  from  the  usual  mode  be,  with  advantage,  applied 
to  them  ?— Vol.  II.  pp.  413-11.5,  3d  edit. 

A  soldier  of  this  regiment  (the  Argyllshire  Highlanders)  deserted,  and  emi- 
grated to  America,  where  he  settled.  Several  years  after  his  desertion,  a  letter 
was  received  from  him,  with  a  sum  of  money,  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  one 
at  two  men  to  supply  his  place  in  the  regiment,  as  the  only  recompense  he  could 
make  for  "breaking  his  oath  to  his  God  and  his  allpciance  to  his  king,  which 
preyed  on  his  conscience  in  such  a  manner,  that  he  had  no  rest  night  nor  day." 

This  man  had  had  good  principles  early  instilh^d  into  his  mind,  and  the  disgrace 
which  he  had  been  originally  tauerht  to  believp  would  attach  to  a  breach  of  faith 
now  operated  with  full  effect.  The  soldier  who  desprted  from  the  42d  Regiment 
at  Gibraltar,  in  1707,  exhibited  the  same  remorse  of  conscience  after  he  had  vio- 
lated his  allegiance.  In  countries  where  such  principles  prevail,  and  resrnlate 
the  character  of  a  people,  the  mass  of  the  population  may,  on  occasions  of  trial, 
be  reckoned  on  as  sound  and  trustworthy. — Vol.  II.  p.  218. 

The  late  James  Menzies  of  Culdares,  having  engaged  in  the  rebellion  of  171£i 


478  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  been  taken  at  Preston,  in  Lancashire,  was  carried  to  London,  where  he  was 
tried  and  condemned,  but  afterwards  reprieved.  Grateful  for  this  clemency,  he 
remained  at  home  in  1745,  but,  retaining  a  predilection  for  the  old  cause,  he  sent  a 
handsome  charger  as  a  present  to  Prince  Charles,  when  advancing  through  Eng- 
land. The  servant  who  led  and  delivered  the  horse  was  taken  prisoner,  and  car- 
ried to  Carlisle,  where  he  was  tried  and  condemned.  To  extort  a  discovery  of 
the  person  who  sent  the  horse,  threats  of  immediate  execution  in  case  of  refusal, 
and  olf  ers  of  pardon  on  his  giving  information,  were  held  out  ineffectually  to  the 
faithful  messenger.  He  knew,  he  said,  what  the  consequence  of  a  disclosure 
would  be  to  his  master,  and  his  own  life  was  nothing  in  the  comparison.  When 
brought  out  for  execution,  he  was  again  pressed  to  inform  on  his  master.  He 
asked  if  they  were  serious  in  supposing  him  such  a  villain.  If  he  did  what  they 
desired,  and  forgot  his  master  and  his  trust,  he  could  not  return  to  his  native 
country,  for  Glenlyon  would  be  no  home  or  country  for  him,  as  he  would  be  de- 
spised "and  hunted  out  of  the  glen.  Accordingly  "he  kept  steady  to  his  trust, 
and  was  executed.  This  trusty  servant's  name  was  John  Macnaughton,  from 
Glenlyon,  in  Perthshire  ;  he  deserves  to  be  mentioned,  both  on  account  of  his  in- 
corruptible fidelity,  and  of  his  testimony  to  the  honorable  principles  of  the 
people,  and  to  their  detestation  of  a  breach  of  trust  to  a  kind  and  honorable 
master,  however  great  might  be  the  risk,  or  however  fatal  the  consequences,  t<p 
the  individual  himself  .—Vol.  I,  pp.  58,  53. 


GLOSSARr 

OF 

WORDS,  PHRASES,  AND  ALLUSIONS 


dboon,  above 

Absolute,  Sir  Anthony, 
a  character  in  Sheridan's 
Rivals  (1775) 

Ad  Ch-cecas  kalendas,  to 
the  Greek  Calends  (an 
indefinite  period; 

Allan,  Sir  WilUam,  Scot> 
tish  painter  (1. 8:^-1050), 
and  a  personal  friend  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott 

Almanzor,  a  character  in 
Dryden's  tragedy,  The 
Conquest  of  Granada 
(1670) 

Amatiisand  amata,  lover, 
male  and  female 

Amourettes,  love  affairs, 
intrigues 

"■And  !ohare  treio  ye  I 
gaed"}"  (p.  364),  from 
C.  Macklin's  il/a?i  of  the 
World  (1781),  a  satire  on 
the  Scots 

Aneurin,  a  Welsh  bard, 
cele'  rated  the  battle  of 
Cattraeth  (q.v.)  in  a 
poem  entitled  Oodo- 
din 

Angelica,  ribs  of  the  leaves 
of  dwarf  gentian,  can- 
died or  preserved 

Appian  (highway),  con- 
nected  Rome  with  the 
chief  towns  in  the  south 
of  Italy,  was  made  in 
part  by  Appi..s  Claudius 
Caecus  in  313  B.C. 

Arblast.  cross-bow 

Argyle's  rising,  in  support 
of  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth, against  James 
II.  of  England,  in  1685 

Arlechino,  or  Arlecchino, 
harlequin.  The  harle- 
quin of  the  old  Italian 
stage  was  a  clown,  or 
jest-maker  and  prank- 
player 

Armorican,  a  native  of 
Brittany  or  Normandy 


Assoilzie,  to  absolve,  ac- 
quit of  sin 

Aught,  possession,  prop- 
erty 

Auld  Reekie,  Old  Smoky, 
a  popular  name  for  Ed- 
inburgh 

Ave  Regina  Cceli,  hail, 
Queen  of  Heaven  1 

Awen,  flow  of  poetic  in- 
spiration 

Awmous,  alms 

BacJcspeir,  to  cross-ques- 
tion, trace  back  a  story, 
statement 

Bail:y,  the  space  between 
the  outer  and  inner  walls 
of  a  castle 

Baillie,  Joanna,  author 
of  a  series  of  Plays  on 
the  Passions  (1798-1836) 

Banquette,  a  stone  bench 
running  along  the  in- 
side of  the  ramparts 

Bastille,  a  fortress  prison 

Bauld,  bold 

Bayle's,  or  BayWs,  a  tav- 
ern in  Shakespeare 
Square  (now  disap- 
peared) near  the  present 
General  Post  Office,  Ed- 
inburgh 

Beast  who  laughs  (p.  260), 
the  striped  hyaena 

Bell-the-cat,  to  undertake 
a  dangerous  work.  In 
the  reign  of  James  III. 
of  Scotland,  Archibald 
Douglas,  Earl  of  Angus, 
"  belled-the-cat "  by  put- 
ting to  death  the  king's 
unworthy  favorite  Coch- 
rane. See  Scott's  Tales 
of  a  Grandfather,  chap, 
xxii. 

Benedicite,  bless  you! 

Bereford,  or  Bear  ford. 
Park,  now  George  Street, 
Edinburgh 

Bestially  cattle 
470 


Beverage,  vioi  ?  elegant 
and  costly  (p.  8),  wine 

Bezant  or  byzant,  a  gold 
coin  ==  10s.  to  20s.,  widely 
current  In  the  Middle 
Ages 

Bide,  to  endure,  bear  ;  to 
stay,  remain 

Bien,  frugal,  comfortable 

Big,  to  build ;  biggit,  built ; 
bigqing,  a  building 

Birling,  a  boat  with  six  or 
eight  oars,  used  on  the 
west  coast  of  Scotland 

Bittock,  a  short  distance, 
but  proverbially  an  ex- 
tra long  distance 

Blink,  a  moment,  brief 
space  of  time 

Bobadil,  Captain,  a  char- 
acter in  Ben  Jonson's 
Every  Man  in  his  Humor 
(1598) 

Bodach,  a  spirit,  specter 

Boddle,  a  Scotch  copper 
coin  =  l-6th  penny  Eng> 
lish 

Bodesman,  one  who  makes 
a  bode,  bid,  offer  to  buy 

Bogle,  specter 

Bonassus  (p.  370).  Com- 
pare the  French  word 
bonasse,  an  extremely 
simple,  almost  childish, 
person 

Bonbonniire,  sweetmeat- 
box 

Bon  gr^,  mal  gre,  willy 
nilly,  whether  one  is 
willing  or  not 

Borrel,  rustic,  rude 

Bowles,  Rev.  Mr.  (William 
Lisle  Bowles);  poet  and 
antiquary,  author  of 
the  antiquarian  work, 
Hermes  Bntannicua 
(1828) 

Brach,  a  dog  that  hunts 
by  scent 

Breacan,  that  which  is 
variegated,t.e.the  tartan 


180 


tVAVERLEY  NOVELS 


Broumie,  a  gnome  or 
dwarf  of  supernatural 
character 

Broion's  Sqtiare,  in  Edin- 
burgh. See  Redgaunt- 
let.  Note  10,  p.  435 

Cader-Idris,  meaning  the 
"  chair  of  Idris,"  a  moun- 
tain about  3000  feet  high 
in  North  Wales 

Cairleon.  or  Caerleon,  on 
the  Usk  in  Monmouth- 
shire, closely  associated 
with  the  history  of  King 
Arthur 

Canceller,  to  turn  sud- 
denly on  the  wing  before 
striking 

Canny,  safe,  lucky 

Carcanet,  a  jeweled  neck- 
lace 

Carhne,  an  old  woman 

Carritch,  the  catechism 

Carthusian  silence.  The 
monks  of  the  Carthusian 
order  were  bound  to  pre- 
serve almost  unbroken 
silence 

Cateran,  a  Highland  rob- 
ber 

Cattraeth,  a  battle  fought 
In  603  A.D.  between  the 
Britons  of  Strathclyde 
(southwest  of  Scotland) 
and  the  Saxons,  cele- 
brated by  Aueurin  (q.v.) 

Chandos,  Jchn,  a  distin- 
guished soldier  and  fol- 
lower of  Edward  the 
Black    Prince,    died    in 

isro 

Chap2:>e,  a  large  military 
cloak 

Chappit,  struck 

Chasse  -  cafe,  more  cor- 
rectly, pousse  -  cafe,  a 
small  glass  of  brandy  or 
liquor  taken  after  coffee 

Cheir,  (riotous),  cheer, 
entertainment 

Chere  exquise,  exquisite 
cheer,  fare 

Chield,  fellow 

Cistercians,  a  branch  or 
offshoot  from  the  Bene- 
dictines ;  they  aimed  at 
a  stricter  observance  of 
their  common  rules  than 
the  mother  order 

Clachan.  hamlet 

Clack,  the  clapper  of  a 
mill ;  clack-mill,  a  wind- 
mill rattle  for  frighten- 
ing birds 

Clarendon,  Lord,  Edward 
Hyde,  author  of  History 
of  the  Rebellion  in  Eng- 
land (1704-7) 

Cloudberry,  is  not  scarlet 
(p.  41,^),  hut  of  a  pale 
orange  color,  and  in  ap- 


pearance resembles  a 
large  raspberry 

Cnicht,  a  servant,  follower 

Cockade,  white.  See  White 
cockade 

Cockburn.  Mr.,  afterwards 
Lord  Cockburn  (1779- 
1854),  took  a  warm  in- 
terest in  preserving  the 
natural  beauties  of  Ed- 
inburgh 

Coistrel,  an  inferior 
groom,  base  varlet, 
knave 

Coliir.e,  or  Columvy,  Gas 
tie  of,  Colwyn  Castle  in 
Radnorshire,  has  now 
almost  entirely  disap- 
peared 

Comperit,  summoned  to 
attend  court 

Comus,  the  god  of  revelry, 
in  ancient  Greek  myth- 
ology 

Confessor,  royal  and  holy. 
King  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor 

Conjuro  vos,  etc.  (p.  68),  I 
conjure  you,  spirits  of 
evil,  great  and  small 

Corehouse  Linn,  a  water- 
fall in  the  Clyde,  about 
2  miles  above  Lanark 

Cornage,  the  obligation 
to  blow  a  horn  (cornu) 
on  the  approach  of  an 
enemy 

Cnrnhifl.  on  the  Tweed, 
2  miles  from  Coldstream 

Coronach,  the  Highland 
lament  for  the  dead 

Corps  de  garde,  the  guards 

Corso,  a  wide,  straight 
street  ia  Italian  towns 

Cottar,  a  peasant  or  cot- 
tager living  on  a  farm 

Couchee,  a  levee  or  audi- 
ence held  just  before  re- 
tiring to  sleep 

Counter,  hunt.  See  Hunt 
counter 

Crack,  gossip 

Crags,  presumably  Salis- 
bury Crags,  a  part  of 
the  mountainous  mass 
of  Arthur's  Seat,  over- 
looking the  Canongate. 
See  Note  20,  p.  478 

Cramer,  a  small  merchant, 
chapman 

Creagh,  a  cattle  -  lifting 
raid,  foray 

Cretan  wa  r /•  m r,  pr obabl y 
Minos  the  Younger,  king 
of  Crete,  who  demanded 
the  human  tribute  from 
Athens  for  the  Minotaur 

Croce,  cross 

Crogan,  a  somewhat  con- 
tumelious epithet  ap- 
plied by  the  Welsh  to 
the  English 


Crush  a  cup,  drink  a  cup 
of  wine,  perhaps  from 
the  practice  of  crushing 
grapes  into  a  cup  in  wine 
countries.  Comp.  the 
phrase  "  crack  a  bottle  " 

Criv,  or  cwrw,  ale,  beer 

Curatio  est  canonica,  non 
coacta,  the  cure  is  af 
fected  by  following  the 
rules  of  art,  not  by  using 
violence 

Carch,  a  kerchief  for  cov- 
ering the  head 

Currach.  or  curragh,  a 
small  skiff,  consisting  of 
a  slight  framework  cov- 
ered  with  hide  or  canvas 

Cymmorodion,  a  Welsh 
society  for  promoting 
the  native  literature  and 
arts,  re  -  established  in 
1877 

Cyprus,  a  thin,  transpar- 
ent kind  of  crape 

Dahnatique,  a  long  eccle- 
siastical robe  with  wide 
sleeves 

Dang,  knocked  down, 
struck  violently 

Deheuburth,  the  old  Brit- 
ish name  for  South 
Wales 

Der  alter  Herr  ist  verriickt, 
the  old  lord  is  frantic 

Dermid.  sons  of,  the  clan 
Campbell 

Destrier,  a  steed,  war- 
horse 

Deus  vobiscum,  God  be 
with  you 

Diapre,  diapered,  varie- 
gated—a heraldic  term 

Doch-an-dorroch,  the  part- 
ing-cup 

Doddered,  overgrown  with 
parasitic  plants 

Doe,  John,  and  Richard 
Roe,  the  fictitious  claim- 
ant and  defendant  in  an 
old  English  law  process 
(ejectment)  foi  recover- 
ing possession  of  land 

Doer,  agent,  attorney—a 
Scots  law  term 

Dole,  sorro;^' 

Door-cheek,  the  door-post 

Do  veniam,  I  give  pardon 
or  leave 

Dun,  a  fortified  hill 

Dunlap  cheese,  made  at 
Dunlop,  a  village  on  the 
borders  of  Ayrshire  and 
Renfrewshire 

Durame,  Durham 


Eathe,  easy 

Edgeworthstown,  young 
ladies  of,  the  family  of 
which  Maxia  Edgewortb 


GLOSSARY 


481 


the  novelist,  was  the 
briglitest  ornament 

Elf  land,  fairyland 

Elf-stricken,  bewitched 

Empress  -  Queen,  Maria 
Theresa,  Empress  of 
Austria,  Queen  of  Hun- 
gary 

En  bagatelle,  as  a  trifling 
matter 

Epic  poem,  receipt  for 
making.  See  Pope's 
paper  in  The  Guardian, 
No  78 

Erar,  rather,  sooner 

Es  spuckt,  specters  are 
abroad 

Ethnic,  heathen,  not 
Christian 

Ettrick  Shepherd,  James 
Hogg,  a  Scottish  poet 
(1770-1835) 

Eudorchawg,  a  chain  of 
twisted  gold  links,  a 
mark  of  chieftainship 
amongst  the  Welsh 

Evened,  compared,  low- 
ered 

Ex  capite  lecti,  from  the 
head  of  the  bed 

Ex  cathedra,  from  the 
chair 


Fablicmix,  tales  in  verse, 
peculiar  to  France,  12th 
to  14th  century,  and 
generally  satirical  in 
character 

Falkirk,  where  Prince 
Charles's  Highlanders 
defeated  General  Haw- 
ley  in  1746 

Fash  trouble 

Fey,  predestined  to  death, 
doomed 

Fiangailles,  solemn  be- 
trothal 

Fion,  Fingal,  the  hero  of 
Macpherson's  Ossian 

Flam  inian  (highway),  con- 
nected Rome  with  Ri- 
mini on  the  Adriatic,  was 
made  by  C.  Flaminius  in 

Fleam,  a  kind  of  lancet 
Fleech,  to  flatter,  cajole 
Flemings     in     Pembroke- 
shire.     See    Pembroke- 
shire, Flemings  in 
Fletcher  of  Salton,  one  of 
the  most  accomplished 
Scotsmen  of  his  time,  a 
supporter  of  Monmouth 
in  1685,  and  an  ardent 
politician 
Foire.  a  fair 

Fontenoy.  near  Tournai, 
in  Belgium,  where  the 
Allies  under  the  Duke 
of  Cumberland  were  de- 
leated    by   the   French 


under  Marshal  Saxe  in 
1745 

Forbears,  ancestors 

Forthink,  to  repent  of,  re- 
gret 

Fortune's,  a  tavern  in  Old 
Stanip  Office  Close,  off 
the  High  Street,  Edin- 
burgh 

Frampal,  unruly 

Franklin,  a  freeholder, 
yeoman 

Fi-ay,  to  frighten 

Prayings,  peelings  of  a 
deer's  horn 

Frederick  of  Prussia,  sur- 
named  the  "  Great," 
king  of  Prussia  (1740- 
1786) 

Ganging  back,  losing 
money 

Garde  Doloureuse,  the 
castle  of  sorrow  or 
mourning 

Gart,  caused,  made 

Gate,  way  road,  manner 

Gaud,  an  ornament,  trin- 
ket 

Gear,  business,  affair  ; 
property,  goods 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  an 
English  chronicler  or 
historian  of  the  12th 
century 

Gillian  of  Croydon,  should 
be  Marian,  if  the  old 
story  of  Grim  the  Collier 
of  Croydon  is  referred  to 

Giraldus  de  Barri,  or  Gi- 
raldus  Cambrensis,  a 
Welsh  ecclesiastic  and 
historian  of  the  reign  of 
Henry  II. 

Glenalvon,  a  reference  to 
John  Home's  tragedy  of 
Douglas  (1756) 

Glengarry,  Macdonnell  of, 
a  supporter  of  Prince 
Charles  in  1745 

Glenlyon,  Captain  Camp- 
bell of,  who  commanded 
the  party  that  perpe- 
trated the  Massacre  of 
Glencoe 

Glenshee,  in  the  northeast 
of  Perthshire 

Gloucester  (p.  276),  no 
doubt  the  half-brother 
of  Matilda  and  uncle  of 
Henry  II.  is  meant,  al- 
though he  died  in  1147, 
more  than  forty  years 
before  the  events  of  this 
story 

Green  Man,  the  title  of  a 
comedy,  by  one  Jones, 
produced  at  the  Hay- 
market  Theater,  Lon- 
don, in  1818,  in  which 
Daniel  Terry  acted  "  Mr. 
Green  " 


Greishogh,  a  glowing  em- 
ber 

Qreiv,  a  greyhound 

Groningen,  a  town  in  the 
north  of  Holland 

Guardian,  the  periodical 
written  by  Steele,  Addi- 
son, etc.  (1713) 

Guidon,  a  small  flag  or 
standard 

Guilder,  a  Dutch  florin  =- 
Is.  8d. 

Gwentland,  correspond- 
to  the  south-east  parts 
of  Wales 

Gwydir,  or  Gwedir,  Fam- 
ily. See  History  of  the 
Gwydir  Family 

Gyre-carlin,  a  witch 


Habergeon,  a  short  coat  of 
mail  without  sleeves 

"  Had  you  but  seen,'"  etc. 
(p.  401),  inscribed  on  an 
obelisk  near  Fort  Wil- 
liam. See  Captain  E. 
Burt's  Letters  from  the 
North  of  Scotland,  Let- 
ter xxvi. 

Hcec  nos  novimus  esse 
■nihil,  this  we  understood 
to  be  nothing 

Haggard,  an  untrained  or 
refractory  hawk 

Hamilton  of  Bavgour, 
William,  Scottish  Jacob- 
ite poet  (1704-1754) 

Harley,  Fdtrard,  second 
Earl  of  Oxford,  the  pat- 
ron of  Prior,  Pope,  and 
other  writers  of  his  day 
(1689-1741 ) 

Hengisi.    See  Horsa 

Heresy  of  the  mountain- 
eers. See  Mountaineers, 
heresy  of 

Herr  Keller  -master,  Mr. 
Cellarer.  See  Keller- 
master 

Hinc  nice  lachrymce,  hence 
these  tears,  that's  where 
the  shoe  pinches 

Hippocras,  wine  seasoned 
with  spices 

Hippocrates,  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  physi- 
cians of  the  ancien< 
Greeks,  lived  in  the  5th 
century  B.C. 

History  of  the  Gv-ydir 
Family,  by  Sir  John 
Wynne  (1770) 

Home,  John,  Scottish 
pastor  and  dramatist 
(172!3-1808) 

Horsa,  the  brother  of 
Hengist,  who  led  the 
Saxons  when  they  in- 
vaded England  in  the 
5th  century 

Eoundsfoot,  or  hundtfott. 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


a  mean  scoundrel,  vil- 
lain 

Hoivell  Dha.  Howel  the 
Gtood,  king  of  Wales  dur- 
ing the  first  half  of  the 
10th  century 

Hunt  counter,  to  run  back- 
wards on  the  scent,  in- 
stead of  following  it  up 

Hydromel,  a  drink  made 
of  honey,  diluted  with 
water 

'•I care  not."  etc.  (p.  371), 
from  Ben  Jonson,  Every 
Man  in  his  Humor,  Act 
i.  sc.  4 

Iconoclast,  a  religious  sect 
of  the  Eastern  (Roman) 
Empire,  in  the  8th  cent- 
ury, specially  opposed 
to  the  use  of  sacred  im- 
ages 

J7fc,  each 

Inchaffray,  a  ruined  ab- 
bey, about  8  miles  west 
of  Perth 

Infare.  or  infair,  an  enter- 
tainment given  to  cele- 
brate entering  into  a 
new  house  ;  a  wedding 
reception 

Inqxiisitio  post  mortem, 
the  inquiry  made  as  to 
the  cause  of  death 

In  terrorem,  as  a  warning, 
deterrent  to 

Inundation,  great.  Flan- 
ders was  inundated  in 
1100  or  1108,  and  Holland 
in  1170  and  1173  ;  on  this 
last  occasion,  to  which 
Rose  Flammock  may  be 
supposed  to  refer  (p.  66), 
the  Zuyder  Zee  was 
greatly  enlarged 

Ipsa  corpora,  the  very 
pieces 

Jameson,  or  Jamesone, 
George,  a  portrait- 
painter  of  the  17th  cent- 
ury, sometimes  called 
"  the  Scottish  Van 
Dyke  " 

Jangler,  an  idls  talker 

Jenkins,  Henry,  reputed 
to  have  been  169  years 
old  at  the  time  of  his 
death  in  1670 

Jerfalcon,  or  gyrfalcon, 
the  noble  falcon  used  for 
hawking 

Jimply,  .  carcely 

Jongleric,  jugglei-y 

Judas  Mi .  ccabceiis,  a  patri- 
otic priest  of  the  Jews, 
who  encieavored  to  rouse 
his  ppoi  le  against  their 
conquer'^rs,  the  kings  of 
Syria,  in  the  2d  century 
B.a    See  "  First  Book  of 


Maccabees,"  chaps,  iii.- 
ix.,  in  The  Apocrypha 

Kail-pot,  cooking-pot 

Kaim  of  Urie,  or  Ury, 
near  Stonehaven,  in  Kin- 
cardineshire 

Kain,  a  tax  payable  to  the 
landlord  in  kind,  such  as 
I     poultry,  eggs,  etc. 
I  Kaiser,  emperor 

Kale-yard,  vegetable  gar- 
den 

Kammerer,  the  head  of 
any  domestic  depart- 
ment in  a  large  house- 
hold 

Keller-master,  more  cor- 
rectly kellermeister,  cel- 
larer, butler 

Kennel,  gutter 

Kenneth,  children  of,  the 
clan  Mackenzie 

Kestril,  or  kestrel,  an  in- 
ferior kind  of  hawk — a 
term  of  contempt 

Kidron  and  Shimei.  See 
1  Kings  ii.  37 

King  Somebody  (p.  282), 
Nebuchadnezzar,  king  of 
Babylon 

Kintail,  the  headquarters 
of  the  Mackenzie  clan  in 
the  south-west  of  Ross- 
shire 

Kirkcaldy,  in  Fifeshire,  is 
called  the  "  long  town," 
because  it  stretches  4 
miles  along  the  coast 

Kistvaen,  a  monumental 
arrangement  of  stones 
marking  the  burial- 
place  of  an  ancient  Brit- 
ish chief 

Knight  of  the  Swayi,  the 
hero  of  the  French  medi- 
aeval romance.  The  His- 
tory of  Helyas,  Knight  of 
the  Swan 

Ladykirk,  on  the  Tweed, 
6  miles  from  Cold-stream 

Lai,  a  short  legendary  tale 
in  verse,  song,  lay 

Langside,  a  suburb  of 
Glasgow,  where  Queen 
Mary's  forces  were  de- 
feated by  those  of  the 
Regent  Murray  on  13th 
May  1568.  See  the  ac- 
count in  T)ie  Abbot, 
chap,  xxxvii. 

Laputa,  sage  of,  an  allu- 
sion to  Swift's  Oulliver's 
Travels,  "Voyage  to  La- 
puta," chap.  V. 

Latten,  a  kind  of  brass  or 
bronze 

Lauderdale,  Duchess  of. 
Lady  Dysart,  the  .second 
wife  or  John  Duke  of 
Lauderdale,  in  Charles 


II. 's  relgo,  an  ambitious 

and  extravagant  woman 

Lawing,  an  inn  reckoning 

Legate  a  latere,  an  am- 
bassador of  the  Pope  of 
the  highest  rank 

Lesouris,  grazing- 

grounds,  pastures 

Lewis,  Lord,  i.e.  Gordon, 
son  of  the  second  Duke 
of  Gordon,  supported 
Prince  Charles  in  1745 

Lewis's  History.  The  His- 
tory of  Great  Britain, 
by  John  Lewis  (1729) 

Limbo  Lake,  hades,  the  in- 
fernal or  lower  world 

Lithe-alos,  mild  but  good 
Saxon  ale 

Llhuyd,  or  Lhuud,  Ed- 
ward, a  Welsh  anti- 
quary, author  of  Archce- 
ologia  Britannica  (1707), 
a  learned  philological 
work 

Locluiber  axe,  a  sort  of 
halberd,  a  bill-like  blade 
and  a  hook,  both  at  one 
end  of  a  long  shaft 

Lochiel,  Cameron  of,  a 
supporter  of  Prince 
Charles  in  1745 

Lollard,  a  religious  sect 
in  England,  in  the  14th 
century,  who  were  op- 
posed to  the  use  of  sa- 
cred images 

Lombard,  a  merchant  or 
banker  from  one  of  the 
North  Italian  cities  ; 
these  so-called  Lon- 
bards  were  very  active 
traders  from  the  12th  to 
the  14th  century 

Looten,  let,  perniitted 

Lounger,  the  periodical 
written  by  Macke»zie, 
Craig,  Abercromby,  and 
others  (1785-87) 

Lower  Empire,  the  Byzan- 
tine, Greek,  or  Eastern 
(Roman)  Empire 

Luckie,  a  title  of  respect 
given  to  old  women  in 
Scotland 

Z,Mrda?ie,  worthless,  stupid 

Lusignan,  a  character  in 
Aaron  Hill's  Zara  (1736), 
an  adaptation  of  Vol- 
taire's Zaire 

MacCallan  Mhor,  the  Earl 
(Duke)  of  Argyle,  the 
head  of  the  clan  Camp- 
bell 

Macdhonuil  Dhu  or,Duibh, 
the  patronymic  of  the 
clan  Cameron 

Mackenzie,  Henry,  author 
of  The  Man  of  Feeling 
(17n) 

Madifiy 


GLOSSARY 


48S 


been  brought  to  surren- 
der 

Mains,  the  home  farm  and 
its  buildings 

MaitlandyWilUam,  author 
of  Hisiory  of  Edinburgh 
(1753)  and  other  works 

Malvolio,  a  character  in 
Shakespeare's  Twelfth 
Night 

Man.  Reginald  of.  See 
Reginald  of  Man 

Manchet,  a  small  loaf  of 
fine  white  bread 

Mandeuille,  Sir  John,  a 
reputed  traveler  of  the 
14th  century,  who  re- 
corded astonishing  mar- 
vels ;  but  he  really 
copied  most  of  his  book 
from  other  sources 
(Friar  Odoric,  etc  ),  and 
so  is  doubly  an  unvera- 
cious  narrator 

Mandrin,  Louis,  cele- 
brated smuggler  and 
bandit  of  the  south  of 
France,  broken  on  the 
wheel  at  Valence  in  1755 

Mangonel,  an  engine  for 
throwing  huge  stones 

Mara,  in  ancient  Norse 
mythology,  the  night- 
mare 

Marry  guep,  i.e.  "  marry 
go  up  "—an  expression 
of  contempt 

Mathrnvel,  or  Mathrafal, 
a  district  of  Montgom- 
eryshire 

Maturin,  Charles  BoheH, 
author  of  a  tragedy, 
Bertram  (1816) 

Maugre,  in  spite  of 

Maun,  must 

Medicum.  physician 

Medois,  meadows 

Meister  Keller  -  master. 
Master  Cellarer.  See 
Keller-master 

Menf<truum,,  a  fluid  sub- 
stance that  acts  as  a 
solvent 

Mezentius,  an  allusion  to 
Virgil's  Mneid,  Bk.  viii. 
485 

Mezzo  termini,  half -meas- 
ures 

Minivair,  or  miniver,  a 
mixed  or  spotted  fur, 
used  for  trimmings,  in 
the  Middle  Ages 

Mirror,  the  periodical 
written  by  Mackenzie, 
Craig,  Abercromby,  and 
others  (1179-1780) 

Miserere  me,  Domine, 
Lord,  have  mercy  upon 

Mithridnte.  an  antidote 
against  poison.  Mithri- 
dates,  kmg   of   Poutus, 


was  celebrated  for  his 
knowledge  of  poisons 
and  their  antidotes 

Mizzles,  measles 

Moliire's  recipe,  an  allu- 
sion to  a  legend  that  the 
comedy  -  writer  Moli6re 
read  his  plays  in  MS.  to 
an  old  woman  to  whose 
judgment  and  opinion 
he  attached  great  value 

Monmouth,  Geoffrey  of. 
See  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth 

Morbus  sonticus,  a  serious 
disease,  affording  a  valid 
legal  excuse  for  absence 

Moringer,  a  family  name. 
The  use  of  the  article 
"  the  "  before  Moringer 
conforms  to  a  German 
practice  (or  habit)  of 
speaking  and  writing 

Mort,  the  flourish  of  the 
trumpet  that  intimates 
the  death  of  the  game 

Mortier,  a  knight's  bon- 
net, made  of  velvet 

Moss,  a  marshy,  boggy 
place 

Mountaineers,  heresy  of 
the,  most  probably  the 
Waldenses,  who  dwelt 
amongst  the  Alps  of 
Piedmont  and  Provence, 
though  their  movement 
did  not  originate  until 
late  in  the  l5th  century 

Murray,  Will,  manager  of 
the  Theater- Royal,  Ed- 
inburgh. See  Appendix, 
p.  465 

Muscadine,a,  sweet,strong 
Italian  wine 

Mystery,  a  sort  of  religious 
play  or  drama  of  the 
Middle  Ages 


Nainsell,  own  self 

Najara,  or  rather  Navar- 
ette,  fought  between  Ed- 
ward the  Black  Prince 
and  Henry  de  Trastam- 
are  of  Castile  in  1367 

Nakei;  a  kmd  of  kettle- 
drum 

Nares,  nostrils 

Netherboiv,  an  old  city 
gate  of  Edinburgh, 
standing  across  the 
High  Street  half-way 
between  Holyrood  and 
St.  Giles's 

Nominis  unilrra,  under  the 
shelter  of  the  name 

"  Non  audet,'"  etc.  (p.  156), 
no  one  dares  to  give  who 
has  not  studied  ;  physi- 
cians prescribe  medi- 
cines and  artifleers  la- 
bor at  their  own  craft. 


Quoted  from  Horace, 
Epistles,  Bk.  ii.  1,  115 

Non  sum  qualis  eram,  1 
am  not  wnat  I  once  was 

Nor'  Loch,  a  deep  depres- 
sion below  the  Castle  of 
Edinburgh,  where  the 
Princes  Street  Gardens 
now  are,  was  "  im- 
proved "  in  1763,  and 
again  through  an  Act  of 
Parliament  obtained  in 
1816 

Norval,  a  reference  to 
John  Home's  tragedy  of 
Douglas  (1756) 

Nym,  Corporal,  in  Shake- 
speare's Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor 


Odor  lucri,  the  savor  of 
gain 

CEdipus,  son  of  the  king 
of  Thebes  (Greece), 
killed  his  own  father  and 
committed  incest  with 
his  mother,  not  knowing 
either  of  them 

Ogilvy,  Hon.  Mrg.  Colonel, 
a  lady  who  "  finished 
off "  the  education  of 
young  ladies,  amongst 
others  Scott's  mother 

Ogleby,  Lord,  a  character 
in  Clandestine  Marriage 
(1766),  by  Garrick  and 
Coleman 

''''Omni  membrorum 
dnmno,"  etc.  (p.  335), 
with  the  loss  of  all  his 
members,  and  worse, 
the  loss  of  mind,  which 
prevents  him  from  rec- 
ognizing either  the 
names  of  his  servants  or 
the  faces  of  his  friends. 
From  Juvenal,  Satires, 


Orestes,  slew  his  mother, 
who  had  murdered  his 
father  Agamemnon,  for 
which  he  was  seized  with 
madness  and  haunted  by 
the  Furies 

Outskiri-er,  outscourer, 
scout 

Owsen,  oxen 


"  Pah,  an  ounce  of  civet," 
etc.  (p.  365),  from  Lear. 
Act  iv.  sc.  6 

Pantler,  the  servant  who 
had  charge  of  the  bread 

Par  amours,  in  illicit  love, 
for  love's  sake 

Paritor,  the  summoner  of 
an  ecclesiastical  court 

Parsonage,  money  paid 
for  the  support  of  a  par- 
son, the  greater  tithes 

Partridge,  a  character  in 


484 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


Fielding's     novel,    Tom 
Jones  (174'.)) 

Payni7n,  pagan,  heathen 

Pembrokeshire,  Flemings  I 
in,  colonies  of  the  people  i 
were  settled  in  that ! 
county  by  both  Henry  I.  ! 
and  Henry II. of  England 

Pendicle,  appendage,  de- 
pendency 

Pennonceile,  a  small  pen- 
non or  streamer  fixed  to 
a  spear 

Per  ambages,  by  ambigu- 
ous methods 

Peri  Bathous,  or  in  full 
Martinus  Scriblerus, 
Peri  Bathous,  or  the  Art 
of  Sinking  in  Poetry, 
chap,  xi.,  by  Pope  and 
others 

Persona  standi  in  judicio, 
legal  status,  recognition 
and  i-esponsibility 

Perth,  Duke  of,  of  the 
Drummoud  family,  a 
supporter  of  Prince 
Charles  in  1745 

Periinax,  Sir.  See  Sir 
Pertinax 

Pigment,  highly  -  spiced 
wme  sweetened  with 
honey 

PitscoHie,  Robert  Lindsay 
of,  author  of  Chronicles 
of  Scotland  (down  to 
15G5) 

Placket,  a  pocket 

Pochay,  a  post-chaise 

Poet  (on  General  Wade's 
roads,  p.  309),  Captain 
Burt,  author  of  Letters 
from  the  North  of  Scot- 
land (17.5'1),  was  believed 
to  be  of  Irish  origin 

Povinragrains.  See  Guy 
Mannering, chap,  xxxvi. 
p.  246 

Pompey  in  MEASURE  FOR 
Meas^VRE.  in  Act  iii.  so. 
2.  Pompey  is  the  name 
of  the  clown 

Porte  cochere,  the  carriage 
gate  and  entrance 

Pottle,  a  two-quart  mea- 
sure, a  large  tankard 

Powell,  David,  translated 
into  English  Caradoc's 
(Welsh)  History  of 
Wales  (1774) 

Pou-ys  Castle,  the  seat,  not 
of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort, 
but  of  the  Earl  of  Powis ; 

Poirys  Land,  a  former 
kingdom  in  the  south  of 
Wales 

Preses,  or  presses,  the 
president,  chairman 

Preston,  or  Prestnnpans, 
where  Prince  Charles's 
Highlanders  defeated 
General  Cope  in  1745 


Prior.  Matthew,  English 
poet  (1604-1721),  author 
of  Henry  and  Emmcu, 
etc. 

Propalc,  to  publish,  dis- 
close 

Prospero,  a  character  in 
Shakespeare's  Tempest 

Ptolemais,  Acre,  or  St. 
Jean  d'Acre,  on  the 
coast  of  Syria.  There 
Archbishop  Baldwin 
died  in  1190  ;  he  left  his 
private  property  to  be 
expended  for  the  recov- 
ery of  Palestine  from 
the  Saracens 

Quaigh,  a  small  drinking- 
cup 

Quarrel,  a  square-headed 
bolt  hurled  from  a  mili- 
tary engine 
?uhen,  when 
uhilk,  which 

Qui  jurat,  etc.  (p.  56),  he 
who  sweareth  to  his 
neighbor  and  deceiveth 
him  not 

Quis  habitabit,  etc.  (p.  56), 
Who  shall  sojourn  in 
Thy  tabernacle,  who 
shall  dwell  in  Thy  holy 
hiU? 

Rachis,  or  raches,  dogs 
that  hunt  by  scent 

Rambler,  the  periodical 
conducted  and  written 
(17.50-52)  by  Dr.  Johnson 

Ramillies  O'-ig),  ended  in 
a  long  plait,  which  had 
a  large  bow  of  ribbon  at 
the  top  and  a  smaller  one 
at  the  bottom 

Randolph,  Lady  (p.  404), 
a  character  in  John 
Home's  tragedy,  Doug- 
las (1756) 

Rappee,  a  strong  kind  of 
snuff 

Rascaille,  base,  ignoble 

Ratten,  a  rat 

Receipt  for  making  epic 
poem.  See  Epic  poem, 
etc. 

Reginald  of  Man.  this 
king,  a  descendant  of 
the  Norse  chief,  Goddard 
Crovan,  mentioned  in 
Pevcril  of  the  Peak, 
reigned  forty  years, 
from  1187 

Reiving,  pillaging 

Renyeis,  reins 

Requiescant  in  pace,  peace 
be  to  their  ashes 

Resetting,  giving  shelter 
to  persons  pro.scribed 
by,  or  obnoxious  to,  the 
law 

Reveche,  tart,  crabbed 


Riding     of    the    Scottiih 

Farliament,  the  formal 
opening     of     it     by     a 
mounted    procession  of 
high  dignitaries  and  con- 
stituent members.    The 
last  riding,  marked  by 
unusual      pomp,      took 
place  on  6th  May  1703 
I  Rigging-tree,  the  principal 
,      beam  in  the  roof 
j  Roast,  rule  the  (p.  278).  a 
less  common  form  of  the 
I     saying  "  rule  the  roost  " 

Roe,  Richard.  See  Doe, 
John,  etc. 

Rote,  a  small  lute,  the 
strings  of  which  were 
played  by  turning  a 
wheel 

Rowing,  rocking,  rolling 

Rudel,  Geoffrey,  a  Gascon 
troubadour  of  the  12th 
century,  who  is  said  to 
have  died  for  love  of  the 
Countess  of  Tripoli  (in 
Syria) 

Rus  in  urbe,  the  country 
in  the  midst  of  the  towu 

Sacring  bell,  the  bell  rung 
at  the  elevation  of  the 
host  in  high  mass 

Sain,  to  pray  f or  a  bless- 
sing  on,  bless 

St.  Andrews,  the  seat  of  a 
university  in  Fif eshire 

St.  Clemenrs  day,  23d  No- 
vember, the  festival  of 
St.  Clement  the  Pope 

St.  Dunstan's  clock,  fig^tres 
on  (p.  xxiii.),  two  half- 
clad  giants,  armed  with 
clubs,  with  which  they 
struck  the  quarters.  St. 
Dunstan's  was  in  Fleet 
Street,  London 

St.  Hubert,  the  patron 
saint  of  those  who  follow 
the  chase.  See  Quentin 
Duru-nrd.  Note  4,  p.  435 

St.  Martin's  tide,  11th  No- 
vember 

Sarsnet,  or  sarsenet,  a 
kind  of  tliin,  soft  woven 
silk 

Sassenach,  Saxon,  i.e. 
Lowland  Scotch  or  Eng- 
lish 

Satis  est,  mi  fill,  enough, 
my  son 

Scandalum  magnatum,  an 
offence  against  those  in 
authority 

Schelm,  rascal,  scoundrel 

Scooroora,  or  Scui-uran, 
a  conspicuous  mountain 
overlooking  Glenshiel,  in 
the  extreme  south-west 
of  Ross-shire 

Scottish  Parliament,  rid 
ing  of.    See  Riding,  etc 


GLOSSARY 


185 


Sederunt,  a  meeting' 
Sennachie,  or  seannachie, 
a  Highland  chronicler  or 


Seiver,  the  officer  who  had 
charge  of  the  viands  at  a 
feast,  and  provided  wa- 
ter for  the  guests  to 
wash  their  fingers  with 

Shairman,  chairman,  por- 
ter to  carry  a  sedan 
chair,  in  old  Edinburgh 
generally  Highlanders 

Shieling,  a  Highland 
hut 

Shimei  and  Kidron.  See 
1  Kings  ii.  37 

Sic  itur  ad  astra,  this  is 
the  path  to  heaven 

Sidier  roy,  the  red  soldier, 
a  private  of  the  English 
army 

Sir  Pertinax,  i.e.  Sir  Per- 
tinax  MacSycophant,  in 
Macklin's  Man  of  the 
World  (1781) 

Sir  Tristrem,  Tristram, 
or  Tristan,  one  of  the 
knights  of  King  Arthur's 
Round  Table,  nephew  of 
King  Mark  of  Cornwall, 
and  a  famous  hunter 

Skaithis,  scathes,  hurts, 
harm 

Skirl,  to  screech,  creak 

Slaid.  slid  ;  or  perhaps 
staid,  remained  behind 

Snood,  a  fillet  or  ribbon  to 
bind  the  hair,  worn  by 
unmarried  young 
women  in  Scotland 

Societas  mater  discordiar- 
um.  partnership  is  the 
mother  of  discord 

Soldan,  sultan,  particu- 
larly Saladin.  the  enemy 
of  the  Crusader 

Spectator,  the  periodical 
written  by  Addison, 
Steele,  etc.  (1711-1712) 

Spoilt oon,  a  sort  of  half- 
pike  carried  by  certain 
officers  in  the  British 
army 

Sporran,  or  sporran  mol- 
lach,  the  goat-skin  pouch 
worn  by  Highlanders 
suspended  from  the 
waist 

fpringald,  a  youth 
taill,  the  main  body  of 
the  hunting-party 

Stewart.  John  Roy,  a  sup- 
porter of  Prince  Charles 
in  1745 

Stilts  (of  a  plough), 
handles 

Stirk,  a  young  bullock 

Strath,  a  valley 

Sub  vexillo,  etc.  (p.  342), 
under  the  royal  stand- 
ard in  the  battle   near 


Branxton,  i.e.  Flodden 
Field 

Surquedry,  self-impor- 
tance, assumption,  arro- 
gance 

Susannah  (chaste).  See 
in  The  Apocrypha  the 
book  entitled  "  The  His- 
tory of  Susanna" 

Swan,  Knight  of.  See 
Knight  of  tlie  Swan 

Tabatiere,  a  snuff-box 

Tacksman,  a  higher  class 
of  tenant 

Taliessin,  one  of  the  most 
renowned  of  the  ancient 
Welsh  bards 

Tanridor,  or  toreador,  a 
Spanish  bull-fighter,  es- 
pecially one  who  fights 
on  horseback 

Taymouth  Castle,  near  the 
north  end  of  Loch  Tay 
in  Perthshire,  the  seat 
of  the  Earl  of  Breadal- 
bane 

Teedling,  humming 

Teinds,  tithes 

Tester,  sixpenny  piece 

"  The  liable  Mortimer,^'' 
etc.  (p.  474),  from  Henry 
TV.,  Part  I.  Act  i.  sc.  1 

Threave,  two  dozen,  or  an 
indefinitely  large  num- 
ber 

Thrum  bonnet,  a  cap  made 
of  waste  yarn 

Tieck,  Johann  Litdwig, 
one  of  the  chiefs  (1773- 
1853)  of  the  Romantic 
School  of  Literature  in 
Germany 

Ti  miner  man.  Timmer 
(Danish,  tommer)  is  Scot- 
tish for  timber,  wood 

Tindis.  horns  of  a  stag 

Tintadgel,  or  Tintagel, 
King  Arthur's  castle  on 
the  west  coast  of  Corn- 
wall 

Toddis,  or  tods,  foxes 

Tongue- pad,  keep  (her) 
tongue  trotting,  going 

Touchstone,  the  clown  in 
Shakespeare's  As  You 
Like  It 

Toustie,  testy,  irascible 

Train,  the  tail  of  a  hawk 

Traist  servandis,  trusty 
servants 

Tre,  wood 

Trebuchet,  a  military  en- 
gine for  hurling  stones 
and  bolts 

Tremor  cordis,  palpita- 
tions of  the  heart 

Ti-es  faciunt  collegium,  it 
takes  three  (monks)  to 
make  a  college 

Treshornish,  more  cor- 
rectly     Treshinish,      a 


group  of  small  islands 

off    the    west   coast   of 

Mull 
Trew,  to  trow,  think 
Tristrem,  Sir.    See  Sir 

Tristrem 
Turnpike  stairs,  a  winding 

or  spiral  staircase 
Twelfth    Day,    Epiphany, 

the    twelfth   day   after 

Christmas  Day 
Tyne,  to  lose 

Uckeluryr,  men  of  high 
stature,  noble  chiefs 

Urie,  Kaim  og.  See  Kaim 
of  Urie 

Usquebaugh,  whisky 

Valet-de-place,  one  who 
acts  temporarily  as  valet 
to  a  stranger  staying  in 
a  town 

Vatcard,  the  van,  front  or 
early  part 

Viamos,  caracco  !  presum- 
ably for  Veamos  carac- 
co, let  us  see,  old  man 

Vicarage,  the  smaller 
tithes 

Vins  extra  ordin  aires, 
rare,  uncommon  wines 

VirgiVs  shepherd  (p.  333), 
an  allusion  to  Eclogues, 
i.  28-30 

Vis  unita  fortior,  united 
strength  is  stronger 

Vix  ea  nostra  voco,  declare 
this  is  hardly  our  own 

Volenti  non  fit  injuria,  to 
him  who  is  willing  there 
is  no  injury  done 

Vortigern,  the  British 
prince  who  invited  over 
Hengist  and  married  his 
daughter  Rowena 

Wade,  General,  his  mili- 
tary road.  In  the  years 
1720-1730  General  Wade 
laid  out  and  made  sev- 
eral  good  roads  through 
the  Highlands  as  a 
means  of  pacification 

W alk er''s,  a  tavern  in 
Writers'  Court,  off  the 
High  Street,  Edinburgh 

Walladmor,  by  G.  W.  H. 
Haring,  better  known  as 
Wilibald  Alexis,  a  Ger- 
man novelist  (1797-1870) 

Wan,  won,  gained 

Wanion,  with  a.  mischief 
befall  thee  1  with  a  male- 
diction upon  thee  ! 

Water  -  purpie,  common 
brook-lime,  a  species  of 
Veronica 

Wean,  infant,  little  child 

Weissenhorn,  a  small  Ba- 
varian  town,   about   10 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


miles  south-east  of  Ulm 
on  the  Danube 

Wlieeu,  a  few 

Whilk,  which 

White  cockade,  the  badge 
of  the  Stuarts  and  their 
adherents 

Vilkie,  Sir  David,  Scot- 
tish painter,  a  friend  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott's 


Wi)jdows,  tax  on,  the  fore- 
runner of  the  inhabited 
house  duty,  was  levied 
from  1795  to  1851 

Wolf-btird,  wolf-brood,  i.e. 
wolf-cub 

Wunna,  will  not 

Taud,  a  mare 

YMac  YJiihor,  the  coun- 


try of  the  Mackenzies  of 
Seaforth,  in  the  south- 
west of  Ross-shire 
Ywroken.     wreaked,     ac- 
complished 

Zimmermann,  a  German- 
Swiss  writer,  author  of 
a  celebrated  book  oa 
Solitude  (1755) 


INDEX 


ABBess,  Eveline's  aunt,  176 ;  resentment 
against  De  Lacy,  177 

Aldrovand,  Fatlier,  27  ;  suspects  Flam- 
moclc,  38  ;  accuses  him  ot  treacliery, 
49  ;  entrapped  by  him,  55  ;  discharges 
the  catapult,  66  ;  acts  as  guide  to  Vi- 
dal,  ^88 

Amelot,  Damian's  page,  239  ;  his  autlior- 
ity  resisted,  243 ;  marriage  to  Rose 
Flammock,  307 

Archers,  Welsh,  85,  468 

Armor,  rattle  of,  75,  468 

Author,  his  Introduction  to  The  Be- 
trothed, V  ;  to  Chronicles  of  the  Can- 
origate,  311  ;  his  eidolon  presides  at 
the  Waverley  Novel  meeting,  xiii  ; 
resolves  to  write  history,  xx 

Bahr-geist,  126,  134,  468 
Baldric,  the  Saxon  chief,  185 
Baldringham  House,   110 ;    specter  of, 

115,    131:    evening  at,   116;    haunted 

room,  125 
Baldwin  of  Canterbury,  1, 143, 163  ;  cites 

De  Lacy  before  him,  158  ;  interview 

with  him,  1G4  ;  explains  to  the  abbess, 

170 
Bards,  Welsh,  9 
Barri,  Giraldus  de.    See    Giraldus    de 


Bereuger,  Eveline,  4  ;  refused  to  Gwen- 
wyn,  13  ;  on  the  battlements,  27  ;  wit- 
nesses her  father's  death,  82 ;  her 
prayer  and  vow,  47 ;  rebukes  Rose, 
50 ;  encourages  the  defenders,  61  ; 
watches  by  night,  68  ;  gives  way  to 
grief,  72  ;  hears  the  coming  succor, 
73  ;  receives  Damian,  81,  89  ;  meets  the 
Constable,  93  ;  combats  Rose's  advice, 
98 ;  sets  out  for  Gloucester,  108  ;  in- 
vited to  Baldringham,  108;  arrival 
there,  110 ;  reproved  by  her  great- 
aunt,  112  ;  conducted  to  the  haunted 
chamber,  119;  rescued  from  the 
specter,  124:  her  hasty  departure, 
130 ;  the  story  of  the  bahr-geist,  134  ; 
her  encounter  with  the  specter,  137; 
supplicated  by  Randal  de  Lacy,  145  ; 
betrothed  to  the  Constable,  149 ;  her 
concern  at  Damian's  illness,  156  ;  holds 
to  her  engagement.  181  :  returns  to 
Garde  Dolou  reuse,  200  ;  manner  of  life 
there,  202;  thoughts  regarding  Da- 
mian. 207:  goes  out  hawking,  212: 
seized  by  the  banditti,  217;  thrust 
into  the  cave,  221 ;  makes  her  situa- 

487 


tion  known,  223  ;  liberated  by  Wilkin 

Flammock,  225 ;  carries  Damian  to 
Garde  Doloureuse,  237  ;  attends  him 
sick,  289,  252  ;  questions  Amelot,  239  ; 
proposes  to  lead  the  soldiers,  244 ; 
refuses  to  give  up  Damian,  256  ;  a 
prisoner  in  the  convent,  295;  her 
dream  of  Vanda,  296 ;  given  up  to 
Damian,  306 

Berenger,  Sir  Raymond,  3;  refuses 
Gwenwyn's  suit,  13  ;  prepares  to  de- 
fend his  castle,  16  ;  his  rash  promise, 
19;  gives  battle  to  the  Welsh,  29  ;  his 
death,  82  ;  funeral,  83 

Berwine,  112  ;  conducts  Eveline  to  the 
haunted  chamber,  119 

Betrothed,  the  novel,  Author's  Intro- 
duction to,  V  ;  Dr.  Dryasdust's  opinion 
of,  xvi 

Bradshaigh  of  Haigh  Hall,  x 

Brengvvain,  wife  of  Gwenwyn,  4 

British.    See  Welsh 

Cadwallon,  the  bard,  8 ;  declines  to 
play,  10 ;  his  war-song,  15 ;  brings 
good  tidings  of  Damian,  170 ;  his 
songs,  173, 188.  285  ;  asks  leave  to  fol- 
low De  Lacy,  174  ;  brings  bad  tidings, 
262 ;  asked  to  perform,  287 ;  stabs 
Randal,  289  ;  before  Henry  II.,  290  ; 
execution,  294 

Caradoc,  the  minstrel,  10 

Cargill,  Rev.  Josiah,  at  Waverley  Novel 
meeting,  xvi 

Castell-Coch,  6;  feast  at,  8 

Clutterbuck,  Captain,  at  Waverely 
Novel  meeting,  xvi 

Commons,  insurrection  of,  241,  849 

Constable  of  Chester.  See  Lacy, 
Hugo  de 

Crusaders,  Tales  of,  v 

Crusaders,  preaching  of,  1;  Baldwin's 
enthusiasm  for,  1,  163;  Flammock's 
views  of,  284 


De  Lacy.  See  Lacy,  Damian  de,  Hugo 
de,  and  Randal  de 

Dinmont,  Dandle,  his  son  at  Waverley 
Novel  meeting,  xiv 

Dousterswivel,  his  proposal  at  Waver- 
ley Novel  meeting,  xiv 

Drummelzier,  family  of,  vii 

Dryasdust,  Dr.,  at  Waverley  Novel 
meeting,  xvi 

Fnais  OP  thb  Gk>BLBTS,  cave  of,  221,  227 


dse 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


EflPeminacy,  taunt  of,  7, 487 

Einion,  Father,  12 

Ermengarde  of  Baldringham,  108,  111  ; 
reproves  Eveline,  ll'i ;  insists  on  the 
ordeal,  115  ;  angry  parting  from  Eve- 
Une,  130 

Eudorchawg  chains,  8,  167 

Falcons.    See  Hawks 
Fanshaw,  Lady,  Memoirs,  quoted,  468 
Flammock,      Rose,     23 ;   defends    her 
father,  49  ;  drags  him  before  Eveline, 
51 ;  on  the  battlements  with  Eveline, 

68  ;  comforts  her,  72  ;  rejects  the  Con- 
stable's gift,  96  ;  her  p.dvice  to  Eve- 
line, 98,  253 ;  concern  for  her,  122 ; 
warns  the  Norman  sentinel,  122  ;  sum- 
mons him,  124 ;  watches  over  Eve- 
line, 125  ;  criticises  the  specter  story, 
137  ;  expostulates  with  Eveline.  232  ; 
begs  her  father  to  shelter  Damian, 
232  ;  marriage  to  Amelot,  307 

Flammock,  Wilkin,  17  ;  commands  the 
castle,  22;  demands  wine,  24;  pre- 
pares for  the  Welsh  envoy,  37  ;  treats 
with  him,  41  ;  charged  with  treachery, 
49,  52  :  entraps  Aldrovand,  55 ;  out- 
wits Jorworth,  58  ;  works  the  man- 
gonel, 63  ;  sleeps  on  the  battlements, 

69  ;  asked  to  take  charge  of  Eveline, 
192  ;  liberates  her,  225  ;  his  attack  on 
the  Welsh,  229  ;  persuaded  to  take  in 
Damian,233  ;  his  conference  with  King 
Henry,  269 ;  obtains  special  privi- 
leges for  his  people,  273,  286 

Flemings,  in  England,  18;  privileges 
granted  to  them,  273,  286.  See  also 
Flammock,  Rose  and  Flammock, 
Wilkin 

Foot-pages,  9,  467 

Garde  Doloureuse.  castle  of,  27 ;  fight 
before,  29  ;  Welsh  assault  upon,  65 ; 
relief  of,  75  ;  the  plain  before,  after 
the  battle,  82  ;  life  in.  202  ;  summoned 
bv  the  roval  pursuivant,  255;  taken 
by  Prince  Richard,  272 

Garde  Doloureuse,  Our  Lady  of,  Eve- 
line's prayer  and  vow  to,  47 ;  sup- 
plication to,  237 

Genvil,  Ralph,  refuses  to  serve  under 
Amelot,  243  ;  reconciled  to  him,  247  ; 
his  advice  to  the  mutineers,  269 

Gillian,  Dame,  praises  Damian,  78 :  in- 
trigues with  the  pedler,  86  ;  her  panic 
terror,  124 ;  watches  the  wedding- 
guests,  150  :  praises  Randal,  152  ;  an- 
nounces the  hawk-merchant,  209  ; 
attends  Eveline  a-hawking,  214;  de- 
fends Damian  and  Eveline,  277  ;  last 
days  of,  307 

Giraldus  de  Barri,  1 

Gleichen,  Count,  lay  of,  206 

Glossary,  479 

Gryffyth  ap  Edwin's  wars,  xi 

Guarine,  Philip,  De  Lacy's  squire,  138, 
190  ;  disguised  as  a  palmer,  259  ;  his 
suspicions  of  Vidal,  260  ;  met  by  the 
groom.  284 

Gwenwyn  of  Pcwis  Land,  2 ;  sues  for 
Eveline's  hand,  4;  is  taunted  with 
eflfeminacy,  7 ;  is  told  of  Berenger's 


refusal,  13  ;  battle  with  him,  29  ;  slaya 
him,  32  ;  assaults  Garde  Doloureuse, 
65  ;  death  of,  81 

Hawks  and  hawking,  210,  215 

Henrv  L,  before  Garde  Doloureuse,  269  ; 

on  the  Welsh,  468 
Heron,  hunting  of,  215 

"  I  ASKED  of  my  harp,"  285 

Jenkins.  Henry,  468 
John,  Prince,  271 
Joint-stock  companies,  xiv,  yviii 
Jorworth,  Welsh  envoy,  11  ;  treats  with 
Flammock,  41 ;  outwitted,  58 

KiSTAVEN,  259 

Knight's  pennon,  246,  269 

Lacy,  Damian  de,  78  ;  delivers  his  mes- 
sage to  Eveline.  80  ;  asks  her  to  meet 
the  Constable,  89 ;  warned  by  Rose, 
122  ;  rescues  Eveline,  125  ;  his  rest- 
lessness, 144  ;  at  Eveline's  betrothal, 
153 :  his  illness,  155,  161  ;  entrusted 
with  the  charge  of  Eveline,  197;  his 
watchful  care  of  her,  202,  228  ;  lies 
wounded,  223  ;  taken  to  Garde  Dol- 
oureuse, 2:37  ;  on  the  sick-bed,  239, 
252 ;  appeals  to  the  mutineers,  268  ; 
interview  in  the  dungeon,  298 ;  Eve- 
line given  up  to  him,  306 

Lacy,  Hugo  de.  4,  32-  delivers  Garde 
Doloureuse,  75  ;  makes  peace  with  the 
Welsh,  88 ;  his  interview  with  Eve- 
line, 93;  escorts  her  to  Gloucester, 
103 ;  progress  of  his  suit,  141  ;  re- 
quests a  delay,  14;3 ;  betrothed  to 
Eveline,  149  ;  his  distress  at  Damian  s 
illness,  155, 161  ;  summoned  before  the 
Archbishop,  158  ;  accepts  Vidal's  ser- 
vices, 174 ;  seeks  to  propitiate  the 
abbess,  177;  interview  with  Eveline, 
179  ;  desires  Flammock  to  take  charge 
of  her,  192  ;  entrusts  her  to  Damian, 
197  ;  in  the  garb  of  a  palmer,  259  ;  is 
told  bad  tidings,  262  ;  his  bearing  in 
adversity,  275  ;  learns  the  real  facts 
from  Gillian,  277  .  questions  Vidal, 
292  ;  interview  with  Damian,  298  ;  re- 
signs  Eveline  to  him.  306 

Lacy,  Randal  de,  at  Berenger's  funeral, 
84  ;  craves  Eveline's  mediation,  145  ; 
praised  by  Dame  Gillian,  152  ;  as  a 
hawk-merchant,  210 ;  attempts  t  c 
carry  otf  Eveline,  220  ;  usurps  head- 
ship of  the  family,  267 ;  stabbed  by 
Vidal,  289 

Lyttleton,  History  of  England,  quoted, 
xi 

Macdonald  of  the  Isles,  anecdote  of,  467 

Mandrin,  French  smuggler,  469  j 

Margery,  Mrs..  79  :  scorns  the  pedlar's 
overtures,  85 

Meat  sold  by  measure,  55,  468 

Monthemer.  Guy,  255 

3Ioringer,  the  noble,  tale  of,  vii 

Morolt.  Dennis,  17  :  objects  to  leave  his 
master,  21 ;  his  death,  32 

Noble  Moringer.  tale  of,  vii 


I 


INDEX 


Normans,  taste  of,  8  ;  elegance  in  dress, 
112;  pride  of  blood,  306 

Oldbuck,  Jonathan,  at  Waverley  Novel 
meeting,  xiii 

Pain,  sensibility  to,  376,  469 

Palmers,  259.    See  also  Guarine,  Philip, 

and  Lacy,  Hugo  de 
Paritor,  or  archbishop's  summoner,  158 
Pennon,  knights,  240,  469 
Pontoys,  Stephen,  246,  248 
Powis  Castle.    See  Castell-Coch 

Raodl,  the  huntsman,  23,  79  ;  his  re- 
venge on  the  steward,  104  ;  watches 
the  wedding-guests,  150  ;  his  affection 
for  Damian,  153  ;  bargains  with  the 
hawlt-merchant,  210  ;  meets  the  pil- 
grims, 277 

Red-Finger,  haunted  chamber  of,  135  ; 
legend  of,  134 

Red  Pool,  214 

Reinold,  the  butler,  24 

Richard,  Prince,  271 ;  captures  Garde 
Doloureuse,  272 

"  Soldier,  wake  1  The  day  is  peeping," 
178 


Southey,  Madoc,  quoted,  467 
Steward,  RaouPs  revenge  upon,  10^ 

Tales  of  the  Crusaders,  Author's  ex- 
planation of,  V 

Talisman,  the  novel,  xvi 

Templeton,  Laurence,  at  Waverley 
Novel  meeting,  xv 

Tweedie,  family  of,  vi 

Vanda,  Saxon    lady,  135 ;    appears  ia 

Eveline's  dream,  296 
Vidal,  Renault.    See  CadwaUon 
Vorst,  Peterkin,  69 

Walladmor,  novel  by  Haring,  xvi 

Waverley  Novels,  joint-stock  comoany 
for  writing,  xiii 

Welsh,  Gwenwyn's  force,  before  Garde 
Doloureuse,  28  ;  fight  with  Berenger's 
men,  29 ;  assault  Garde  Doloureuse, 
65  ;  surprised  by  De  Lacy,  75 

Welsh,  nation,  wars  of,  xv,  1  ;  banquet, 
8  ;  houses,  9,  467  ;  gold  chains,  8,  467  •, 
bards,  9 ;  courage,  34,  467  ;  archers, 
65,  468  ;  cruelties  of,  88,  468 

Wenlock,  Wild,  241,245,  250 

"  Widow'd  wife  and  married  raaid,"  189 

'•  Woman's  faith  and  woman's  tnist," 
186 


INDEX  TO  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  CANONGATE 

AND 

THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW 


Allan,  Mr.  William,  at  Theatrical  Fund 
Dinner,  465 

Arlecliio,  or  harlequin,  313 

Author,  his  Introduction  to  Ghronicles 
uf  the  Canongate,  311  ;  his  financial 
misfortunes,  312  ;  his  anonymity,  314, 
323  ;  motives  for  it,  330 ;  presides  at 
Theatrical  Fund  Dinner,  457  ;  on  the 
drama.  458;  acknowledges  author- 
ship of  Waverley  Novels,  461 

Awe,  Loch,  398,  474  ;  battle  beside,  475 

Baliol.  Mrs.  Bethune,  prototype  of,  323; 
description  of,  377,  383 ;  her  enter- 
tainments, 383  ;  her  Scottish  accent, 
3K5  ;  reminiscences  of  former  days, 
886  ;  story  of  TJie  Highland  Widow, 
395  ;  her  interview  with  the  Highland 
Widow,  401 

Bailors  Lodging,  Edinburgh,  377 

Bannatyne  Club,  340,471 

Barcaldine,  420 

Beauffet,  Mrs.  Baliol's  butler,  879 

Bell,  Mr.  H.  G.,  speech  at  Theatrical 
Fund  Dinner,  464 

Bellenden,  translation  of  Boece  quoted, 
469 

Ben  Cruachan,  .398 

Birrell.  Diary,  quoted,  473 

Black  Watch,  380,  473 

Boece,  quoted,  469 

Boswell's  Johnson,  quoted,  472 

Bowles,  Rev.  Mr.,  on  Salisbury  Crags, 
473 

Brandir,  rocks  of,  in  Loch  Awe,  474 

Bride  of  LamTnermoor,  source  of,  316 

Bruce,  battle  with  Macdougal  of  Lorn, 
398,  475 


339  :  revisits  Glentanner,  346  ;  visits 
Christie  Steele,  356  ;  her  bad  opinion 
of  him,  361  ;  looks  up  Janet  MacEvoy, 
365;  settles  in  the  Canongate,  369; 
proposes  to  publish,  371  ;  his  rela- 
tions with  Mrs.  Bethune  Baliol,  386 

Deans,  Jeanie,  Mrs.  Goldie  on,  316 
Drama  and  stage.  Author  on,  458 
Dunbarton,  Castle  of,  448 
Duntarkin,  house  and  ion,  352,  356 

Edinburgh,  Canongate,  337  ;  Holyrood 
asylum,  328  ;  King's  Park,  329  ;■  Salis- 
bury  Crags.  380,  472 
Eglinton,  Countess  of,  385.  472 
Encyclopcedia  Britannica,  quoted,  475 

Fairscribe,  Mr.,  337,  344 

Glencoe,  Massacre  of,  431,  475 

Glentanner,  estate  of,  340,  342 ;  adver- 
tisement of  sale  of,  345  ;  revisited  by 
Mr.  Croftangry,  »46 

Glossary,  479 

Goldie,  Mrs.,  816 

Harlequin,  313 

Highlanders  military  habits  of,  430: 
fldelitv  of,  431,  476 

Highlands,  chiefs,  389 ;  bi'idges,  397, 
474  ;  regiments,  430  ;  roads,  399 

Highland  Widow,  origin  of,  324  ;  nar- 
rative, 395.  See  also  MacTavish, 
Elspat 

Holyrood,  asylum  for  debtors,  328,  469 

Horace,  Satires,  quoted,  351 ;  Pope's  imi- 
tation of,  471 


John,  Mr.  Sommerville's  servant,  332 
Jones,  Mr.,  a<.  Theatrical  Fund  Dinner, 


Caderfae,  or  Seaforth,  419 

Cameron,  Sergeant  Allan  Breack,  shot 

dead,  442 
Campbell,  Captain  Colin,  446 
Canongate,  Edinburgh,  337 
Chambers,    Traditions   of  Edinburgh, 

quoted,  472 
Chronicles  of  the  Canongate,  Author's 

Introduction  to,  311  ;  narrative  of  Mr. 

Croftangry,  327 
Cloght-dearg,  or  Redmantle,  450 
Colin,  Green.    See  Campbell,    Captain    Macdougal  of  Lorn,  battle  with  Bruce, 

Colin  !      399,  475 

Croftangry,  Chrystal.  Author  on,  324  ;  i  MacEvoy,  Janet,  319  ;    delight  to  sea 

his  account  of  himself,  327 ;  in   the  j      Croftangry    again,    365  ;     made    hit 

sanctuary    of    Holyrood,    328  ;  visits  I      housekeeper,  368 

Mr.  Sommerville,  332 ;  his  pedigree,  '  MacGregor  of  Glenstrae,  389,  47& 
490 


Keith,  Mrs.  Murray,  323,  469 
Keiths  of  Craig,  469 
Kinedder,  Lord,  319 

Lambskin,  Mrs.  Alice,  383 

Legend  of  Montrose,  remarks  on,  819 


INDEX 


491 


Mackay,  Mr. ,  at  Theatrical  Fund  Dinner, 

459,  401 

3IacLeish,  Donald,  postilion,  390,  395  ; 
points  out  Elspat's  hut,  401 

MacPhadraick,  Miles,  411,  417 

MacTavish,  Elspat,  401,  403  ;  her  affec- 
tion for  her  son,  408,  412  ;  grief  at  his 
enlistment,  417  ;  incites  him  to  desert, 
422  ;  drugs  him,  428  ;  urges  him  to 
flight,  434  ;  kneels  for  his  pardon,  438  ; 
taunts  the  Cameron  women,  444;  hears 
of  her  son's  execution,  454 ;  disap- 
pears, 455 

MacTavish,  Hamish  Bean,  407 ;  leaves 
home,  410  ;  returns,  417  ;  explains  his 
enlistment,  418  ;  horror  of  the  lash, 
423 ;  sees  apparition  of  his  father, 
426  ;  takes  the  drugged  draught,  438  ; 
awakens  too  late,  431  ;  questions  Rev. 
Mr.  Tyrie,  433  ;  hi.s  resolve,  438  ;  shoots 
Sergeant  Cameron,  442;  his  arrest, 
443:  execiition,  448 

MacTavish  Mhor,  Hamish,  405 

Maitland,  William,  cited,  329 

Meadowbank,  Lord,  reveals  the  Au- 
thor's secret,  314,  460 

Menzies,  Mr,,  at  Theatrical  Fund  Dinner, 
464 

Mottoes,  Author's  remark  on  his,  320 

Murray,  Mr.  William,  at  Theatrical 
Fund  Dinner,  462 

Nichols,  Progresses  of  James  L,  quoted, 


Oldbuck,  Jonathan,  prototype  of,  817 
Old  Mortality,  Mr.  Train's  notes  for,  315 

Piper,  Mr.,  stage-coach  contractor,  346 
Pope,  imitation  of  Horace,  471 

Rasp,  iron,  on  doors.  379.  472 
Robertson.  Patrick,  at  Theatrical  Fund 
Dinner,  461, 4«i3,  465 


Salisbury  Crags,  Kdinburgh,  880,  478 

Scotch  accent,  Mrs.  BalioPs,  385 

Scott,  Sir  Walter.    See  Author 

Sic  itur  ad  astra,  327 

Sommerville,  Miss  Nelly,  332 

Sommerviile,  Mr.,  helps  Croftangry, 
330  ;  his  last  illness,  332 

Sommerville  family,  340,  iV. 

Stage-coaches,  346 

Steele,  Christie,  at  Duntarkin,  352  ;  ac- 
count of  her,  354  ;  her  reception  of 
Croftangry,  357  ;  discourses  on  the 
Crof  tangrys,  359  ;  ill  opinion  of  Chrys- 
tal  Croftangry,  361 

Steele,  the  Covenanter,  354,  471 

Stewart  of  Garth,  Sketches  oj  High- 
landers, quoted,  476 

Stewart  of  Invernahyle,  317 

Swift,  Dean,  Journal  to  Stella,  quoted, 
389  ;  Life  of  Cieichton,  quoted,  471 

Talbot,  Colonel,  prototype  of,  317 

Theatrical  Fund  Dinner,  Edinburgh, 
314,  457 

Train.  Joseph,  his  assistance  to  the  Au- 
thor, 315 

Treddles,  Castle,  349 

Treddles,  Mr.,  851,  858 ;  arms  of,  859 

Treddles  Arms,  inn,  357 

Tico  Drovers,  origin  of,  824 

Tyrie,  Rev.  Mi.hael,  questioned  by 
Hamish  Bean,  4.3::! ;  intervenes  on  his 
behalf,  446 ;  carries  his  last  message 
to  his  mother.  449  ;  meeting  with  her, 
451 

Vandenhoff,  Mr.,  at  Theatrical  Fund 
Dinner,  462 

Wade,  General,  Highland  roads  of,  399 
Waverley,  explanation  regarding,  817 
"  What  ails  me,"  etc  ,  370 
Whitefoord,  Colonel,  317 
Winton.  Earl  of,  his  funeral,  388,  478 
Wolf's  Hope,  prototypes  of,  880 


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INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  TALISMAN 


The  Betrothed  did  not  greatly  please  one  or  two  friends, 
who  thought  that  it  did  not  well  correspond  to  the  general 
title  of  The  Crusaders.  They  urged,  therefore,  that,  with- 
out direct  allusion  to  the  manners  of  the  Eastern  tribes,  and 
to  the  romantic  conflicts  of  the  period,  the  title  of  a  Tale  of 
the  Crusaders  would  resemble  the  playbill  which  is  said  to 
have  announced  the  tragedy  of  Hamlet,  the  character  of  the 
Prince  of  Denmark  being  left  out.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
felt  the  difficulty  of  giving  a  vivid  picture  of  a  part  of  the 
world  with  which  I  was  almost  totally  unacquainted,  unless 
by  early  recollections  of  the  ArahiaJi  Nights'  Entertain- 
ments ;  and  not  only  did  I  labor  under  the  incapacity  of 
ignorance,  in  which,  as  far  as  regards  Eastern  manners,  I 
was  as  thickly  wrapped  as  an  Egyptian  in  his  fog  ;  but  my 
contemporaries  were,  many  of  them,  as  much  enlightened 
upon  the  subject  as  if  they  had  been  inhabitants  of  the 
favored  land  of  Goshen.  The  love  of  traveling  had  pervaded 
all  ranks,  and  carried  the  subject  of  Britain  into  all  quarters 
of  the  world.  Greece,  so  attractive  by  its  remains  of  art,  by 
its  struggles  for  freedom  against  a  Mohammedan  tyrant,  by 
its  very  name,  where  every  fountain  had  its  classical  legend 
— Palestine,  endeared  to  the  imagination  by  yet  more  sacred 
remembrances,  had  been  of  late  surveyed  by  British  eyes, 
and  described  by  recent  travelers.  Had  1,  therefore,  at- 
tempted the  difficult  task  of  substituting  manners  of  my 
own  invention,  instead  of  the  genuine  costume  of  the  East, 
almost  every  traveler  I  met,  who  had  extended  his  route 
beyond  what  was  anciently  called  ''  the  grand  tour,"  had 
acquired  a  right,  by  ocular  inspection,  to  chastise  me  for  my 
presumption.  Every  member  of  the  Travelers'  Club,  who 
could  pretend  to  have  thrown  his  shoe  over  Edom,  was,  by 
having  done  so,  constituted  my  lawful  critic  and  corrector. 
It  occurred,  therefore,  that,  where  the  author  of  Anastasius, 
as  well  as  he  of  Hadji  Baba,  had  described  the  manners  and 
vices  of  the  Eastern  nations,  not  only  with  fidelity,  but  with 
the  humor  of  Le  Sage  and  the  ludicrous  power  of  Fielding 
himself,  one  who  was  a  perfect  stranger  to  the  subject  must 

T 


?1  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

necessarily  produce  an  unfavorable  contrast.  The  Poet 
Laureate  also,  in  the  charming  tale  of  T/udaba,  had  shown 
how  extensive  might  be  the  researches  of  a  person  of  acquire- 
ments and  talent,  by  dint  of  investigation  alone,  into  the 
ancient  doctrines,  history,  and  manners  of  the  Eastern  coun- 
tries, in  which  we  are  probably  to  look  for  the  cradle  of 
mankind  ;  Moore,  in  his  Lalla  Rookh,  had  successfully  trod 
the  same  path  ;  in  which,  too,  Byron,  joining  ocular  experi- 
ence to  extensive  reading,  had  written  some  of  his  most 
attractive  poems.  Tn  a  word,  the  Eastern  themes  had  been 
already  so  snccessfully  handled  by  those  who  were  acknowl- 
edged to  be  masters  of  their  craft,  that  I  was  diffident  of 
making  the  attempt. 

These  were  powerful  objections,  nor  did  they  lose  force 
when  they  became  the  subject  of  anxious  reflection,  although 
they  did  not  finally  prevail.  The  arguments  on  the  other 
side  were,  that  though  I  had  no  hope  of  rivaling  the  con- 
temporaries Avhom  1  have  mentioned,  yet  it  occurred  to  me 
as  possible  to  acquit  myself  of  the  task  1  was  engaged  in 
without  entering  into  competition  with  them. 

The  period  relating  more  immediately  to  the  Crusades 
which  I  at  last  fixed  upon  was  that  at  which  the  warlike 
character  of  Richard  I.,  wild  and  generous,  a  pattern  of 
chivalry,  with  all  its  extravagant  virtues  and  its  no  less  ab- 
surd errors,  was  opposed  to  that  of  Saladin,  in  which  the 
Christian  and  English  monarch  showed  all  the  cruelty  and 
violence  of  an  Eastern  sultan,  and  Saladin,  on  the  other 
hand,  disj^layed  the  deep  policy  and  prudence  of  a  European 
sovereign,  whilst  each  contended  which  should  excel  the 
other  in  the  knightly  qualities  of  bravery  and  generosity. 
This  singular  contrast  afforded,  as  the  Author  conceived, 
materials  for  a  work  of  fiction  possessing  peculiar  interest. 
One  of  the  inferior  characters  introduced  was  a  supposed 
relation  of  Eichard  Coeur-de-Lion — a  violation  of  the  truth 
of  history  which  gave  offense  to  Mr.  Mills,  the  author  of  the 
History  of  Chivahy  and  the  Crusades,  who  was  not,  it  may 
be  presumed,  aware  that  romantic  fiction  naturally  includes 
the  power  of  such  invention,  which  is  indeed  one  of  the 
requisites  of  the  art. 

Prince  David  of  Scotland,  who  was  actually  in  the  host, 
fend  was  the  hero  of  some  very  romantic  adventures  on  his 
way  home,  was  also  pressed  into  my  service,  and  constitutes 
one  of  my  dramatis  pe?-son(s. 

It  is  true  I  had  already  brought  upon  the  field  him  of  the 
Lion  Heart.     But  it  was  in  a  more  private  capacity  than  he 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  TALISMAN  vn 

was  here  to  be  exhibited  in  Tlie  Talisman :  then  as  a  dis- 
guised knight,  now  in  the  avowed  character  of  a  conquering 
monarch  ;  so  that  I  doubted  not  a  name  so  dear  to  English- 
men as  that  of  King  Kichard  I.  might  contribute  to  their 
amusement  for  more  than  once.* 

I  had  access  to  all  which  antiquity  believed,  whether  of 
reality  or  fable  on  the  subject  of  that  magnificent  warrior, 
who  was  the  proudest  boast  of  Europe  and  their  chivalry, 
and  with  whose  dreadful  name  the  Saracens,  according  to  a 
liistorian  of  their  own  country,  were  wont  to  rebuke  their 
startled  horses.  "  Do  you  think,"  said  they,  "  that  King 
Richard  is  on  the  track,  that  you  spring  so  wildly  from  it  ?" 
Tlie  most  curious  register  of  the  history  of  King  Eichard  is 
an  ancient  romance,  translated  originally  from  the  Norman, 
and  at  first  certainly  having  a  pretense  to  be  termed  a  work 
of  chivalry,  but  latterly  becoming  stuffed  with  the  most  as- 
tonishing and  monstrous  fables.  There  is  perhaps  no  met- 
rical romance  upon  record  where,  along  with  curious  and 
genuine  history,  are  mingled  more  absurd  and  exaggerated 
incidents.  We  have  placed  in  the  Appendix  the  passage  of 
the  romance  in  which  Richard  figures  as  an  ogre,  or  literal 
cannibal. 

A  principal  incident  in  the  story  is  that  from  which  the 
title  is  derived.  Of  all  people  who  ever  lived,  the  Persians 
were  perhaps  most  remarkable  for  their  unshaken  credulity 
in  amulets,  spells,  periapts,  and  similar  charms,  framed,  it 
was  said,  under  the  influence  of  particular  planets,  and  be- 
stowing high  medical  powers,  as  well  as  the  means  of  ad- 
vancing men's  fortuned  in  various  manners.  A  story  of  this 
kind,  relating  to  a  crusader  of  eminence,  is  often  told  in  the 
west  of  Scotland,  and  the  relic  alluded  to  is  still  in  existence, 
and  even  yet  held  in  veneration. 

Sir  Simon  Lockhart  of  Lee  and  Cartland  made  a  consider- 
able figure  in  the  reigns  of  Eobert  the  Bruce  and  of  his  son 
David.  He  was  one  of  the  chief  of  that  band  of  Scottish 
chivalry  who  accompanied  James,  the  Good  Lord  Douglas, 
on  his  expedition  to  the  Holy  Land,  with  the  heart  of  King 
Eobert  Bruce.  Douglas,  impatient  to  get  at  the  Saracens, 
entered  into  war  with  those  of  Spain,  and  was  killed  there. 
Lockhart  proceeded  to  the  Holy  Land  with  such  Scottish 
knights  as  had  escaped  the  fate  of  their  leader,  and  assisted 
for  some  time  in  the  wars  against  the  Saracens. 

The  following  adventure  is  said  by  tradition  to  have  be- 
fallen him.  He  made  prisoner  in  battle  an  emir  of  consider- 
*  [See  Lockhart,  Life  of  Scott,  vol.  vii.  p.  386.] 


^^  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

able  wealth  and  consequence.  The  aged  mother  of  the  cap- 
tive came  to  tlie  Christian  camp,  to  redeem  her  son  from  his 
state  of  captivity.  Lockhart  is  said  to  have  fixed  the  price 
at  which  his  prisoner  should  ransom  himself ;  and  the  lady, 
pulling  out  a  large  embroidered  purse,  proceeded  to  tell  down 
the  ransom,  like  a  mother  who  pays  little  respect  to  gold  ia 
comparison  of  her  son's  liberty.  In  this  operation,  a  pebble 
inserted  in  a  coin,  some  say  of  the  Lower  Empire,  fell  out  of 
the  purse,  and  the  Saracen  matron  testified  so  much  haste 
to  recover  it  as  gave  the  Scottish  knight  a  high  idea  of  its 
value,  when  compared  with  gold  or  silver.  "  I  will  not  con- 
sent," he  said,  "  to  grant  your  son's  liberty,  unless  that 
amulet  be  added  to  his  ransom."  The  lady  not  only  con- 
sented to  this,  but  explained  to  Sir  Simon  Lockhart  the 
mode  in  which  the  talisman  was  to  be  used,  and  the  uses  to 
which  it  might  be  put.  The  water  in  which  it  was  dipt 
operated  as  a  styptic,  as  a  febrifuge,  and  possessed  several 
other  properties  as  a  medical  talisman. 

Sir  Simon  Lockhart,  after  much  experience  of  the  wonders 
which  it  wrought,  brought  it  to  his  own  country,  and  left  it 
to  his  heirs,  by  whom,  and  by  Clydesdale  in  general,  it  was, 
and  is  still  distinguished  by  the  name  of  the  Lee  Penny,* 
from  the  name  of  his  native  seat  of  Lee. 

The  most  remarkable  part  of  its  history,  perhaps,  was, 
that  it  so  especially  escaped  condemnation  when  the  Church 
of  Scotland  chose  to  impeach  many  other  cures  which  savored 
of  the  miraculous,  as  occasioned  by  sorcery,  and  censured 
the  appeal  to  them,  "  excepting  only  that  to  the  amulet 
called  the  Lee  Penny,  to  which  it  had  pleased  God  to  annex 
certain  healing  virtues  which  the  Church  did  not  presume 
to  condemn."  It  still,  as  has  been  said,  exists,  and  its  powers 
are  sometimes  resorted  to.  Of  late  they  have  been  chiefly 
restricted  to  the  cure  of  persons  bitten  by  mad  dogs  ;  and  as 
the  illness  in  such  cases  frequently  arise  from  imagination, 
there  can  be  no  reason  for  doubting  that  water  which  has 
been  poured  on  the  Lee  Penny  furnishes  a  congenial  cure. 

Such  is  the  tradition  concerning  the  talisman,  which  the 
Author  has  taken  the  liberty  to  vary  in  applying  it  to  his  own 
purposes. 

Considerable  liberties  have  also  been  taken  with  the  truth 
of  history,  both  with  respect  to  Conrade  of  Montserrat's  life 
as  well  as  his  death.  That  Conrade,  however,  was  reckoned 
the  enemy  of  Richard  is  agreed  both  in  history  and  romance. 
The  general  opinion  of  the  terms  upon  which  they  stood 
*  See  Note  1. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  TALISMAN  it 

may  be  guessed  from  the  proposal  of  the  Saracens,  that  the 
Marquis  of  Montserrat  should  be  invested  with  certain  parts 
of  Syria,  which  they  were  to  yield  to  the  Christians. 
Richard,  according  to  the  romance  which  bears  his  name, 
"could  no  longer  repress  his  fury.  "^  The  Marquis,"  he 
said,  "  was  a  traitor,  who  had  robbed  the  Knights  Hospi- 
tallers of  sixty  thousand  pounds,  the  present  of  his  father 
Henry  ;  that  he  was  a  renegade,  whose  treachery  had  occa- 
sioned the  loss  of  Acre";  and  he  concluded  by  a  solemn 
oath,  that  he  would  cause  him  to  be  drawn  to  pieces  by  wild 
horses,  if  he  should  ever  venture  to  pollute  the  Chrisiian 
camp  by  his  presence.  Philip  attempted  to  intercede  in 
favor  of  the  Marquis,  and  throwing  down  his  glove,  offered 
to  become  a  pledge  for  his  fidelity  to  the  Christians  ;  but  his 
offer  was  rejected,  and  he  was  obliged  to  give  way  to  Richard's 
impetuosity." — [Ellis,  Specimens  of  Early  English  Metrical 
Romances,  1805,  vol.  ii.  p.  230.] 

Conrade  of  Montserrat  makes  a  considerable  figure  in  those 
wars,  and  was  at  length  put  to  death  by  one  of  the  follow- 
ers of  the  Scheik,  or  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain  ;  nor  did 
Richard  remain  free  of  the  suspicion  of  having  instigated 
his  death. 

It  may  be  said,  in  general,  that  most  of  the  incidents  in- 
troduced in  the  following  tale  are  fictitious  ;  and  that  reality, 
where  it  exists,  is  oulv  retained  in  the  characters  of  the 
piece. 

Ut  July,  1833. 


Mi 

Cri 

ki 

eai: 

pot 
k 

1 
k 
fror 
tlal 
ciec 
potf 

T 
ast; 

CODV 

fert: 

Cr 

ni^i 
lib, 
these 

mi 

eves 
bear; 
fere; 
lite  r, 


THE  TALISMAN 


CHAPTER  I 

They,  too,  retired 
To  the  wilderness,  but  'twas  with  arms. 

Paradise  Regaired. 

The  burning  sun  of  Syria  had  not  yet  attained  its  highest 
point  in  the  horizon,  when  a  knight  of  the  Red  Cross,  who 
had  left  his  distant  northern  home  and  joined  the  host  of  the 
Crusaders  in  Palestine,  was  pacing  slowly  along  the  sandy 
deserts  which  lie  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Dead  Sea,  or,  as  it  is 
called,  the  Lake  Asphaltites,  where  the  waves  of  the  Jordan 
pour  themselves  into  an  inland  sea,  from  which  there  is  no 
discharge  of  waters. 

The  warlike  pilgrim  had  toiled  among  cliffs  and  precipices 
during  the  earlier  part  of  the  morning  ;  more  lately,  issuing 
from  those  rocky  and  dangerous  defiles,  he  had  entered  upon 
that  great  plain,  where  the  accursed  cities  provoked,  in  an- 
cient days,  the  direct  and  dreadful  vengeance  of  the  Omni- 
potent. 

The  toil,  the  thirst,  the  dangers  of  the  way  were  forgotten, 
as  the  traveler  recalled  the  fearful  catastrophe  which  had 
converted  into  an  arid  and  dismal  wilderness  the  fair  and 
fertile  valley  of  Siddira,  once  well  watered,  even  as  the  gar- 
den of  the  Lord,  now  a  parched  and  blighted  waste,  con- 
demned to  eternal  sterility. 

Crossing  himself  as  he  viewed  the  dark  mass  of  rolling 
waters,  in  color  as  in  quality  unlike  those  of  every  other 
lake,  the  traveler  shuddered  as  he  remembered  that  beneath 
these  sluggish  waves  lay  the  once  proud  cities  of  the  plain, 
whose  grave  was  dug  by  the  thunder  of  the  heavens,  or  the 
eruption  of  subterraneous  fire,  and  whose  remains  were  hid, 
even  by  that  sea  which  holds  no  living  fish  in  its  bosom, 
bears  no  skiff  on  its  surface,  and,  as  if  its  own  dreadful  bed 
were  the  only  fit  receptacle  for  its  sullen  waters,  sends  not, 
like  other  lakes,  a  tribute  to  the  ocean.  The  whole  land 
around,  as  in  the  days  of  Moses,  was  "  brimstone  and  salt ; 


2  WA  VERLEY  NO  \ 'ELS 

it  is  not  sown,  nor  beareth,  nor  any  grass  groweth  thereon  *' ; 
the  land  as  well  as  the  lake  might  be  termed  dead,  as  pro- 
ducing nothing  having  resemblance  to  vegetation  ;  and  even 
the  very  air  was  entirely  devoid  of  its  ordinary  winged  in- 
habitants, deterred  probably  by  the  odor  of  bitumen  and  siil- 
f)hur,  which  the  burning  sun  exhaled  from  the  waters  of  the 
ake  in  steaming  clouds,  frequently  assuming  the  appearance 
of  waterspouts.  Masses  of  the  slimy  and  sulphureous  sub- 
stance called  naphtha,  which  floated  idly  on  the  sluggish 
and  sullen  waves,  supplied  those  rolling  clouds  with  new 
vapors,  and  afl'orded  awful  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the 
Mosaic  history. 

Upon  this  scene  of  desolation  the  sun  shone  with  almost 
intolerable  splendor,  and  all  living  nature  seemed  to  have 
hidden  itself  from  the  rays,  excepting  the  solitary  figure  which 
moved  through  the  flit.tmg  sand  at  a  foot's  pace,  and  ap- 
peared the  sole  breathing  thing  on  the  wide  surface  of  the 
plain.  The  dress  of  the  rider  and  the  accouterments  of  his 
horse  were  peculiarly  unfit  for  the  traveler  in  such  a  country. 
A  coat  of  linked  mail,  with  long  sleeves,  plated  gauntlets, 
and  a  steel  breastplate,  had  not  been  esteemed  a  sufficient 
weight  of  armor  :  there  was  also  his  triangular  shield  sus- 
pended round  his  neck,  and  his  barred  helmet  of  steel,  over 
which  he  had  a  hood  and  collar  of  mail,  which  was  drawn 
around  the  warrior's  shoulders  and  throat,  and  filled  up  the 
vacancy  between  the  hauberk  and  the  headpiece.  His  lower 
limbs  were  sheathed,  like  his  body,  in  flexible  mail,  securing 
the  legs  and  thighs,  while  the  feet  rested  in  plated  shoes, 
which  corresponded  with  the  gauntlets.  A  long,  broad, 
straight-shaped,  double-edged  falchion,  with  a  handle  formed 
like  a  cross,  corresponded  with  a  stout  poniard  on  the  other 
side.  The  knight  also  bore,  secured  to  his  saddle,  with  one 
end  resting  on  his  stirrup,  the  long  steel-headed  lance,  his 
own  proper  weapon,  which,  as  he  rode,  projected  backwards, 
and  displayed  its  little  pennoncelle,  to  dally  with  the  faint 
breeze,  or  drop  in  the  dead  calm.  To  this  cumbrous  equip- 
ment must  be  added  a  surcoat  of  embroidered  cloth,  much 
frayed  and  worn,  which  was  thus  far  useful,  that  it  excluded 
the  burning  rays  of  the  sun  from  the  armor,  which  they 
would  otherwase  have  rendered  intolerable  to  the  wearer. 
The  surcoat  bore,  in  several  places,  the  arms  of  the  owner, 
although  much  defaced.  These  seemed  to  be  a  couchant 
leopard,  with  the  motto,  "I  sleep — wakemf  not."  An  out- 
line of  the  same  device  might  be  traced  on  his  shield,  though 
many  a  blow  had  almost  effaced  the  painting.     The  flat  top 


THE  TALISMAN  3 

of  his  cumbrous  cylindrical  helmet  was  unadorned  with  any 
crest.  In  retaining  tlieir  own  unwieldy  defensive  armor, 
the  northern  Crusaders  seemed  to  set  at  defiance  the  nature 
of  the  climate  and  country  to  which  they  had  come  to 
war. 

The  accouterments  of  the  horse  were  scarcely  less  massive 
and  unwieldy  than  those  of  the  rider.  The  animal  had  a 
heavy  saddle  plated  with  steel,  uniting  in  front  with  a  species 
of  breast-plate,  and  behind  with  defensive  armor  made  to 
cover  the  loins.  Then  there  was  a  steel  ax,  or  hammer, 
called  a  mace-of-arms,  and  which  hung  to  the  saddle-bow  ; 
the  reins  were  secured  by  chain-work,  and  the  front-stall  of 
the  bridle  was  a  steel  plate,  with  apertures  for  the  eyes  and 
nostrils,  having  in  the  midst  a  short,  sharp  pike,  projecting 
from  the  forehead  of  the  horse  like  the  horn  of  the  fabulous 
unicorn. 

But  habit  had  made  the  endurance  of  this  load  of  panoply 
a  second  nature  both  to  the  knight  and  his  gallant  charger. 
Numbers,  indeed,  of  the  Western  warriors  who  hurried  to 
Palestine  died  ere  they  became  inured  to  the  burning  climate  ; 
but  there  were  others  to  whom  that  climate  became  innocent 
and  even  friendly,  and  amongst  this  fortunate  number  was 
the  solitary  horseman  who  now  traversed  the  border  of  the 
Dead  Sea. 

Nature,  which  cast  his  limbs  in  a  mold  of  uncommon 
strength,  fitted  to  wear  his  linked  hauberk  with  as  much 
ease  as  if  the  meshes  had  been  formed  of  cobwebs,  had  en- 
dowed him  with  a  constitution  as  strong  as  his  limbs,  and 
which  bade  defiance  to  almost  all  changes  of  climate,  as  well 
as  to  fatigue  and  privations  of  every  kind.  His  disposition 
seemed,  in  some  degree,  to  partake  of  the  qualities  of  his 
bodily  frame ;  and  as  the  one  possessed  great  strength  and 
endurance,  united  with  the  power  of  violent  exertion,  the 
other,  under  a  calm  and  undisturbed  semblance,  had  much 
of  the  fiery  and  enthusiastic  love  of  glory  which  constituted 
the  principal  attribute  of  the  renowned  Norman  line,  and 
had  rendered  them  sovereigns  in  every  corner  of  Europe 
where  they  had  drawn  their  adventurous  swords. 

It  was  not,  however,  to  all  the  race  that  fortune  proposed 
such  tempting  rewards  ;  and  those  obtained  by  the  solitary 
knight  during  two  years' campaign  in  Palestine  had  been  only 
temporal  fame,  and,  as  he  was  taught  to  believe,  spiritual 
privileges.  Meantime,  his  slender  stock  of  money  had  melted 
away,  the  rather  that  he  did  not  pursue  any  of  the  ordinary 
modes  by  which  the  followers  of  the  Crusade  condescended 


4  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  recruit  their  diminished  resources  at  the  expense  of  the 
people  of  Palestine  :  he  exacted  no  gifts  from  the  wretched 
natives  for  sparing  their  possessions  when  engaged  in  war- 
fare with  the  Saracens,  and  he  had  not  availed  himself  of  any 
opportunity  of  enriching  himself  by  the  ransom  of  prisoners 
of  consequence.  The  small  train  which  had  followed  him 
from  his  native  country  had  been  gradually  diminished,  as 
the  means  of  maintaining  them  disappeared,  and  his  only  re- 
maining squire  was  at  present  on  a  sick-bed,  and  unable  to 
attend  his  master,  who  traveled,  as  we  have  seen,  singly  and 
alone.  This  was  of  little  consequence  to  the  Crusader,  who 
was  accustomed  to  consider  his  good  sword  as  his  safest 
escort,  and  devout  thoughts  as  his  best  companion. 

Nature  had,  however,  her  demands  for  refreshment  and 
repose,  even  on  the  iron  frame  and  patient  disposition  of  the 
Knight  of  the  Sleeping  Leopard  ;  and  at  noon,  when  the 
Dead  Sea  lay  at  some  distance  on  his  right,  he  joyfully  hailed 
the  sight  of  two  or  three  palm-trees,  which  arose  beside  the 
well  which  was  assigned  for  his  midday  station.  His  good 
horse,  too,  which  had  plodded  forward  with  the  steady  en- 
durance of  his  master,  now  lifted  his  head,  expanded  his 
nostrils,  and  quickened  his  pace,  as  if  he  snuffed  afar  off  the 
living  waters,  which  marked  the  place  of  repose  and  refresh- 
ment. But  labor  and  danger  were  doomed  to  intervene  ere 
the  horse  or  horseman  reached  the  desired  spot. 

As  the  Knight  of  the  Couchant  Leopard  continued  to  fix 
his  eyes  attentively  on  the  yet  distant  cluster  of  palm-trees, 
it  seemed  to  him  as  if  some  object  was  moving  among  them. 
The  distant  form  separated  itself  from  the  trees,  which  partly 
hid  its  motions,  and  advanced  towards  the  knight  with  a 
speed  which  soon  shov/ed  a  mounted  horseman,  whom  his 
turban,  long  spear,  and  green  caftan  floating  in  the  wind,  on 
his  nearer  approach,  showed  to  be  a  Saracen  cavalier.  ''In 
the  desert,"  saith  an  Eastern  proverb,  "no  man  meets  a 
friend."  The  Crusader  was  totally  indifferent  whether  the 
infidel,  who  now  approached  on  his  gallant  barb,  as  if  borne 
on  the  wings  of  an  eagle,  came  as  friend  or  foe  ;  perhaps  as  a 
vowed  champion  of  the  Cross,  he  might  rather  have  pre- 
ferred the  latter.  He  disengaged  his  lance  from  his  saddle, 
seized  it  with  the  right  hand,  placed  it  in  rest  with  its  point 
half  elevated,  gathered  up  the  reins  in  the  left,  waked  hisj 
horse's  mettle  with  the  spur,  and  prepared  to  encounter  the  j 
stranger  with  the  calm  self-confidence  belonging  to  the' 
victor  in  many  contests. 

The  Saracen  came  on  at  the  speedy  gallop  of  an  Arab 


I 


THE  TALISMAN  5 

horseman,  managing  his  steed  more  by  liis  limbs  and  the  in- 
flection of  his  bod}^  than  by  any  use  of  the  reins,  which  hung 
loose  in  iiis  left  hand  ;  so  that  he  was  enabled  to  wield  the 
light  round  buckler  of  the  skin  of  the  rhinoceros,  orna- 
mented with  silver  loops,  which  he  wore  on  liis  arm,  swing- 
ing it  as  if  he  meant  to  oppose  its  slender  circle  to  the  for- 
midable thrust  of  the  Western  lance.  His  own  long  spear 
was  not  couched  or  leveled  like  that  of  his  antagonist,  but 
grasped  by  the  middle  with  his  right  hand,  and'brandished 
at  arm's  length  above  his  head.  As  the  cavalier  approached 
his  enemy  at  full  career,  he  seemed  to  expect  that  the  Knight 
of  the  Leopard  should  put  his  horse  to  the  gallop  to  encounter 
him.  But  the  Christian  kniglit,  well  acquainted  with  the 
customs  of  Eastern  warriors,  did  not  mean  to  exhaust  his 
good  horse  by  any  unnecessary  exertion  ;  and,  on  the  con- 
trary, made  a  dead  halt,  confident  that,  if  the  enemy  ad- 
vanced to  the  actual  shock,  his  own  weight,  and  that  of  his 
powerful  charger,  would  give  him  sufficient  advantage,  with- 
out the  additional  momentum  of  rapid  motion.  Equally 
sensible  and  apprehensive  of  such  a  probable  result,  the  Sar- 
acen cavalier,  when  he  had  approached  towards  tlie  Chris- 
tian within  twice  the  length  of  his  lance,  wheeled  his  steed 
to  the  left  with  inimitable  dexterity,  and  rode  twice  around 
his  antagonist,  who,  turning  without  quitting  his  ground, 
and  presenting  his  front  constantly  to  his  enemy,  frustrated 
his  attempts  to  attack  him  on  an  unguarded  point ;  so  that 
the  Saracen,  wheeling  his  horse,  was  fain  to  retreat  to  the 
distance  of  aii  hundred  yards.  A  second  time,  like  a  hawk 
attacking  a  heron,  the  Heathen  renewed  the  charge,  and  a 
second  time  was  fain  to  retreat  without  coming  to  a  close 
struggle,  A  third  time  he  approached  in  the  same  manner, 
when  the  Christian  knight,  desirous  to  terminate  this  illusory 
warfare,  in  which  he  might  at  length  have  been  worn  out  by 
the  activity  of  his  foeman,  suddenly  seized  the  mace  which 
hung  at  his  saddle-bow,  and,  with  a  strong  hand  and  un- 
erring aim,  hurled  it  against  the  head  of  the  Emir,  for  such 
and  not  less  his  enemy  appeared.  The  Saracen  was  just 
aware  of  the  formidable  missile  in  time  to  interpose  his  light 
buckler  betwixt  tlie  mace  and  his  head  ;  but  the  violence  of 
the  blow  forced  the  buckler  down  on  his  turban,  and  though 
that  defense  also  contributed  to  deaden  its  violence,  the 
Saracen  was  beaten  from  his  horse.  Ere  the  Christian  could 
avail  himself  of  this  mishap,  his  nimble  foeman  sprung  from 
the  ground,  and,  calling  ou  his  steed,  which  instantly  re- 
turned to  his  side,  he  leaped  into  his  seat  without  touching 


6  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

the  stirrup,  and  regained  all  the  advantage  of  which  the 
Knight  of  the  Leopard  hoped  to  deprive  him.  But  the 
latter  had  in  the  meanwhile  recovered  his  mace,  and  the 
Eastern  cavalier,  who  remembered  the  strength  and  dexterity 
with  which  his  antagonist  had  aimed  it,  seemed  to  keep 
cautiously  out  of  reach  of  that  weapon,  of  which  he  had  so 
lately  felt  the  force,  while  he  showed  his  purpose  of  waging 
a  distant  warfare  with  missile  weapons  of  his  own.  Planting 
his  long  spear  in  the  sand  at  a  distance  from  the  scene  of 
combat,  he  strung,  with  great  address,  a  short  bow,  which 
he  carried  at  his  back,  and  putting  his  horse  to  the  gallop, 
once  more  described  two  or  three  circles  of  a  wider  extent 
than  formerly,  in  the  course  of  which  he  discharged  six 
arrows  at  the  Christian  with  such  unerring  skill  that  the 
goodness  of  his  harness  alone  saved  him  from  being  wounded 
in  as  many  places.  The  seventh  shaft  apparently  found  a 
less  perfect  part  of  the  armor,  and  the  Christian  dropped 
heavily  from  his  horse.  But  what  was  the  surprise  of  the 
Saracen,  when,  dismounting  to  examine  the  condition  of  his 
prostrate  enemy,  he  found  himself  suddenly  within  the  grasp 
of  the  European,  who  had  had  recourse  to  this  artifice  to 
bring  his  enemy  within  his  reach  !  Even  in  this  deadly 
grapple  the  Saracen  was  saved  by  his  agility  and  presence  of 
mind.  He  unloosed  the  sword-belt,  in  which  the  Knight  of 
the  Leopard  had  fixed  his  hold,  and,  thus  eluding  his  fatal 
grasp,  mounted  his  horse,  which  seemed  to  watch  his  motions 
with  the  intelligence  of  a  human  being,  and  again  rode  off. 
But  in  the  last  encounter  the  Saracen  had  lost  his  sword 
and  his  quiver  of  arrows,  both  of  wliich  were  attached  to  thej 
girdle,  which  he  was  obliged  to  abandon.  He  had  also  lost] 
his  turban  in  the  struggle.  These  disadvantages  seemed  to 
incline  the  Moslem  to  a  truce  :  he  approached  the  Christian/ 
with  his  right  hand  extended,  but  no  longer  in  a  menacing 
attitude. 

*•'  There  is  truce  betwixt  our  nations,"  he  said,  in  th 
lingua  franca  commonly  used  for  the  purpose  of  communicaj 
tion  with  the  Crusaders  ;  "  wherefore  should  there  be  w; 
betwixt  thee  and  me  ?     Let  there  be  peace  betwixt  us," 

'*  I  am  well  contented,"  answered  he  of  the  Couchanj 
Leopard  ;  "  but  what  security  dost  thou  offer  that  thou  wilj 
observe  the  truce  ?  " 

"  The  word  of  a  follower  of  the  Prophet  was  never  broken 
answered    the  Emir.     "  It   is  thou,  brave    Kazarene,  fror| 
whom  I  should  demand  security,  did  I  not  know  that  treasoij 
seldom  dwells  with  courage." 


THE  TALISMAN  7 

The  Crusader  felt  that  the  confidence  of  the  Moslem  made 
him  ashamed  of  his  own  douhts. 

"  By  the  cross  of  my  sword/'  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  weapon  as  he  spoke,  "  I  will  be  true  companion  to  thee, 
Saracen,  while  our  fortune  wills  that  we  remain  in  company 
together." 

"  By  Mahommed,  Prophet  of  God,  and  by  Allah,  God  of 
the  Prophet,"  replied  his  late  foeman,  "  there  is  not  treach- 
ery in  my  heart  toward  thee.  And  now  wend  we  to  yonder 
fountain,  for  the  hour  of  rest  is  at  hand,  and  the  stream  had 
hardly  touched  my  lip  when  1  was  called  to  battle  by  thy 
approach." 

The  Knight  of  the  Couchant  Leopard  yielded  a  ready  and 
courteous  assent  ;  and  the  late  foes,  without  an  angry  look  or 
gesture  of  doubt,  rode  side  by  side  to  the  little  cluster  oi 
palm-trees. 


CHAPTER  n 

Times  of  danger  have  always,  and  in  a  peculiar  degree,  their 
seasons  of  good-will  and  of  security  ;  and  this  was  particularly 
so  in  the  ancient  feudal  ages,  in  which,  as  the  manners  of 
the  period  had  assigned  war  to  be  the  chief  and  most  worthy 
occupation  of  mankind,  the  intervals  of  peace,  or  rather  of 
truce,  were  highly  relished  by  those  warriors  to  whom  they 
were  seldom  granted,  and  endeared  by  the  very  circumstances 
which  rendered  them  transitory.  It  is  not  worth  while  pre- 
serving any  permanent  enmity  against  a  foe  whom  a  champion 
has  fought  with  to-day,  and  may  again  stand  in  bloody  op- 
position to  on  the  next  morning.  The  time  and  situation 
afforded  so  much  room  for  the  ebullition  of  violent  passions, 
that  men,  unless  when  peculiarly  opposed  to  each  other,  or 
provoked  by  the  recollection  of  private  and  individual  wrongs, 
cheerfully  enjoyed  in  each  other's  society  the  brief  intervals 
of  pacific  intercourse  which  a  warlike  life  admitted. 

The  distinction  of  religions,  nay,  the  fanatical  zeal  which 
animated  the  followers  of  the  Cross  and  of  the  Crescent 
against  each  other,  was  much  softened  by  a  feeling  so  natural 
to  generous  combatants,  and  especially  cherished  by  the  spirit 
of  chivalry.  This  last  strong  impulse  had  extended  itself 
gradually  from  the  Christians  to  their  mortal  enemies  the 
Saracens,  both  of  Spain  and  of  Palestine.  The  latter  were 
indeed  no  longer  the  fanatical  savages  who  had  burst  from 
the  center  of  Arabian  deserts,  with  the  saber  in  one  hand 
and  the  Koran  in  the  other,  to  inflict  death  or  the  faith  of 
Mahommed,  or,  at  the  best,  slavery  and  tribute,  upon  all  who 
dared  to  oppose  the  belief  of  the  prophet  of  Mecca.  These 
alternatives  indeed  had  been  offered  to  the  unwarlike  Greeks 
and  Syrians  ;  but  in  contending  with  the  western  Christians, 
animated  by  a  zeal  as  fiery  as  their  own,  and  possessed  of  as 
unconquerable  courage,  address,  and  success  in  arms,  the 
Saracens  gradually  caught  a  part  of  their  manners,  and  es- 
pecially of  those  chivalrous  observances  which  were  so  well 
calculated  to  charm  the  minds  of  a  proud  and  conquering 
people.  They  had  their  tournaments  and  games  of  chivalry  ; 
they  had  even  their  knights,  or  some  rank  analogous  ;  and, 
above  all,  the  Saracens  observed  their  plighted  faith  with  an 
8 


THE  TALISMAN  9 

accuracy  wliich  might  sometimes  put  to  shame  those  who 
owned  a  better  religion.  Their  truces,  whether  national  or 
betwixt  individuals,  were  faithfully  observed  ;  and  thus  it 
was  that  war,  in  itself  perhaps  the  greatest  of  evils,  yet  gave 
occasion  for  display  of  good  faith,  generosity,  clemency,  and 
even  kindly  affections,  which  less  frequently  occur  in  more 
tranquil  periods,  where  the  passions  of  men,  experiencing 
wrongs  or  entertaining  quarrels  which  cannot  be  brought  to 
instant  decision,  are  apt  to  smolder  for  a  length  of  time  in 
the  bosoms  of  those  who  are  so  unhappy  as  to  be  their  prey. 

It  was  under  the  influence  of  these  milder  feelings,  which 
soften  the  horrors  of  warfare,  that  the  Christian  and  Saracen, 
who  had  so  lately  done  their  best  for  each  other's  mutual 
destruction,  rode  at  a  slow  pace  towards  the  fountain  of  palm- 
trees,  to  which  the  Knight  of  the  Couchant  Leopard  had  been 
tending,  when  interrupted  in  mid-passage  by  his  fleet  and 
dangerous- adversary.  Each  was  wrapt  for  some  time  in  his 
own  reflections,  and  took  breath  after  an  encounter  which  had 
threatened  to  be  fatal  to  one  or  both  ;  and  their  good  horses 
seemed  no  less  to  enjoy  the  interval  of  repose.  That  of  the 
Saracen,  however,  though  he  had  been  forced  into  much  the 
more  vio-lent  and  extended  sphere  of  motion,  appeared  to  have 
suffered  less  from  fatigue  than  the  charger  of  the  European 
knight.  The  sweat  hung  still  clammy  on  the  limbs  of  the  last, 
when  those  of  the  noble  Arab  were  completely  dried  by  the 
interval  of  tranquil  exercise,  all  saving  the  foam-flakes  which 
were  still  visible  on  his  bridle  and  housings.  The  loose  soil 
on  which  he  trode  so  much  augmented  the  distress  of  the 
Christian's  horse,  heavily  loaded  by  his  own  armor  and  the 
weight  of  his  rider,  that  the  latter  jumped  from  his  saddle, 
and^led  his  charger  along  the  deep  dust  of  the  loamy  soil, 
'which  was  burnt  in  the  sun  into  a  substance  more  impalpable 
than  the  finest  sand,  and  thus  gave thefaithful  horse  refresh- 
ment at  the  expense  of  his  own  additional  toil  ;  for,  iron- 
sheathed  as  he  was,  he  sunk  over  the  mailed  shoes  at  every 
step  which  he  placed  on  a  surface  so  light  and  unresisting. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  Saracen,  and  it  was  the  first 
word  that  either  had  spoken  since  their  truce  was  concluded 
— "  your  strong  horse  deserves  your  care  ;  but  what  do  you 
in  the  desert  wUh  an  animal  which  sinks  over  the  fetlock  at 
every  step,  as  if  he  would  plant  each  foot  deep  as  the  root  of 
a  date-tree  ?" 

"'  Thou  speakest  rightly,  Saracen,"  said  the  Christian 
knight,  not  delighted  at  the  tone  with  which  the  infidel  criti- 
cised his  favorite  steed— "  rightly,  according  to  thy  knowl- 


10  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

edge  and  observation.  But  my  good  horse  hath  ere  now 
borne  me,  in  mine  own  land,  over  as  wide  a  lake  as  thon 
seest  yonder  spread  out  behind  us,  yetnotwet  one  hair  above 
his  hoof." 

The  Saracen  looked  at  him  with  as  much  surprise  as  his 
manners  permitted  him  to  testify,  which  was  only  expressed 
by  a  slight  approach  to  a  disdainful  smile,  that  hardly  curled 
perceptibly  the  broad  thick  mustachio  which  enveloped  his 
upper  lip. 

"  It  is  justly  spoken,"  he  said,  instantly  composing  himself 
to  his  usual  serene  gravity  :  ''list  to  a  Frank,  and  hear  a 
fable." 

"  Thou  art  not  courteous,  misbeliever,"  replied  the  Cru- 
sader, "  to  doubt  the  word  of  a  dubbed  knight ;  and  were  it 
not  that  thou  speakest  in  ignorance,  and  not  in  malice,  our 
truce  had  its  ending  ere  it  is  well  begun.  Thinkest  thou  I 
tell  thee  an  untruth  when  I  say  that  I,  one  of  five  hundred 
horsemen,  armed  in  complete  mail,  have  ridden — ay,  and 
ridden  for  miles,  upon  water  as  solid  as  the  crystal  and  ten 
times  less  brittle  ?  " 

"  What  wouldst  thou  tell  me?"  answered  the  Moslem. 
"  Yonder  inland  sea  thou  dost  point  at  is  peculiar  in  this, 
that,  by  the  especial  curse  of  God,  it  sutfereth  nothing  to 
sink  in  its  waves,  but  wafts  them  away,  and  casts  them  on  its 
margin  ;  but  neither  the  Dead  Sea  nor  any  of  the  seven 
oceans  which  environ  the  earth  will  endure  on  their  surface 
the  pressure  of  a  horse's  foot,  more  than  the  Red  Sea  endured 
to  sustain  the  advance  of  Pharaoh  and  his  host." 

''You  speak  truth  after  your  knowledge,  Saracen,"  said 
the  Christian  knight  ;  "  and  yet,  trust  me,  I  fable  not,  ac- 
cording to  mine.  Heat  in  this  climate  converts  the  soil  into 
something  almost  as  unstable  as  water  ;  and  in  my  land  cold 
often  converts  the  water  itself  into  a  substance  as  hard  as 
rock.  Let  us  speak  of  this  no  longer  ;  for  the  thoughts  of 
the  calm,  clear.,  blue  refulgence  of  a  winter's  lake,  glimmer- 
ing to  stars  and  moonbeam,  aggravate  the  horrors  of  this 
fiery  desert,  where,  methinks,  the  very  air  which  we  breathe 
is  like  the  vapor  of  a  fiery  furnace  seven  times  heated.'' 

The  Saracen  looked  on  him  with  some  attention,  as  if  to 
discover  in  what  sense  he  was  to  understand  words  which  to 
him  must  have  appeared  either  to  contain  something  of 
mystery  or  of  imposition.  At  length  he  seemed  determined 
in  what  manner  to  receive  the  language  of  his  new  companion. 

"  You  are,"  he  said,  "  of  a  nation  that  loves  to  laugh,  and 
you  make  sport  with  yourselves  and  with  others  by  telling 


THE  TALISMAN  11 

jvhat  is  impossible,  and  reporting  wliat  never  chanced.  Thou 
art  one  of  tlie  knights  of  France,  who  liohi  it  for  glee  and 
pastime  to  '  gab,'  *  as  they  term  it,  of  ex})loits  that  are  be- 
yond liuman  power.  I  were  wrong  to  ciiallenge,  for  the 
time,  the  privilege  of  thy  speech,  since  boasting  is  more  nat- 
uml  to  thee  than  truth." 

"I  am  not  of  their  land,  neither  of  their  fashion,"  said 
the  knight,  "  which  is,  as  thou  well  sayest,  to  'gab'  of  that 
which  they  dare  not  undertake,  or  undertaking  cannot  per- 
fect. But  in  this  I  have  intimated  their  folly,  brave  Saracen, 
that,  in  talking  to  thee  of  what  thou  canst  not  comprehend, 
I  have,  even  in  speaking  most  simple  truth,  fully  incurred 
the  character  of  a  braggart  in  thy  eyes  ;  so,  I  pray  yon,  let 
my  words  pass." 

They  had  now  arrived  at  the  knot  of  jDalm-trees,  and  the 
fountain  which  welled  out  from  beneath  their  shade  in  spark- 
ling profusion. 

We  have  spoken  of  a  moment  of  truce  in  the  midst  of  war  ; 
and  this,  a  spot  of  beauty  in  the  midst  of  a  sterile  desert,  was 
scarce  less  dear  to  the  imagination.  It  was  a  scene  which, 
perhaps,  would  elsewhere  have  deserved  little  notice  ;  but  as 
the  single  speck,  in  a  boundless  horizon,  which  promised  the 
refreshment  of  shade  and  living  water,  these  blessings  held 
cheap  where  they  are  common,  rendered  the  fountain  and 
its  neighborhood  a  little  paradise.  Some  generous  or  chari- 
table hand,  ere  yet  the  evil  days  of  Palestine  began,  had 
walled  in  and  arched  over  the  fountain,  to  preserve  it  from 
being  absorbed  in  the  earth,  or  choked  by  the  flitting  clouds 
of  dust  with  which  the  least  breath  of  wind  covered  the  des- 
ert. The  arch  was  now  broken  and  partly  ruinous  ;  but  it 
still  so  far  projected  over  and  covered  in  the  fountain,  that 
it  excluded  the  sun  in  a  great  measure  from  its  waters,  which, 
hardly  touched  by  a  straggling  beam,  while  all  around  was 
blazing,  lay  in  a  steady  repose,  alike  delightful  to  the  eye 
and  the  imagination.  Stealing  from  under  the  arch,  they 
were  first  received  in  a  marble  basin,  much  defaced  indeed, 
but  still  cheering  the  eye,  by  showing  that  the  place  was  an- 
ciently considered  as  a  station,  that  the  hand  of  man  had 
been  there,  and  that  man's  accommoda  tion  had  been  in  some 
measure  attended  to.  The  thirsty  and  weary  traveler  was 
reminded  by  these  signs  that  others  had  suffered  similar 
difficulties,  reposed  in  the  same  spot,  and,  doubtless,  found 
their  way  in  safety  to  a  more  fertile  country.  Again,  the 
icarce  visible  current  which  escaped  from  the  basin  served 
See  Gab,  Gaber.    Note  3. 


12  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

to  nourish  the  few  trees  which  surrounded  the  fountain,  and 
where  it  sunk  into  the  ground  and  disappeared  its  refreshing 
presence  was  acknowledged  by  a  carpet  of  velvet  verdure. 

In  this  delightful  spot  the  two  warriors  halted,  and  each, 
after  his  own  fashion,  proceeded  to  relieve  his  horse  from 
saddle,  bit,  and  rein,  and  permitted  the  animals  to  drink  at 
the  basin,  ere  they  refreshed  themselves  from  the  fountain- 
head,  which  arose  under  the  vault.  They  then  suffered  the 
steeds  to  go  loose^  confident  that  their  interest,  as  well  as 
their  domesticated  habits,  would  prevent  their  straying  from 
the  pure  water  and  fresh  grass. 

Christian  and  Saracen  next  sat  down  together  on  the  turf, 
and  produced  each  the  small  allowance  of  store  which  they 
carried  for  their  own  refres-hment.  Yet,  ere  they  severally 
proceeded  to  their  scanty  meal,  they  eyed  each  other  with  that 
curiosity  which  the  close  and  doubtful  conflict  in  which  they 
had  been  so  lately  engaged  was  calculated  to  inspire.  Each 
was  desirous  to  measure  the  strength,  and  form  some  estimate 
of  the  character,  of  an  adversary  so  formidable  ;  and  each 
was  compelled  to  acknowledge  that,  had  he  fallen  in  the  con- 
flict, it  had  been  by  a  noble  hand. 

The  champions  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  each  other 
in  person  and  features,  and  might  have  formed  no  inaccurate 
representatives  of  their  difl'erent  nations.  The  Frank  seemed 
a  powerful  man,  built  after  the  ancient  Gothic  cast  of  form, 
with  light  brown  hair,  which,  on  the  removal  of  his  helmet, 
was  seen  to  curl  thick  and  j^rofusely  over  his  head.  His  fea- 
tures had  acquired,  from  the  hot  climate,  a  huge  much 
darker  than  those  jDarts  of  his  neck  which  were  less  fre- 
quently exposed  to  view,  or  than  was  warranted  by  his  full 
and  well-opened  blue  eye,  the  color  of  his  hair,  and  of  the 
mustachios  which  thickly  shaded  his  upper  lip,  while  his  chin 
was  carefully  divested  of  beard,  after  the  Xorman  fashion. 
His  nose  was  Grecian  and  well  formed  ;  his  mouth,  rather 
large  in  proportion,  but  filled  with  well-set,  strong,  and 
beautifully  white  teeth ;  his  head  small,  and  set  upon 
the  neck  with  much  grace.  His  age  could  not  exceed  thirty, 
but  if  the  effects  of  toil  and  climate  were  allowed  for,  might 
be  three  or  four  years  under  that  period.  His  form  was 
tall,  powerful,  and  athletic,  like  that  of  a  man  whose  strength 
might,  in  later  life,  become  unwieldy,  but  which  was  hitherto 
united  with  lightness  and  activity.  His  hands,  when  he 
withdrew  the  mailed  gloves,  were  long,  fair  and  well-propor- 
tioned ;  the  wrist-bones  peculiarly  large  and  strong,  and  the 
arms    remarkably   well-shaped  and    brawny.      A  military 


TBE  TALISMAN  IS 

hardihood,  and  careless  frankness  of  expression,  characterized 
his  hwij^uajj^e  and  liis  motions;  anil  his  voice  had  the  tone  of  one 
more  iiecustomed  to  command  than  to  obey,  and  who  was  in 
the  liabit  of  expressing  his  sentiments  aloud  and  boldly, 
whenever  he  was  called  upon  to  announce  them. 

The  Saracen  Emir  formed  a  marked  and  striking  contrast 
with  the  Western  Crusader.  His  stature  was  indeed  above 
the  middle  size,  but  he  was  at  least  three  inches  shorter  than 
the  European,  whose  size  approached  the  gigantic.  His 
slender  limbs,  and  long  spare  hands  and  arms,  though  well 
proportioned  to  his  person,  and  suited  to  the  style  of  his 
countenance,  did  not  at  first  aspect  promise  the  display  of 
vigor  and  elasticity  which  the  Emir  had  lately  exhibited. 
But,  on  looking  more  closely,  his  limbs,  where  exposed  to 
view,  seemed  divested  of  all  that  was  fleshy  or  cumbersome  ; 
so  that  nothing  being  left  but  bone,  braAvn,  and  sinew,  it 
w^as  a  frame  fitted  for  exertion  and  fatigue,  far  beyond  that 
of  a  bulky  champion,  whose  strength  and  size  are  counter- 
balanced by  weight,  and  who  is  exhausted  by  his  own  exer- 
:ions.  The  countenance  of  the  Saracen  naturally  bore  a 
general  national  resemblance  to  the  Eastern  tribe  from  whom 
he  descended,  and  was  as  unlike  as  possible  to  the  exagger- 
ated terms  in  which  tlie  minstrels  of  the  day  were  wont  to 
represent  the  infidel  champions,  and  the  fabulous  description 
which  a  sister  art  still  presents  as  the  Saracen's  Head  upon 
sign-posts.  His  features  were  small,  well  formed  and  del- 
icate, though  deeply  embrowaied  by  the  Eastern  sun,  and 
terminated  by  a  flowing  and  curled  black  beard,  which 
seemed  trimmed  wath  peculiar  care.  The  nose  w^as  straight 
and  regular,  the  eyes  keen,  deep-set,  black,  and  glowing,  and 
his  teeth  equaled  in  beauty  the  ivory  of  his  deserts.  The 
person  and  proportions  of  the  Saracen,  in  short,  stretched 
on  the  turf  near  to  his  powerful  antagonist,  might  have  been 
compared  to  his  sheeny  and  crescent-formed  saber,  with  its 
narrow  and  light,  but  bright  and  keen,  Damascus  blade, 
contrasted  with  the  long  and  ponderous  Gothic  war-sword 
which  was  flung  unbuckled  on  the  same  sod.  The  Emir  w^as 
in  the  very  flower  of  his  age,  and  might  perhaps  have  been 
termed  eminently  beautiful,  but  for  the  narrowness  of  his 
forehead,  and  something  of  too  much  thinness  and  sharp- 

ss  of  feature,  or  at  least  what  might  have  seemed  sucli  in 
a  European  estimate  of  beauty. 

The  manners  of  the  Eastern  warrior  were  grave,  graceful, 
and  decorous  ;  indicating,  however,  in  some  particulars,  the 
habitual  restraint  which  men  of  warm  and  choleric  tempei-s 


14  WA  VEELEY  NO  VEL S 

often  set  as  a  guard,  upon  their  native  impetuosity  of  dispo- 
sition, and  at  the  same  time  a  sense  of  his  own  dignity,  which 
seemed  to  impose  a  certain  formality  of  behavior  in  him  who 
entertained  it. 

This  haughty  feeling  of  superiority  was  perhaps  equally 
entertained  by  his  new  European  acquaintance,  but  the 
"effect  was  different ;  and  the  same  feeling  which  dictated  to 
the  Christian  knight  a  bold,  blunt,  and  somewhat  careless 
bearing,  as  one  too  conscious  of  his  own  importance  to  be 
anxious  about  the  opinions  of  others,  appeared  to  prescribe 
to  the  Saracen  a  style  of  courtesy  more  studiously  and  for- 
mally observant  of  ceremony.  Both  were  courteous  ;  but  the 
courtesy  of  the  Christian  seemed  to  flow  rather  from  a  good- 
humored  sense  of  what  was  due  to  others ;  that  of  the 
Moslem  from  a  high  feeling  of  what  was  to  be  expected  from 
himself. 

The  provision  which  each  had  made  for  his  refreshment 
was  simple,  but  the  meal  of  the  Saracen  was  abstemious.  A 
handful  of  dates,  and  a  morsel  of  coarse  barley-bread,  sufficed 
to  relieve  the  hunger  of  the  latter,  whose  education  had 
habituated  him  to  the  fare  of  the  desert,  although,  since 
their  Syrian  conquests,  the  Arabian  simplicity  of  life  fre- 
quently gave  place  to  the  most  unbounded  profusion  of 
luxury.  A  few  draughts  from  the  lovely  fountain  by  which 
they  reposed  completed  his  meal.  That  of  the  Christian, 
though  coarse,  was  more  genial.  Dried  hog's-flesh,  the 
abomination  of  the  Moslemah,  was  the  chief  part  of  his  repast ; 
and  his  drink,  derived  from  a  leathern  bottle,  contained 
something  better  than  pure  element.  He  fed  with  more  dis- 
play of  appetite,  and  drank  with  more  appearance  of  satis- 
faction, than  the  Saracen  judged  it  oecoming  to  show  in 
the  performance  of  a  mere  bodily  function  ;  and,  doubtless, 
the  secret  contempt  which  each  entertained  for  the  other,  as 
the  follower  of  a  false  religion,  was  considerably  increased  by 
the  marked  difference  of  their  diet  and  manners.  But  each 
had  found  the  weight  of  his  opponent's  arm,  and  the  mutual 
respect  which  the  bold  struggle  had  created  was  sufficient 
to  subdue  other  and  inferior  considerations.  Yet  the  Saracen 
could  not  help  remarking  the  circumstances  which  displeased 
him  in  the  Christian's  conduct  and  manners  ;  and,  after  he 
had  witnessed  for  some  time  in  silence  the  keen  appetite 
which  protracted  the  knight's  banquet  long  after  his  own 
was  concluded,  he  thus  addressed  him  : 

"  Valiant  Nazarene,  is  it  fitting  that  one  who  can  fight 
like  a  man  should  feed  like  a  dog  or  a  wolf  ?    Even  a  misb«- 


THE  TALISMAN  15 

lieving  Jew  would  shudder  ;it  the  food  which  you  seem  to  eat 
with  as  much  relish  as  if  it  were  fruit  from  the  trees  of  Para- 
dise." 

"  Valiant  Saracen/'  answered  the  Christian,  looking  up 
with  some  surprise  at  the  accusation  thus  unexpectedly 
brought,  "  know  thou  that  I  exercise  my  Christian  freedom, 
in  using  that  which  is  forbidden  to  the  Jews,  being,  as  they 
esteem  themselves,  under  the  bondage  of  tlie  old  law  of 
Moses.  We,  Saracens,  be  it  known  to  thee,  have  a  better  Avar- 
rant  for  what  we  do.  Ave  Maria  !  be  we  thankful."  And, 
as  if  in  defiance  of  his  companion's  scruples,  he  concluded  a 
short  Latin  grace  with  a  long  draught  from  the  leathern 
bottle. 

"That,  too,  you  call  a  part  of  your  liberty,"  said  the  Sar- 
acen ;  "  and  as  yon  feed  like  the  brutes,  so  you  degrade 
yourself  to  the  bestial  condition  by  drinking  a  poisonous 
liquor  which  even  they  refuse." 

"  Know,  foolish  Saracen,"  replied  the  Christian,  without 
hesitation,  "  that  thou  blasphemest  the  gifts  of  God,  even 
with  the  blasphemy  of  thy  father  Ishmael.  The  juice  of  the 
grape  is  given  to  him  that  will  use  it  wisely,  as  that  which 
cheers  the  heart  of  man  after  toil,  refreshes  him  in  sickness, 
and  comforts  him  in  sorrow.  He  who  so  enjoyeth  it  may 
thank  God  for  his  Avine-cup  as  for  his  daily  bread  ;  and  he 
who  abuseth  the  gift  of  Heaven  is  not  a  greater  fool  in  his 
intoxication  than  thou  in  thine  abstinence." 

The  keen  eye  of  the  Saracen  kindled  at  this  sarcasm,  and 
his  hand  sought  the  hilt  of  his  poniard.  It  Avas  but  a  mo- 
mentary thought,  however,  and  died  away  in  the  recollection 
of  the  powerful  champion  with  Avhom  he  had  to  deal,  and 
the  desperate  grapple,  the  impression  of  Avhich  still  throbbed 
in  his  limbs  and  veins  ;  and  he  contented  himself  with  pur- 
suing the  contest  in  colloquy,  as  more  convenient  for  the  time. 

"  Thy  Avords,"  he  said,  "  0  Nazarene,  might  create  anger, 
did  not  thy  ignorance  raise  compassion.  Seest  thou  not,  O 
thou  more  blind  than  any  Avho  asks  alms  at  the  door  of  the 
mosque,  that  the  liberty  thou  dost  boast  of  is  restrained 
even  in  that  Avhich  is  dearest  to  man's  happiness  and  to  his 
household  ;  and  that  thy  law,  if  thou  dost  practise  it,  binds 
thee  in  marriage  to  one  single  mate,  be  she  sick  or  healthy, 
be  she  fruitful  or  barren,  bring  she  comfort  and  joy  or  cla- 
mor and  strife,  to  thy  table  and  to  thy  bed  ?  Tliis,  Naz- 
arene,  I  do  indeed  call  slavery  ;  Avhereas,  to  the  faithful  hath 
the  Prophet  assigned  upon  earth  the  patriarchal  privileges 
of  Abraham  our  father  and  of  Solomon,  the  Avisest  of  man- 


16  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

kind,  having  given  us  here  a  succession  of  beauty  at  our 
pleasure,  and  beyond  the  grave  the  black-eyed  houris  of 
Paradise." 

'•'  Now,  by  His  name  that  I  most  reverence  in  Heaven," 
said  the  Christian,  "  and  by  hers  whom  I  most  worship  on 
earth,  thou  art  but  a  blinded  and  a  bewildered  infidel.  That 
diamond  signet  which  thou  wearest  on  thy  finger,  thou  bold- 
est it,  doubtless,  as  of  inestimable  value  ?" 

"  Balsora  and  Bagdad  cannot  show  the  like,'*  replied  the 
Saracen  ;  '•  but  what  avails  it  to  our  purpose  ?  " 

"  Much,"  replied  the  Frank,  "  as  thou  shalt  thyself  con- 
fess. Take  my  war-ax  and  dash  the  stone  into  twenty 
shivers  ;  would  each  fragment  be  as  valuable  as  the  original 
gem,  or  would  they,  all  collected,  bear  the  tenth  jjart  of  its 
estimation  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  child's  question,"  answered  the  Saracen  ;  "  the 
fragments  of  such  a  stone  would  not  equal  the  entire  jewel 
in  the  degree  of  hundreds  to  one." 

'•  Saracen,"  replied  the  Christian  warrior,  "  the  love  which 
a  true  knight  binds  on  one  only,  fair  and  faithful,  is  the  gem 
entire  ;  the  affection  thou  flingest  among  thy  enslaved  wives 
and  half-wedded  slaves  is  worthless,  comparatively,  as  the 
sparkling  shivers  of  the  broken  diamond." 

''Now,  by  the  Holy  Caaba,"  said  the  Emir,  "thou  art  a 
madman,  who  hugs  his  chain  of  iron  as  if  it  were  of  gold  ! 
Look  more  closely.  This  ring  of  mine  would  lose  half  its 
beauty  were  not  the  signet  encircled  and  enchased  w^ith  these 
lesser  brilliants,  which  grace  it  and  set  it  off.  The  central 
diamond  is  man,  firm  and  entire,  his  value  depending  on 
himself  alone  ;  and  this  circle  of  lesser  jewels  are  women, 
borrowing  his  luster,  which  he  deals  out  to  them  as  best 
suits  his  pleasure  or  his  convenience.  Take  the  central  stone 
from  the  signet,  and  the  diamond  itself  remains  as  valuable 
as  ever,  while  the  lesser  gems  are  comparatively  of  little  value. 
And  this  is  the  true  reading  of  thy  parable  ;  for  what  sayeth 
the  poet  Mausour :  "  It  is  the  favor  of  man  which  giveth 
beauty  and  comeliness  to  woman,  as  the  stream  glitters  no 
longer  when  the  sun  ceaseth  to  shine." 

"  Saracen,"  replied  the  Crusader,  "  thou  speakest  like  one 
who  never  saw  a  woman  worthy  the  affection  of  a  soldier. 
Believe  me,  couldst  thou  look  upon  those  of  Europe,  to 
whom,  after  Heaven,  w^e  of  the  order  of  knighthood  vow 
fealty  and  devotion,  thou  wouldst  loathe  forever  the  poor 
sensual  slaves  who  form  thy  harem.  The  beauty  of  our  fair 
pnes  gives  point  to  our  spears  and  edge  to  our  swords  ;  their 


I  THE  TALISMAN  17 

■  words  are  onr  law  ;  and  as  soon  will  a  lamp  shed  luster  when 
unkindled,  as  a  knight  distinguish  liimself  by  feats  of  arms, 
having  no  mistress  of  his  affection." 

"1  have  heard  ot  this  frenzy  among  tlie  warriors  of  the 
West/''  said  the  Emir,  '"and  iuive  ever  accounted  it  one  of 
the.  accompanying  symptoms  of  tliat  insanity  which  brings 
you  hither  to  obtain  possession  of  an  empty  sepulcher.  But 
yet,  methinks,  so  highly  have  the  Franks  whom  I  have  met 
with  extolled  the  beauty  of  their  women,  I  could  be  well 
contented  to  behold  with  mine  own  eyes  those  charms  which 
can  transform  such  brave  warriors  into  the  tools  of  their 
pleasure." 

"  Brave  Saracen/'  said  the  Knight,  '*\i  I  were  not  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Sepulcher,  it  should  be  my  pride  to 
conduct  you,  on  assurance  of  safety,  to  the  camp  of  Richard 
of  England,  than  whom  none  knows  better  how  to  do  honor 
to  a  noble  foe  ;  and  though  I  be  poor  and  unattended,  yet 
have  I  interest  to  secure  for  thee,  or  any  such  as  thou 
seemest,  not  safety  only,  but  respect  and  esteem.  There 
shouldst  thou  see  several  of  the  fairest  beauties  of  France 
and  Britain  form  a  small  circle,  the  brilliancy  of  which 
exceeds  ten-thousandfold  the  luster  of  mines  of  diamonds 
such  as  thine." 

"  ]S[ow,by  the  corner-stone  of  the  Caaba  ! "  said  the  Saracen, 
"  I  will  accept  thy  invitation  as  freely  as  it  is  given,  if  thou 
wilt  postpone  thy  present  intent  ;  and,  credit  me,  brave 
Nazarene,  it  were  better  for  thyself  to  turn  back  thy  horse's 
head  towards  the  camp  of  thy  people,  for  to  travel  towards 
Jerusalem  without  a  passport  is  but  a  wilful  casting  away  of 
thy  life." 

"  I  have  a  pass,"  answered  the  Knight,  producing  a 
parchment,  "under  Saladin's  hand  and  signet." 

The  Saracen  bent  liis  head  to  the  dust  as  he  recognized 
the  seal  and  handwriting  of  the  renowned  soldan  of  Egypt 
and  Syria ;  and  having  kissed  the  paper  with  profound 
respect,  he  pressed  it  to  his  forehead,  then  returned  it  to 
the_  Christian,  saying,  "Eash  Frank,  thou  hast  sinned 
against  thine  own  blood  and  mine,  for  not  showing  this  to 
me  when  we  met." 

"  You  came  with  leveled  spear,"  said  the  Knight ;  "  had 
a  troop  of  Saracens  so  assailed  me,  it  might  liave  stood  witli 
my  honor  to  have  shown  the  soldan's  j^ass,  but  never  to  one 
man/* 

"  And  yet  one  man,"  said  the  Saracen,  haughtily,  "  was 
enough  to  interrupt  your  journey/' 
3 


18  WA VER LEY  NOVELS. 

"  True,  brave  Moslem,"  replied  the  Christian  ;  ''  but  there 
are  few  such  as  thou  art.  Such  falcons  fly  not  in  flocks,  or, 
if  they  do,  they  pounce  not  in  numbers  upon  one." 

''Thou  dost  us  but  justice,"  said  the  Saracen,  evidently 
gratified  by  the  comjiliment,  as  he  had  been  touched  by  the 
implied  scorn  of  the  European's  previous  boast  ;  "  from  us 
thou  shouldst  have  had  no  wrong  ;  but  well  was  it  for  me 
that  I  failed  to  slay  thee,  with  the  safeguard  of  the  king  of 
kings  upon  thy  person.  Certain  it  were,  that  the  cord  or 
the  saber  had  justly  avenged  such  guilt." 

"1  am  glad  to  hear  that  its  influence  shall  be  availing  to 
me,"  said  the  Knight,  "  for  I  have  heard  that  the  road  is 
infested  with  robber  tribes,  Avho  regard  nothing  in  comparison 
of  an  opportunity  of  plunder." 

"  The  truth  has  been  told  to  thee,  brave  Christian,"  said 
the  Saracen  ;  "  but  I  swear  to  thee,  by  the  turban  of  the 
Prophet,  that  shouldst  thou  miscarry  in  any  haunt  of  such 
villains,  I  will  myself  undertake  thy  revenge  with  five  thou- 
sand horse  :  I  will  slay  every  male  of  them,  and  send  their 
women  into  such  distant  captivity  that  the  name  of  their 
tribe  shall  never  again  be  heard  within  five  hundred  miles 
of  Damascus.  I  will  sow  with  salt  the  foundations  of  their 
village,  and  there  shall  never  live  thing  dwell  there,  even 
from  that  time  forward." 

"1  had  rather  the  trouble  which  you  design  for  yourself 
were  in  revenge  of  some  other  more  important  person  than 
of  me,  noble  Emir,"  replied  the  Knight ;  "  but  my  vow  is 
recorded  in  Heaven,  for  good  or  for  evil,  and  I  must  be  in- 
debted to  you  for  pointing  me  out  the  way  to  my  resting- 
place  for  this  evening." 

"That,"  said  the  Saracen,  "must  be  under  the  black 
covering  of  my  father's  tent." 

"  This  night,"  answered  the  Christian,  "  I  must  pass  in 
prayer  and  penitence  with  a  holy  man,  Theodorick  of 
Engaddi,  who  dwells  amongst  these  wilds,  and  spends  his 
life  in  the  service  of  God." 

"  I  will  at  least  see  you  safe  thither,"  said  the  Saracen. 

"That  would  be  pleasant  convoy  for  me,"  said  the  Chris- 
tian, "  yet  might  endanger  the  future  security  of  the  good 
father  ;  for  the  cruel  hand  of  your  people  has  been  red  with 
the  blood  of  the  servants  of  the  Lord,  and  therefore  do  we 
come  hither  in  plate  and  mail,  with  sword  and  lance,  to  open 
the  road  to  the  Holy  Sepulcher,  and  protect  the  chosen  saints 
and  anchorites  who  yet  dwell  in  this  land  of  promise  and  of 
miracle." 


THE  TALISMAN  19 

'* Nazarene/*  said  the  Moslem,  "in  this  the  Greeks  and 
Syrians  liave  much  belied  us,  seeing  we  do  but  after  the 
word  of  Abubeker  Ahvakel,  the  successor  of  the  Prophet, 
and,  after  liim,  the  first  commander  of  true  believers.  '  Go 
forth/  he  said,  '  Yezed  ben  Sophian,'  when  he  sent  that  re- 
nowned general  to  take  Syria  from  the  infidels,  '  quit  your- 
selves like  men  in  battle,  but  slay  neither  the  aged,  the  infirm, 
the  women,  nor  the  children.  Waste  not  the  land,  neither 
destroy  corn  and  fruit-trees,  they  are  the  gifts  of  Allah. 
Keep  faith  when  you  have  made  any  covenant,  even  if  it  be 
to  vour  own  harm.  If  ye  find  holy  men  laboring  with  their 
hands,  and  serving  God  in  the  desert,  hurt  them  not,  neither 
destroy  their  dwellings.  But  when  you  find  them  with  sha- 
ven crowns,  they  are  of  the  synagogue  of  Satan — smite  with 
the  saber,  slay,  cease  not  till  they  become  believers  or  tribu- 
taries." As  the  Caliph,  companion  of  the  Propiiec,  Jiacn 
told  us,  so  have  we  done,  and  those  whom  our  justice  has 
smitten  are  but  the  priests  of  Satan.  But  unto  the  good 
men  who,  without  stirring  up  nation  against  nation,  worship 
sincerely  in  the  faith  of  Issa  ben  Mariam,  we  are  a  shadow  ; 
and  a  shield  ;  and  such  being  he  whom  you  seek,  even  though 
the  light  of  the  Prophet  hath  not  reached  him,  from  me  he 
will  only  have  love,  favor,  and  regard." 

"  The  anchorite  whom  I  would  now  visit,"  said  the  war- 
like pilgrim,  '*is,  I  have  heard,  no  priest ;  but  were  he  of 
that  arointed  and  sacred  order,  I  would  prove  with  my  good 

lance,  against  paynim  and  infidel " 

"  Let  us  not  defy  each  other,  brother,"  interrupted  the 
Saracen  ;  "  we  shall  find,  either  of  us,  enough  of  Franks  or 
of  Moslemah  on  -whom  to  exercise  both  sword  and  lance. 
This  Theodorick  is  protected  both  by  Turk  and  Arab  ;  and, 
though  one  of  strange  conditions  at  intervals,  yet,  on  the 
I  whole,  he  bears  himself  so  well  as  the  follower  of  his  own 
prophet,   that   he   merits   the  protection   of  him  who  was 

sent " 

••  Xow,  by  Our  Lady,  Saracen,"  exclaimed  the  Christian, 
''  if  thou  darest  name  in  the  same  breath  the  camel-driver  of 

Mecca  with " 

An  electrical  shock  of  passion  thrilled  through  the  form 
of  tlie  Emir  ;  but  it  was  only  momentary,  and  the  calmness 
.of  his  reply  had  both  dignity  and  reason  in  it,  when  he  said, 
P"  Slander  not  him  whom  thou  knowest  not,  the  rather  that 
we  venerate  the  founder  of  thy  religion,  while  we  condemn 
•  the  doctrine  which  your  priests  have  spun  from  it.  I  will 
;  myself  guide  thee  to  the  cavern  of  the  hermit,  which,  me- 


20  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

thinks,  without  my  help,  thou  "wouldst  find  it  a  hard  matter 
to  reach.  And,  on  the  way,  let  us  leave  to  mollalis  and  to 
monks  to  dispute  about  the  divinity  of  our  faith,  and  spe;  " 
on  themes  which  belong  to  youthful  warriors — upon  battles, 
upon  beautiful  women,  upon  sharp  swords,  and  upon  bright 
grmor/* 


III 
ii 


^o: 


CHAPTER  III 

The  warriors  arose  from  their  place  of  brief  rest  and 
simple  refreshment,  and  courteously  aided  each  other  while 
they  carefully  replaced  and  adjusted  theliarness  from  wliich 
they  had  relieved  for  the  time  their  trusty  steeds.  Each 
seemed  familiar  with  an  employment  which  at  tluit  time 
was  a  part  of  necessary,  and,  indeed,  of  indispensable,  duty. 
Each  also  seemed  to  possess,  as  far  as  the  difference  be- 
twixt the  animal  and  rational  species  admitted,  the  confi- 
dence and  affection  of  the  horse  which  was  the  constant  com- 
panion of  his  travels  and  his  warfare.  With  the  Saracen, 
this  familiar  intimacy  was  a  part  of  his  early  habits  ;  for,  in 
the  tents  of  the  Eastern  military  tribes,  the  horse  of  the 
soldier  ranks  next  to,  and  almost  equal  in  importance  with, 
his  wife  and  his  family  ;  and,  with  the  European  warrior, 
circumstances,  and  indeed  necessity,  rendered  liis  war-horse 
scarcely  less  than  his  brother-in-arms.  The  steeds,  there- 
fore, suffered  themselves  quietly  to  be  taken  from  their  food 
and  liberty,  and  neighed  and  snuffled  fondly  around  their 
masters,  while  they  were  adjusting  their  accouterments  for 
farther  travel  and  additional  toil.  And  each  warrior,  as  he 
prosecuted  his  own  task,  or  assisted  with  courtesy  his  com- 
panion, looked  with  observant  curiosity  at  the  equipments 
of  his  fellow-traveler,  and  noted  particularly  what  struck 
him  as  peculiar  in  the  fashion  in  which  he  arranged  his 
riding  accouterments. 

Ere  they  remounted  to  resume  their  journey,  the  Christian 
knight  again  moistened  his  lips  and  dipt  his  hands  in  the 
living  fountain,  and  said  to  his  pagan  associate  of  the 
journey,  "I  would  I  knew  the  name  of  this  delicious 
fountain,  that  I  might  hold  it  in  my  grateful  remembrance  ; 
for  never  did  water  slake  more  deliciously  a  more  oppressive 
thirst  than  I  liave  tliis  day  experienced."' 

'  It  is  called  in  the  Arabic  language,"  answered  the  Sar- 
acen, "  by  a  name  which  signifies  the  Diamond  of  the 
Desert." 

"  And  well  is  it  so  named,"  replied  the  Cliristian.  ''  My 
Inative  valley  hath  a  thousand  springs,  but  not  to  one  of 
ithem  shall  I  attach  hereafter  such  precious  recollection  aa 
21 


22  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  this  solitary  fount,  which  bestows  its  liquid  treasures 
where  they  are  not  only  delightful,  but  nearly  indispen- 
sable." 

*'You  say  truth,"  said  the  Saracen  ;  "for  the  curse  is 
still  on  yonder  sea  of  death,  and  neither  man  nor  beast 
drink  of  its  waves,  nor  of  the  river  which  feeds  without  fill- 
ing it,  until  this  inhospitable  desert  be  passed." 

They  mounted,  and  pursued  their  journey  across  the  sandy 
waste.  The  ardor  of  noon  was  now  past,  and  a  light  breeze 
somewhat  alleviated  the  terrors  of  the  desert,  though  not 
without  bearing  on  its  wings  an  impalpable  dust,  which  the 
Saracen  little  hoeded,  though  his  heavily-armed  companion 
felt  it  as  such  an  annoyance,  that  he  hung  his  iron  casque 
at  his  saddlebow,  and  substituted  the  light  riding-cap, 
termed  m  the  language  of  the  time  a  mortier,  from  its  re- 
semblance in  shape  to  an  ordinary  mortar.  They  rode  to- 
gether for  some  time  in  silence,  the  Saracen  performing  the 
part  of  director  and  guide  of  the  journey,  which  he  did  by 
observing  minute  marks  and  bearings  of  the  distant  rocks, 
to  a  ridge  of  which  they  Avere  gradually  approaching.  For 
a  little  time  he  seemed  absorbed  in  the  task,  as  a  pilot  when 
navigating  a  vessel  through  a  difficult  channel ;  but  they 
had  not  proceeded  half  a  league  when  he  seemed  secure  of 
his  route,  and  disposed,  with  more  frankness  than  was  usual 
to  his  nation,  to  enter  into  conversation. 

''You  have  asked  the  name,"  he  said,  ''of  a  mute 
fountain,  which  hath  the  semblance,  but  not  the  reality,  of 
a  living  tiling.  Let  me  be  pardoned  to  ask  the  name  of  the 
companion  with  whom  I  have  this  day  encountered,  both  in 
danger  and  in  repose,  and  which  I  cannot  fancy  unknown, 
even  here  among  the  deserts  of  Palestine  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  yet  worth  publishing,"_  said  the  Christian. 
"  Know,  however,  that  among  the  soldiers  of  the  Cross  I  am 
called  Kenneth— Kenneth  of  the  Couching  Leopard  ;  at 
home  I  have  other  titles,  but  they  would  sound  harsh  in  anJ 
Eastern  ear.  Brave  Saracen,  let  me  ask  which  of  the  tribes!" 
of  Arabia  claims  your  descent,  and  by  what  name  you  are 
known." 

"  Sir  Kenneth,"  said  the  Moslem,  "  I  joy  that  your  name 
is  such  as  my  lips  can  easily  utter.  For  me,  I  am  no  Arab, 
yet  derive  my  descent  from  a  line  neither  less  wild  nor  less 
warlike.  Know,  Sir  Knight  of  the  Leopard,  that  I  am 
Sheerkohf,  the  Lion  of  the  Mountain,  and  that  Kurdistan, 
from  which  I  derive  my  descent,  holds  no  family  more  nobl« 
than  that  of  Seljook." 


THE  TALISMAN  23 

'- 1  have  heard,"  answered  the  Christian,  "  that  your  great 
loldan  chiims  his  blood  from  the  same  source  ?" 

"  Thanks  to  the  Prophet,  that  hath  so  far  honored  our 
mountains  as  to  send  from  their  bosom  him  whose  word  is 
victory."  answered  the  Paynim.  "I  am  but  as  a  worm  be- 
fore the  King  of  Egypt  and  Syria,  and  yet  in  my  own  land 
Bometliing  my  name  may  avail.  Stranger,  witli  liow  many 
men  didst  thou  come  on  this  warfare  ?" 

"  By  my  faitli,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  ''with  aid  of  friends 
and  kinsmen,  I  was  hardly  pinched  to  furnish  forth  ten  well- 
appointed  lances,  with  maybe  some  fifty  more  men,  archers 
and  varlets  included.  Some  have  deserted  my  unlucky  pen- 
non, some  liave  fallen  in  battle,  several  have  died  of  disease, 
and  one  trusty  armor-bearer,  for  whose  life  I  am  now  doing 
my  pilgrimage,  lies  on  the  bed  of  sickness." 

'•  Christian,"  said  Sheerkohf,  ''here  I  have  five  arrows  in 
my  quiver,  each  feathered  from  the  wing  of  an  eagle.  When 
1  send  one  of  them  to  my  tents,  a  thousand  warriors  mount 
on  horseback  ;  when  I  send  another,  an  equal  force  will 
arise  :  for  the  five,  I  can  command  five  thousand  men  ;  and 
if  I  send  my  bow,  ten  thousand  mounted  riders  will  shakr 
the  desert.  And  with  thy  fifty  followers  thou  hast  come  tj 
invade  a  land  in  which  I  am  one  of  the  meanest  ! " 

"■  Xow,  by  the  rood,  Saracen,"  retorted  the  Western  war- 
rior, "  thou  shouldst  know,  ere  thou  vauntest  thyself,  that 
one  steel  glove  can  crush  a  whole  handful  of  hornets." 

'•  Ay,  but  it  must  first  inclose  them  within  its  grasp,"  said 
the  Saracen,  with  a  smile  which  might  have  endangered 
their  new  alliance,  had  he  not  changed  the  subject  by  add 
ing,  "  And  is  bravery  so  much  esteemed  amongst  the  Chris 
tian  princes,  that  thou,  thus  void  of  means  and  of  men, 
canst  offer,  as  thou  didst  of  late,  to  be  my  ^n-otector  and 
security  in  the  camp  of  thy  brethren  ?" 

'•  Know,  Saracen,"  said  the  Christian,  "since  such  is  thy 
style,  that  the  name  of  a  knigi.  t,  and  the  blood  of  a  gentle- 
nan,  entitle  Ip'n  to  place  himself  on  the  same  rank  with 
iovi-reigns  eveu  of  the  first  degree,  in  so  far  as  regards  all 
Kit  regal  authoiity  and  dominion.  Were  Richard  of  Eng- 
land iiimself  to  wound  the  honor  of  a  knight  as  poor  as  I 
im,  he  could  not,  by  the  law  of  chivalry,  deny  him  thf 
iombat." 

'' Methinks  I  should  like  to  look  upon  so  strange  a 
cene,"  said  the  Emir,  "  in  which  a  leathern  belt  and  a  pair 
•f  spurs  put  the  poorest  on  a  level  with  the  most  power- 
uL" 


WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

**  You  must  add  free  blood  and  a  fearless  heart/'  said  the 
Christian  ;  "  then,  perhaps,  you  will  not  have  spoken  untruly 
of  the  dignity  of  knighthood/' 

"  And  mix  you  as  boldly  amongst  the  females  of  your 
chiefs  and  leaders  ?"  asked  the  Saracen, 

"■  God  forbid,"  said  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard,  "  that  the 
poorest  knight  in  Christendom  should  not  be  free,  in  all 
honorable  service,  to  devote  his  hand  and  sword,  the  fame  oi 
his  actions,  and  the  fixed  devotion  of  his  heart,  to  the  fairest 
princess  who  ever  wore  coronet  on  her  brow  ! " 

"^  But  a  little  while  since,"  said  the  Saracen,  "and  yon 
described  love  as  the  highest  treasure  of  tlie  heart — thine 
hath  undoubtedly  been  high  and  nobly  bestowed  ?" 

''Stranger,"  answered  the  Christian,  blushing  deeply  as 
he  spoke,  "we  tell  not  rashly  where  it  is  we  have  bestowed 
our  choicest  treasures  ;  it  is  enongli  for  thee  to  know  that. 
as  thou  sayest,  my  love  is  highly  and  nobly  bestowed — mos1 
higlily,  most  nobly  ;  but  if  thou  wouldst  hear  of  love  and 
broken  lances,  venture  thyself,  as  thou  sayest,  to  the  camj^: 
of  tiie  Crusaders,  and  thou  wilt  find  exercise  for  thine  ears, 
and,  if  thou  wilt,  for  thy  hands  too/' 

The  Eastern  warrior,  raising  himself  in  his  stirrups  and 
shaking  aloft  his  lance,  replied,  "Hardly,  I  fear,  shall  ] 
find  one  with  a  crossed  shoulder  who  will  exchange  with  nu 
the  cast  of  the  jerrid/' 

"  I  will  not  promise  for  that,"  replied  the  Knight,  "  thougl 
there  be  in  the  camp  certain  Spaniards,  who  have  right  goo( 
skill  in  your  Eastern  game  of  hurling  the  javelin/' 

"  Dogs  and  sons  of  dogs  !"  ejacuiated  the  Saracen  ;  "  wlia 
have  these  Spaniards  to  do  to  come  hither  to  combat  tin 
true  believers,  who,  in  their  own  land,  are  their  lords  am 
task-masters  ?  AVith  them  I  would  mix  in  no  warlike  pas 
time/' 

"■  Let  not  the  knights  of  Leon  or  Asturias  hear  you  speal 
thus  of  them,"  said  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard  ;  "  but,' 
added  he,  smiling  at  the  recollection  of  the  morning's  com' 
bat,  *'  if,  instead  of  a  reed,  you  were  inclined  to  stand  th 
cast  of  a  battle-ax,  there  are  enough  of  Western  warrior 
who  would  gratify  your  longing." 

"  By  the  beard  of  my  father,  sir,"  said  the  Saracen,  wit: 
an  approach  to  laughter,  "  the  game  is  too  rough  for  mer 
sport  ;  I  will  never  shun  them  in  battle,  but  my  head  (press- 
ing his  hand  to  his  brow),  will  not,  for  a  while,  permit  me  t 
seek  them  in  sport." 

*'  I  would  you  saw  the  ax   of  King  Eichard/'  answered 


p 


THE  TALISMAN 


the  Western  warrier,  "to  which  that  wliich  hangs  at  my 
Baddle-bow  weighs  but  as  a  feather." 

**  We  hear  nuu'li  of  that  island  sovereign/'  said  the  Sara- 
cen, "  art  thou  one  of  his  subjects  ?" 

"  One  of  his  followers  I  am,  for  this  expedition,"  answer- 
ed the  Knight,  "and  honored  in  the  service  :  but  not  born 
his  subject,  although  a  native  of  the  island  in  which  he 
reiugs." 

"How  mean  you  ?"  said  the  eastern  soldier  ;  "have  you 
then  two  kings  in  one  poor  island  ?  " 

"'  As  thou  sayost,"  said  the  Scot,  for  such  was  Sir  Kenneth 
by  birth — "  it  is  even  so  ;  and  yet,  although  the  inhabitants 
of  the  two  extremities  of  that  island  are  engaged  in  frequent 
war,  the  country  can,  as  thou  seest,  furnish  forth  such  a 
body  of  men-at-arms  as  may  go  far  to  shake  the  unholy  hold 
which  your  master  hath  laid  on  the  cities  of  Zion. 

"'  By  the  beard  of  Saladin,  Nazarene,  but  that  it  is  a 
thoughtless  and  boyish  folly,  I  could  laugh  at  the  simj^licity 
of  your  great  sultan,  who  comes  hither  to  make  conquests 
of  deserts  and  rocks,  and  dispute  the  possession  of  them  with 
those  who  have  tenfold  numbers  at  command,  while  he  leaves 
a  });irt  of  his  narrow  islet,  in  which  he  was  born  a  sovereign, 
to  the  dominion  of  another  scepter  than  his.  Surely,  Sir 
Kenneth,  you  and  the  other  good  men  of  your  country 
sliould  have  submitted  yourselves  to  the  dominion  of  this 
King  Richard,  ere  you  left  your  native  land,  divided  against 
itself,  to  set  forth  on  this  expedition  ?  " 

Hasty   and   fierce  was  Kenneth's  answer.     "No,  by  the 

bright  light  of  Heaven  !     If  the  King  of  England   had  not 

5et"forth  to  the  Crusade  till  he  was   sovereign  of  Scotland, 

!  the  crescent  might,  for  me,  and  all  true-hearted  Scots,  glim- 

iier  forever  on  the  walls  of  Zion." 

Thus  far  he  had  proceeded,  when,  suddenly  recollecting 
limself,  he  muttered,  " Mea  culpa — mea  culpa!  what  have 
[,  a  soldier  of  the  Cross,  to  do  with  recollection  of  war  be- 
;\vixt  Christian  nations  ?" 

The  rapid  expression  of  feeling  corrected  by  the  dictates 
)f  duty  did  not  escape  the  Moslem,  who,  if  he  did  not  en- 
irrly  understand  all  which  it  conveyed,  saw  enough  to  con- 
inre  him  with  the  assurance  that  Christians,  as  well  as 
\Ioslemah,  had  private  feelings  of  persojial  pique  and  na- 
ional  quarrel  which  were  not  entirely  reconcilable.  But  the 
kracens  were  a  race  polished,  perhaps,  to  the  utmost  extent 
vdiich  their  religion  permitted,  and  particularly  capable  of 
intertaining  high  ideas  of  courtesy  and  politeness  ;  and  such 


26  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

sentiments  prevented  his  taking  any  notice  of  the  incon- 
sistency of  Sir  Kenneth's  feelings,  in  the  opposite  charac- 
ters of  a  Scot  and  Crusader. 

Meanwhile,  as  they  advanced,  the  scene  began  to  change 
around  them.  They  were  now  turning  to  the  eastward,  and 
had  reached  the  range  of  steep  and  barren  hills  which  binds 
in  that  quarter  the  naked  plain,  and  varies  the  surface  ol 
the  country,  without  changing  its  sterile  character.  Sharp 
rocky  eminences  began  to  arise  around  them,  and,  in  a  short 
time,  deep  declivities,  and  ascents,  both  formidable  in 
height  and  difhcult  from  the  narrowness  of  the  path,  offered 
to  the  travelers  obstacles  of  a  different  kind  from  those  with 
which  they  had  recently  contended.  Dark  caverns  and 
chasms  amongst  the  rocks,  those  grottoes  so  often  alluded 
to  in  Scripture,  yawned  fearfully  on  either  side  as  they  pro- 
ceeded, and  the  Scottish  knight  was  informed  by  the  Emir 
that  these  were  often  the  refuge  of  beasts  of  prey,  or  of  nu'n 
still  more  ferocious,  who,  driven  to  desperation  by  the  con- 
stant war,  and  the  oppression  exercised  by  the  soldiery,  as 
well  of  the  Cross  as  of  the  Crescent,  had  become  robbers, 
and  spared  neither  rank  nor  religion,  neither  sex  nor  age, 
in  their  depredations. 

The  Scottish  kn  ight  listened  with  indifference  to  the  ac- 
counts of  ravages  committed  by  wild  beasts  or  wicked  men. 
secure  as  he  felt  himself  in  his  own  valor  and  personal 
strength  ;  but  he  was  struck  with  mysterious  dread  when  he 
recollected  that  he  was  now  in  the  awful  w^ilderness  of  the 
forty  days'  fast,  and  the  scene  of  the  actual  personal  temp- 
tation, wherewith  the  Evil  Principle  was  permitted  to  as- 
sail the  Son  of  Man.  He  withdrew  his  attention  gradually 
from  the  light  and  worldly  conversation  of  the  infidel  war- 
rior beside  him,  and,  however,  acceptable  his  gay  and 
gallant  bravery  would  have  rendered  him  as  a  companion 
elsewhere.  Sir  Kenneth  f  :lt  as  if,  in  those  wildernesses — the 
waste  and  dry  places,  in  which  the  foul  spirits  were  wont  to 
wander  when  expelled  the  mortals  whose  forms  they  pos- 
sessed— a  bare-footed  friar  w^ould  have  been  a  better  asso- 
ciate than  the  gay  but  unbelieving  paynim. 

These  feelings  embarrassed  him  the  rather  that  the  Sara- 
cen's spirits  appeared  to  rise  with  the  journey,  and  be- 
cause tlie  farther  he  penetrated  into  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the 
mountains,  the  lighter  became  his  conversation,  and  when 
he  found  that  unanswered,  the  louder  grew  his  song.  Sir 
Kenneth  knew  enough  of  the  Eastern  languages  to  be  as- 
sured that  he  chanted  sonnets  of  lore,   containing  all  the 


THE  TALISMAN  27 

glowing  praises  of  beauty  in  wliicli  tlie  Oriental  poets  are  so 
fond  of  luxuriating,  and  which,  therefore,  were  peculiarly 
unfitted  for  a  serious  or  devotional  strain  of  thouglit,  the 
feeling  best  becoming  the  Wilderness  of  the  I'einptation. 
With  inconsistency  enough,  the  Saracen  also  sung  lays  in 
])raise  of  wine,  the  liquid  ruby  of  the  Persian  poets,  and  his 
gaiety  at  length  became  so  unsuitable  to  the  Christian 
knight's  contrary  train  of  sentiments,  as,  but  for  the  promise 
of  amity  which  they  had  exchanged,  would  most  likely  have 
made  Sir  Kenneth  take  measures  to  change  his  note.  As 
it  was.  the  Crusader  felt  as  if  he  had  by  his  side  some  gay 
licentious  fiend, who  endeavored  to  ensnare  his  soul,  and  en- 
danger his  immortal  salvation,  by  inspiring  loose  thoughts 
of  oartiily  pleasures,  and  thus  polluting  his  devotion,  at  a 
time  when  his  faith  as  a  Christian  and  his  vow  as  a  pilgrim 
called  on  him  for  a  serious  and  penitential  state  of  mind. 
He  was  thus  greatly  perplexed,  and  undecided  how  to  act ; 
and  it  was  in  a  tone  of  hasty  displeasure  that,  at  length 
breaking  silence,  be  interrupted  the  lay  of  the  celebrated 
Rudpiki,  in  which  he  prefers  the  mole  on  his  mistress's 
bosom  to  all  the  wealth  of  Bokhara  and  Samarcand. 

'"'  Saracen,"  said  the  Crusader,  sternly,  ''  blinded  as  thou  art, 
and  plunged  amidst  the  errors  of  a  false  law,  thou  shouldst 
yet  comprehend  that  there  are  some  places  more  holy  than 
others,  and  that  there  are  some  scenes  also  in  which  the  Evil 
One  hath  more  than  ordinary  power  over  sinful  mortals.  I 
will  not  tell  thee  for  what  awful  reason  this  place — these 
rocks,  these  caverns  with  their  gloomy  arches,  leading  as  it 
were  to  the  central  abyss — are  held  an  especial  haunt  of 
Satan  and  his  angels.  It  is  enough,  that  I  have  been  long 
warned  to  beware  of  this  place  by  wise  and  holy  men,  to 
whom  the  qualities  of  the  unholy  region  are  well  known. 
Wherefore,  Saracen,  forbear  thy  foolish  and  ill-timed  levity, 
and  turn  thy  thoughts  to  things  more  suited  to  the  spot ; 
although,  alas  for  thee  !  thy  best  prayers  are  but  as  blas- 
phemy and  sin." 

The  Saracen  listened  with  some  surprise,  and  then  replied, 
■with  good-humor  and  gaiety,  only  so  far  repressed  as  court- 
esy required,  "  Good  Sir  Kenneth,  methinks  you  deal  un- 
equally by  your  com}ninion,  or  else  ceremony  is  but  indif- 
ferently taught  amongst  your  W\^stern  tribes.  I  took  no 
offense  when  I  saw  you  gorge  hog's  flesh  and  drink  wine, 
and  permitted  you  to  enjoy  a  treat  which  you  called  your 
Christian  liberty,  only  pitying  in  my  heart  your  foul  pas- 
times.    Wherefore,  then,  shouldst  thou  take  scandal  because 


28  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

I  cheer,  to  the  best  of  my  power,  a  gloomy  road  with  a 
cheerful  verse  ?  What  saith  the  poet — '  Song  is  like  the 
dews  of  Heaven  on  the  bosom  of  the  desert :  it  cools  the 
path  of  the  traveler.''^ 

"  Friend  Saracen,"  said  the  Christian,  "  I  blame  not  the 
love  of  minstrelsy  and  of  the  gaie  science ;  albeit  we  yield 
unto  it  even  too  much  room  in  our  thoughts,  when  they 
should  be  bent  on  better  things.  But  prayers  and  holy 
psalms  are  better  fitting  than  '  lais  '  of  love,  or  of  wine-cups, 
when  men  walk  in  this  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  full 
of  fiends  and  demons,  whom  the  prayers  of  holy  men  have 
driven  forth  from  the  haunts  of  humanity  to  wander  amidst 
scenes  as  accursed  as  themselves.'" 

"  Speak  not  thus  of  the  genii,  Christian,"  answered  the 
Saracen,  "  for  know,  thou  speak  est  to  one  whose  line  and 
nation  drew  their  origin  from  the  immortal  race  which  your 
sect  fear  and  blaspheme." 

*'Iwell  thought,"  answered  the  Crusader,  *' that  your 
blinded  race  had  their  descent  from  the  foul  fiend,  without 
whose  aid  you  would  never  have  been  able  to  maintain  this 
blessed  land  of  Palestine  against  so  many  valiant  soldiers  of 
God.  I  speak  not  thus  of  thee  in  particular,  Saracen,  but 
generally  of  thy  people  and  religion.  Strange  is  it  to  me, 
however,  not  that  you  should  have  the  descent  from  the  Evil 
One,  but  that  you  should  boast  of  it." 

''From  Avhom  should  the  bravest  boast  of  descending  sav- 
ing from  him  that  is  bravest?"  said  the  Saracen  ;  "from 
whom  should  the  proudest  trace  their  line  so  well  as  from 
the  Dark  Spirit  which  would  rather  fall  headlong  by  force 
than  bend  the  knee  by  his  will  ?  Eblis  may  be  hated,  stran- 
ger, but  he  must  be  feared  ;  and  snch  as  Eblis  are  his  de- 
scendants of  Kurdistan." 

Tales  of  magic  and  of  necromancy  were  the  learning  of 
the  period,  and  Sir  Kenneth  heard  his  companion's  confes- 
sion of  diabolical  descent  without  any  disbelief,  and  without: 
much  wonder;  yet  not  without  a  secret  shudder  at  finding 
himself  in  this  fearful  place,  in  the  company  of  one  who 
avouched  himself  to  belong  to  such  a  lineage.  Naturally 
unsusceptible,  however,  of  fear,  he  crossed  himself,  and 
stoutly  demanded  of  the  Saracen  an  account  of  the  pedigree 
which"  he  had  boasted.     The  latter  readily  complied. 

"Know,  brave  stranger,"  he  said,  "that  when  the  cruel 
Zohauk.oneof  the  descendants  of  Giamschid,*  held  tlie  throne' 
of  Persia,  he  formed  a  league  with  the  Powers  of  Darkness, 
*  See  Note  3. 


THE  TALISMAN  29 

amidst  the  secret  vaults  of  Istakliar — vaults  which  the  hands 
of  the  elementary  spirits  had  hewn  out  of  tlie  living  rock,  long 
before  Adam  himself  had  an  existence.  Here  he  fed,  with 
daily  oblations  of  human  blood,  two  devouring  serpents,which 
had  become,  according  to  the  poets,  a  part  of  himself,  and  to. 
sustain  whom  he  levied  a  tax  of  daily  human  sacrifices,  till 
the  exhausted  patience  of  his  subjects  caused  some  to  raise 
up  the  scimitar  of  resistance,  like  the  valiant  Blacksmith  and 
the  victorious  Feridoun,  by  whom  the  tyrant  was  at  length 
dethroned,  and  imprisoned  forever  in  the  dismal  caverns  of 
the  mountain  Damavend.  But  ere  that  deliverance  had 
taken  place,  and  whilst  the  power  of  the  bloodthirsty  tyrant 
was  at  its  height,  the  band  of  ravening  slaves  whom  he  had 
sent  forth  to  purvey  victims  for  his  daily  sacrifice  brought  to 
the  vaults  of  the  palace  of  Istakhar  seven  sisters  so  beautiful 
that  they  seemed  seven  houris.  These  seven  maidens  were 
the  daughters  of  a  sage,  who  had  no  treasures  save  those 
beauties  and  his  own  wisdom.  The  last  was  not  sufficient  to 
foresee  this  misfortune,  the  former  seemed  ineffectual  to 
prevent  it.  The  eldest  exceeded  not  her  twentieth  year,  the 
youngest  had  scarce  attained  her  thirteenth  ;  and  so  like 
were  they  to  each  other,  that  they  could  not  have  been  dis- 
tinguished but  for  the  difference  of  height,  in  which  they 
gradually  rose  in  easy  gradation  above  each  other,  like  the 
ascent  which  leads  to  the  gates  of  Paradise.  So  lovely  were 
these  seven  sisters  when  they  stood  in  the  darksome  vault, 
disrobed  of  all  clothing  saving  a  cymar  of  white  silk,  that 
their  charms  moved  the  hearts  of  those  who  were  not  mortal. 
Thunder  muttered,  the  earth  shook,  the  wall  of  the  vault 
was  rent,  and  at  the  chasm  entered  one  dressed  like  a  hunter, 
with  bow  and  shafts,  and  followed  by  six  others,  his  breth- 
ren. They  were  tall  men,  and  though  dark,  yet  comely  to 
behold,  but  their  eyes  had  more  the  glare  of  those  of  the 
dead  than  the  light  which  lives  under  the  eyelids  of  the  living. 
*Zeineb,'  said  the  leader  of  the  band,  and  as  he  spoke  he 
took  the  eldest  sister  by  the  hand,  and  his  voice  was  soft, 
low,  and  melancholy,  'I  am  Cothrob,  king  of  the  subter- 
ranean world,  and  supreme  chief  of  Ginnistan.  I  and  my 
brethren  are  of  those  who,  created  out  of  the  pure  element- 
ary fire,  disdained,  even  at  the  command  of  Omnipotence, 
to  do  homage  to  a  clod  of  earth,  because  it  was  called  man. 
Thou  mayst  have  heard  of  us  as  cruel,  unrelenting,  and  per- 
cuting.  It  is  false.  AVe  are  by  nature  kind  and  gener- 
us  ;  only  vengeful  when  insulted,  only  cruel  when  affronted, 
e  are  true  to  those  who  trust  us ;  and  we  have  heard  the 


80  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

invocations  of  thy  father,  the  sage  Mithrasp,  who  wisely  wor- 
ships not  alone  tlie  Origin  of  Good,  but  that  which  is  called 
the  Source  of  Evil.  You  and  your  sisters  are  on  the  eve  of 
death  ;  but  let  each  give  to  us  one  hair  from  your  fair  tresses 
in  token  of  fealty,  and  we  will  carry  you  many  miles  from 
hence  to  a  phice  of  safety,  where  you  may  bid  defiance  to 
Zohauk  and  his  ministers."  The  fear  of  instant  death,  saith 
the  poet,  is  like  the  rod  of  the  prophet  Haroun,  which  de- 
voured, all  other  rods,  when  transformed  into  snakes  before 
the  King  of  Pharaoh  ;  and  the  daughters  of  the  Persian  sage 
were  less  apt  than  others  to  be  afraid  of  the  addresses  of  a 
spirit.  They  gave  the  tribute  which  Cothrob  demanded, 
and  in  an  instant  the  sisters  were  transported  to  an  enchanted 
castle  on  the  mountains  of  Tugrut,  in  Kurdistan,  and  were 
never  again  seen  by  mortal  eye.  But  in  process  of  time 
seven  youths,  distinguished  in  the  Avar  and  in  the  chase,  ap- 
peared in  the  environs  of  the  castle  of  the  demons.  They 
were  darker,  taller,  fiercer,  and  more  resolute  than  any  of  the 
scattered  inhabitants  of  the  valleys  of  Kurdistan  ;  and  they 
took  to  themselves  wives,  and  became  fathers  of  the  seven 
tribes  of  the  Kurdmans,  whose  valor  is  known  throughout 
the  universe." 

The  Christian  knight  heard  with  wonder  the  wild  tale,  ot 
which  Kurdistan  still  possesses  the  traces,  and,  after  a  mo- 
ment's thought,  replied,  "  Verily,  sir  knight,  you  have  spoken 
well :  your  genealogy  may  be  dreaded  and  hated,  but  it  can- 
not be  contemned.  Neither  do  I  any  longer  wonder  at  your 
obstinacy  in  a  false  faith  ;  since,  doubtless,  it  is  part  of  the 
fiendish  disposition  which  hath  descended  from  your  ances- 
tors, those  infernal  huntsmen,  as  you  have  described  them, 
to  love  falsehood  rather  than  truth  ;  and  I  no  longer  marvel 
that  your  spirits  become  high  and  exalted,  and  vent  them- 
selves in  verse  and  in  tunes,  when  you  approach  to  the  places 
encumbered  by  the  Iiaunting  of  evil  spirits,  which  must  ex- 
cite in  you  that  joyous  feeling  which  others  experience  when 
approaching  the  land  of  their  human  ancestry." 

"  By  my  father's  beard,  I  think  thou  hast  the  right,*'  said 
the  Saracen,  rather  amused  than  offended  by  the  freedom 
with  which  the  Christian  had  uttered  his  reflections ;  *'  for, 
though  the  Prophet — blessed  be  his  name  ! — hath  sown 
amongst  us  the  seed  of  a  better  faith  than  our  ancestors 
learned  in  the  ghostly  halls  of  Tugrut,  yet  we  are  not  will- 
ing, like  other  Moslemah,  to  pass  hasty  doom  on  the  lofty  and 
powerful  elementary  spirits  from  whom  we  claim  our  origin. 
These  genii,  according  to  our  belief  and  hope,  are  not  al- 


THE  TALISMAN  tr 

together  reprobate,  but  are  still  in  the  way  of  probation,  and 
may  hereafter  be  ])unishecl  or  rewarded.  Leave  we  this  to 
the  mollahs  and  the  imautns.  Enough  tliat  with  us  the 
reverence  for  these  spirits  is  not  altogether  effaced  by  what 
we  have  learned  from  the  Koran,  and  that  many  of  us  still 
sing,  in  memorial  of  our  fathers  more  ancient  faith,  such 
verses  as  these."  So  saying,  he  proceeded  to  chant  verses, 
very  ancient  in  the  language  and  structure,  which  some  have 
thought  derive  their  source  from  the  worshipers  of  Ari- 
toaues,  the  Evil  Principle. 

Bbrfman. 

Dark  Ahriman,  whom  Irak  still 
Holds  origin  of  woe  and  ill, 

When,  bending  at  thy  shrine. 
We  view  the  world  with  troubled  eye. 
Where  see  we  'neath  the  extended  sky, 

An  empire  matching  tliine  ? 

If  tlie  Benigner  Power  can  j^ield 
A  fountain  in  tlie  desert  field. 

Wliere  weary  pilgrims  drink  : 
Thine  are  the  waves  that  lash  the  rock, 
Thine  the  tornado's  deadly  shock, 

Where  countless  navies  sink. 

Or  if  He  bid  tl  ?  soil  dispense 
Balsams  to  cheer  the  sinking  sense, 

How  few  can  tliey  deliver 
From  lingering  pains,  or  pang  intense, 
Red  fever,  spotted  pestilence, 

The  arrows  of  thy  quiver  ? 

Chief  in  man's  bosom  sits  thy  sway, 
And  frequent,  while  in  words  we  pray 

Before  another  throne, 
Whate'er  of  specious  form  be  there. 
The  secret  meaning  of  the  prayer 

Is,  Ahriman,  thine  own. 

Say,  hast  thou  feeling,  sense,  and  form. 
Tliunder  thy  voice,  thy  garments  storm. 

As  Eastern  magi  say  ; 
With  sentient  soul  of  hate  and  wrath, 
And  wings  to  sweep  thy  deadly  path, 

And  fangs  to  tear  thy  prey? 

Or  art  tliou  mix'd  in  Nature's  source, 
An  ever-operating  force, 
Converting  good  to  ill ; 


as  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

An  evil  jjrinciple  innate, 
Contending  with  our  better  fate, 
And  oh  1  victorious  still  ? 

Howe'er  it  be,  dispute  is  vain. 

On  all  without  thou  hold'st  thy  reign 

Nor  less  on  all  within  ; 
Each  mortal  passion's  fierce  career. 
Love,  hate,  ambition,  joy,  and  fear, 

Thou  goadest  into  sin. 

Whene'er  a  sunny  gleam  appears, 
To  brighten  up  our  vale  of  tears. 

Thou  art  not  distant  far  ; 
'Mid  such  brief  solace  of  our  lives. 
Thou  whett'st  our  very  banquet-knives 

To  tools  of  death  and  war. 

Tlius,  from  the  moment  of  our  birth. 
Long  as  we  linger  on  the  earth, 

Thou  rulest  tlie  fate  of  men  ; 
Thine  are  the  pangs  of  life's  last  hour, 
And — who  dare  answer  ?— is  thy  power. 

Dark  Spirit !  ended  Then?* 

These  verses  may  perhaps  have  been  the  not  unnatural 
effusion  of  some  half-enlightened  philosopher,  who,  in  the 
fabled  deity,  Arimanes,  saw  but  the  prevalence  of  moral  and 
physical  evil  ;  but  in  the  ears  of  Sir  Kenneth  of  the  Leop- 
ard they  had  a  different  effect,  and,  sung  as  they  were  by 
one  who  had  just  boasted  himself  a  descendant  of  demons, 
sounded  very  like  an  address  of  worship  to  the  Arcli-fiend 
himself.  He  weighed  within  himself  whether,  on  hearing 
such  blasphemy  in  the  very  desert  where  Satan  had  stood 
rebuked  for  demanding  homage,  taking  an  abrupt  leave  of 
the  Saracen  was  sufficient  to  testify  his  abhorreuce ;  or 
whether  he  was  not  rather  constrained  by  his  vow  as  a  Crusader 
to  defy  the  infidel  to  combat  on  the  spot,  and  leave  him  food 
for  the  beasts  of  the  wilderness,  when  his  attention  was 
suddenly  caught  by  an  unexpected  apparition. 

The  light  was  now  verging  low,  yet  served  the  Knight 
still  to  discern  that  they  two  were  no  longer  alone  in  the 
forest,  but  were  closely  watched  by  a  figure  of  great  height 
and  very  thin,  which  skipped  over  rocks  and  bushes  with  so 
much  agility  as,  added  to  the  wild  and  hirsute  appearance 
of  the  individual,  reminded  him  of  tlie  fauns  and  silvaus 
whose  images  he  had  seen  in  the  ancient  temples  of  Eome. 
As  the  single-hearted  Scotchman  had  never  for  a  moment 

*  See  Hymn  to  Ahriman.    Note  4. 


TEE  TALISMAN  33 

doubted  these  gods  of  the  ancient  Gentiles  to  be  actually 
devils,  so  he  now  hesitated  not  to  believe  that  the  blas- 
phemous hymn  of  the  iSaracen  had  raised  np  an  infernal 
spirit. 

"  But  what  recks  it  ?  "  said  stout  Sir  Kenneth  to  himself  ; 
"down  with  the  fiend  and  his  worshipers  I" 

He  did  not,  however,  think  it  necessary  to  give  the  same 
warning  of  detiance  to  two  enemies  as  he  would  unquestion- 
ably have  afforded  to  one.  His  hand  was  upon  his  mace, 
and  perhaps  the  unwary  Saracen  would  have  been  paid  for 
his  Persian  poetry  by  having  his  brains  dashed  out  on  the 
spot,  without  any  reason  assigned  for  it ;  but  the  Scottish 
knight  was  spared  from  committing  what  would  have  been 
a  sore  blot  in  his  shield  of  arms.  The  apparition,  on  which 
his  eyes  had  been  fixed  for  some  time,  had  at  first  appeared 
to  dog  their  path  by  concealing  itself  behind  rocks  and 
shrubs,  using  those  advantages  of  the  ground  with  great  ad- 
dress, and  surmonnting  its  irregularities  with  surprising 
agility.  At  length,  just  as  the  Saracen  paused  in  his  song, 
the  figure,  which  was  that  of  a  tall  man  clothed  in  goat- 
skins, sprung  into  the  midst  of  the  path,  and  seized  a  rein 
of  the  Saracen's  bridle  in  either  hand,  confronting  thus 
md  bearing  back  the  noble  horse,  which,  unable  to  endure 
the  manner  in  which  this  sudden  assailant  pressed  the  long- 
armed  bit  and  the  severe  curb,  which,  according  to  the 
Eastern  fashion,  was  a  solid  ring  of  iron,  reared  npright, 
and  finally  fell  backwards  on  his  master,  who,  however, 
avoided  the  peril  of  the  fall  by  lightly  throwing  himself  to 
one  side. 

The  assailant  then  shifted  his  grasp  from  the  bridle  of  the 
horse  to  the  throat  of  the  rider,  flung  himself  above  the 
struggling  Saracen,  and,  despite  of  his  youth  and  activity, 
kept  him  undermost,  wreathing  his  long  arms  above  those 
of  his  prisoner,  who  called  out  angrily,  and  yet  half-laugh- 
ing at  the  same  time — '•  Hamako — fool — unloose  me — this 
thy  privilege — unloose  me,  or  I  will  use  my  dagger." 
Thy  dagger,  infidel  dog!"  said  the  figure  in  the  goat- 
skins, '"  hold  it  in  thy  gripe  if  thon  canst ! "  and  in  an  instant 
he  wrenched  the  Saracen's  weapon  out  of  its  owner's  hand 
and  brandished  it  over  his  head. 

"Help,  Nuzarene!"  cried  vSheerkohf,  now  seriously 
alarmed — "help,  or  the  Hanuiko  will  slay  me." 

"Slay  thee  I"  replied  tlie  dweller  of  tlie  desert;  "and 
well  hast  thou  merited  death,  for  singing  thy  blasphemous 
hymns,  not  only  to  the  praise  of  thy  false  prophet,  vho  ia 
3 


34  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  foul  fiend's  harbinger,  but  to  that  of  the  Author  of  Evil 
himself." 

The  Christian  knight  had  hitherto  looked  on  as  one  stupi- 
fied,  so  strangely  had  this  rencontre  contradicted,  in  its  prog- 
ress and  event,  all  tliat  he  had  previously  conjectured.  He 
felt,  however,  at  length,  that  it  touched  his  honor  to  inter- 
fere in  behalf  of  his  discomfited  comjoanion  ;  and  therefore 
addressed  himself  to  the  victorious  figure  in  the  goat-skins. 

"Whosoe'er  thou  art,"  he  said,  "and  whether  of  good  or 
of  evil,  know  that  I  am  sworn  for  the  time  to  be  true  com- 
panion to  the  Saracen  whom  thou  boldest  under  thee  ;  there- 
fore, I  pray  thee  to  let  him  arise,  else  I  will  do  battle  with 
thee  in  his  behalf." 

"  And  a  proper  quarrel  it  were,"  answered  the  Bamako, 
**  for  a  Crusader  to  do  battle  in — for  the  sake  of  an  un- 
baptized  dog  to  combat  one  of  his  own  holy  faith  !  Art  thou 
come  forth  to  the  wilderness  to  fight  for  the  Crescent  against 
the  Cross  ?  A  goodly  soldier  of  God  art  thou,  to  listen  to 
those  who  sing  the  praises  of  Satan  !  " 

Yet,  while  he  spoke  thus,  he  arose  himself,  and,  suffering 
the  Saracen  to  arise  also,  returned  him  his  cangiar  or 
poniard. 

**Thou  seest  to  what  a  point  of  peril  thy  presumption 
hath  brought  thee,"  continued  he  of  the  goat-skins,  now  ad- 
dressing Sheerkohf,  ''and  by  what  weak  means  thy  practised 
skill  and  boasted  agility  can  be  foiled,  when  such  is  Heaven's 
pleasure.  Wherefore,  beware,  0  Ilderim  !  for  know  that, 
were  there  not  a  twinkle  in  the  star  of  thy  nativity  which 
promises  for  thee  something  that  is  good  and  gracious  in 
Heaven's  good  time,  we  two  had  not  parted  till  I  had  torn 
asunder  the  throat  which  so  lately  trilled  forth  blasphemies." 

"  Humako,"  said  the  Saracen,  without  any  appearance  of 
resenting  the  violent  language,  and  yet  more  violent  assault, 
to  which  he  had  been  subjected — "  I  pray  thee,  good  Ham- 
ako,  to  beware  how  thou  dost  again  urge  thy  privilege  over 
far  ;  for  though,  as  a  good  jVIoslem,  I  respect  those  whom 
Heaven  hath  dej^rived  of  ordinary  reason,  in  order  to  endow 
them  with  the  spirit  of  prophecy,  yet  I  like  not  other  men's 
hands  on  the  bridle  of  my  horse,  neither  upon  my  own  person. 
Speak,  therefore,  wliat  thou  wilt,  secure  of  any  resentment 
fro'  1  me  ;  but  gather  so  much  sense  as  to  apprehend  that,  if 
thou  shalt  again  proffer  me  any  violence,  I  Avill  strike  thy 
shagged  head  from  thy  meager  shoulders.  And  to  thee, 
friend  Kenneth,"  he  added,  as  he  remounted  his  steed,  "I 
must  needs  say  that,  in  a  companion  through  the  desert,  i 


THE  TALISMAN  33 

love  frieiully  deeds  better  tluiii  fair  words.  Of  tlie  Itist  tliou 
hast  given  me  enough  ;  hut  it  liad  been  l)etter  to  have  aided 
me  more  speedily  iu  my  struggle  with  this  llaniako,  who  had 
well-nigh  taken  my  life  in  his  frenzy." 

"  By  my  faith,"  said  the  Knight,  ''  I  did  somewhat  fail — • 
was  somewhat  tardy  in  rendering  thee  instant  help  ;  but  the 
strangeness  of  the  assailant,  tlie  suddenness  of  the  scene — ■ 
it  was  as  if  thy  wild  and  wicked  lay  had  raised  the  devil 
among  us,  and  such  was  my  confusion,  that  two  or  three 
minutes  elapsed  ere  I  could  take  to  my  weapon." 

"  Thou  art  but  a  cold  and  considerate  friend,"  said  the 
Saracen ;  "  and,  had  the  Hamako  been  one  grain  more 
frantic,  thy  companion  had  been  slain  by  thy  side,  to  thy 
eternal  dishonor,  without  thy  stirring  a  finger  in  his  aid, 
although  thou  satest  by,  mounted  and  in  arms." 

"By  my  word,  Saracen,"  said  the  Christian,  ''if  thou  wilt 
have  it  in  plain  terms,  I  thought  that  strange  figure  was  the 
devil  ;  and  being  of  thy  lineage,  I  knew  not  what  family 
secret  you  might  be  communicating  to  each  other,  as  you  lay 
lovingly  rolling  together  on  the  sand." 

"  Thy  gibe  is  no  answer,  brother  Kenneth,"  said  the  Sar- 
acen ;  "for  know  that,  had  my  assailant  been  in  very  deed 
the  Prince  of  Darkness,  thou  wert  bound  not  the  less  to  enter 
into  combat  with  him  in  thy  comrade's  behalf.  Know,  also, 
that  -whatever  there  may  be  of  foul  or  of  fiendish  about  the 
Hamako  belongs  more  to  your  lineage  than  to  mine,  this 
Hamako  being,  in  truth,  the  anchorite  whom  thou  art  come 
hither  to  visit." 

"  This  ! "  said  Sir  Kenneth,  looking  at  the  athletic  yet 
wasted  figure  before  him — "  this  ?  Thou  mockest,  Saracen  : 
this  cannot  be  the  venerable  Theodorick  !" 

"  Ask  himself,  if  thou  wilt  not  believe  me,"  answered 
Sheerkohf  ;  and  ere  the  w^ords  had  left  his  mouth  the  hermit 
gave  evidence  in  his  own  behalf. 

"  I  am  Theodorick  of  Engaddi,"  he  said — "  I  am  the  walker 
of  the  desert — I  am  friend  of  the  cross,  and  flail  of  all  infidels, 
heretics,  and  devil-worshipers.  Avoid  ye — avoid  ye  !  Down 
with  Mahound,  Termagaunt,  and -all  their  adherents  !"  So 
saying,  he  pulled  from  under  his  shaggy  garment  a  sort  of 
flail  or  jointed  club,  bound  with  iron,  which  he  brandished 
round  his  head  with  singular  dexterity. 

"  Thou  seest  thy  saint,"  said  the  Saracen,  laughing  for  the 
first  time  at  the  unmitigated  astonishment  with  which  Sir 
Kenneth  looked  on  the  wild  gestures  and  heard  the  wayward 
Eautteriii^  of  Theodorick,  who,  after  swinging  his  flail  in 


86  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

every  direction,  apparently  quite  reckless  whether  it  en- 
countered the  head  of  either  of  his  companions,  finally  showed 
his  own  strength  and  the  soundness  of  the  weapon  by  strik- 
ing into  fragments  a  large  stone  which  lay  near  him. 

"  This  is  a  madman,"  said  Sir  Kenneth. 

"  Not  the  worse  saint,"  returned  the  Moslem,  speaking 
according  to  the  well-know  Eastern  belief  that  madmen  are 
under  the  influence  of  immediate  inspiration.  ''Know, 
Christian,  that  when  one  eye  is  extinguished  the  other  be- 
comes more  keen,  when  one  hand  is  cut  off  the  other  becomes 
more  posverful ;  so,  when  our  reason  in  human  things  is  dis- 
turbed or  destroyed,  our  view  heavenward  becomes  more 
acute  and  perfect." 

Here  the  voice  of  the  Saracen  was  drowned  in  that  of  the 
hermit,  who  began  to  halloo  aloud  in  a  wild  chanting  tone 
— "  I  am  Theodorick  of  Engaddi — I  am  the  torch-brand  of 
the  desert — I  am  the  flail  of  the  infidels.  The  lion  and  the 
leopard  shall  be  my  comrades,  and  draw  nigh  to  my  cell  for 
shelter,  neither  shall  the  goat  be  afraid  of  their  fangs.  I  am 
the  torch  and  the  lantern.     Kyrie  eleison!  " 

He  closed  his  song  by  a  short  race,  and  ended  that  again 
by  three  forward  bounds,  which  would  have  done  him  great 
credit  in  a  gymnastic  academy,  but  became  his  character  of 
hermit  so  indifferently,  that  the  Scottish  knight  was  alto- 
gether confounded  and  bewildered. 

The  Saracen  seemed  to  understand  him  better.  ''You 
see,"  he  said,  "that  he  expects  us  to  follow  him  to  his  cell, 
which,  indeed,  is  our  only  place  of  refuge  for  the  night.  You 
are  the  leopard,  from  the  portrait  on  your  shield  ;  I  am  the 
lion,  as  my  name  imports  ,  and,  by  the  goat,  alluding  to  his 
garb  of  goatskins,  he  means  himself.  We  must  keep  him 
in  sight,  however,  for  he  is  as  fleet  as  a  dromedary." 

In  fact,  the  task  Avas  a  difficult  one,  for  though  the  rev- 
erend guide  stopped  from  time  to  time  and  waved  his  hand, 
as  if  to  encourage  them  to  come  on,  yet,  well  acquainted  witli 
all  the  winding  dells  and  passes  of  the  desert,  and  gifted 
with  uncommon  activity,  which,  perhaps,  an  unsettled  state 
of  mind  kept  in  constant  exercise,  he  led  the  knights  through 
chasms  and  along  footpaths  where  even  the  light-armed 
Saracen,  with  his  well-trained  barb,  was  in  considerable  risk, 
and  where  the  iron-sheathed  European  and  his  over-burdened 
horse  found  themselves  in  such  imminent  peril  as  the  rider 
would  gladly  have  exchanged  for  the  dangers  of  a  general 
action.  Glad  he  was,  when,  at  length,  after  his  wild  race, 
he  beheld  the  holy  man  who  had  led  it  standing  in  front  of 


THE  TALISMAN  37 

a  cavern,  with  a  large  torch  in  his  hand,  composed  of  a 
piece  of  wood  dipt  in  bitumen,  which  cast  a  broad  and  flick- 
ering light,  and  emitted  a  strong  sulpliureous  smell. 

Undeterred  by  the  stifling  vapor,  tlie  Knight  threw  him- 
self from  his  liorse  and  entered  the  cavern,  which  afforded 
small  appearance  of  accommodation.  The  cell  was  divided 
into  two  parts,  in  the  outward  of  which  were  an  altar  of 
stone  and  a  crucifix  made  of  reeds  :  this  served  the  anchorite 
for  his  chapel.  On  one  side  of  this  outward  cave  the  Chris- 
tian knight,  though  not  without  scruple,  arising  from  re- 
ligious reverence  to  the  objects  around,  fastened  up  his  horse 
and  arranged  him  for  the  night,  in  imitation  of  the  Saracen, 
who  gave  him  to  understand  that  such  was  the  custom  of 
tlie  place.  Tlie  hermit,  meanwhile,  was  busied  putting  his 
inner  apertment  in  order  to  receive  his  guests,  and  there 
they  soon  joined  him.  At  the  bottom  of  the  outer  cave,  a 
small  aperture,  closed  with  a  door  of  rough  plank,  led  into 
the  sleeping-apartment  of  the  hermit,  which  was  more  com- 
modious. The  floor  had  been  brought  to  a  rough  level  by 
tlie  labor  of  the  inhabitant,  and  then  strewed  with  white 
sand,  which  he  daily  sprinkled  with  water  from  a  small  foun- 
tain which  bubbled  out  of  the  rock  in  one  corner,  affording, 
in  that  stifling  climate,  refresiiment  alike  to  the  ear  and  the 
taste.  Mattrasses,  wrought  of  twisted  flags  lay  by  the  side 
of  the  cell  ;  the  sides,  like  the  floor,  had  been  roughly  brought 
to  shape,  and  several  herbs  and  flowers  were  hung  around 
them.  Two  waxen  torches,  which  the  hermit  lighted,  gave 
a  cheerful  air  to  the  place,  which  was  rendered  agreeable  by 
its  fragrance  and  coolness. 

There  were  implements  of  labor  in  one  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment, in  the  other  was  a  niche  for  a  rude  statue  of  the  Vir- 
gin. A  table  and  two  chairs  showed  that  they  must  be  the 
luindiwork  of  the  anchorite,  being  different  in  their  form 
from  Oriental  accommodations.  The  former  was  covered, 
not  only  with  reeds  and  pulse,  but  also  with  dried  flesh, 
which  Theodorick  assiduously  placed  in  such  arrangement 
as  should  invite  the  appetite  of  his  guests.  This  appearance 
of  courtesy,  though  mute,  and  expressed  by  gesture  only, 
seemed  to  Sir  Kenneth  something  entirely  irreconcilable 
with  his  former  wild  and  violent  demeanor.  The  movements 
of  the  hermit  were  now  become  composed,  and  apparently 
it  was  only  a  sense  of  religious  humiliation  which  prevented 
Ills  features,  emaciated  as  they  were  by  his  austere  mode  of 
life,  from  being  majestic  and  noble.  He  trode  his  cell  as 
-^ne   who   seemed   born   to    rule   over  men,  but  who  had 


38  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

abdicated  his  empire  to  become  the  servant  of  Heaven.  Still, 
it  must  be  allowed  that  his  gigantic  size,  the  length  of  his 
unshaven  locks  and  beard,  and  the  fire  of  a  deep-set  and 
wild  eye  were  rather  attributes  of  a  soldier  than  of  a  recluse. 

Even  the  Saracen  seemed  to  regard  the  anchorite  with 
some  veneration  while  he  was  thus  employed,  and  he  whis- 
pered in  a  low  tone  to  Sir  Kenneth,  "The  Hamako  is  now 
in  his  better  mind  ;  but  he  will  not  speak  until  we  have 
eaten — such  is  his  vow." 

It  was  in  silence,  accordingly,  that  Theodorick  motioned 
to  the  Scot  to  take  his  place  on  one  of  the  low  chairs,  while 
Sheerkohf  placed  himself,  after  the  custom  of  his  nation, 
upon  a  cushion  of  mats.  The  hermit  then  lield  up  both 
hands,  as  if  blessing  the  refreshment  which  he  had  placed 
before  his  guests,  and  they  proceeded  to  eat  in  silence  as 
profound  as  his  own.  To  the  Saracen  this  gravity  was  na- 
tural, and  the  Christian  imitated  his  taciturnity,  while  he 
employed  his  thoughts  on  the  singularity  of  his  own  situa- 
tion, and  tbe  contrast  betwixt  the  wild,  furious  gesticula- 
tions, loud  cries,  and  fierce  actions  of  Theodorick,  when  they 
first  met  him,  and  the  demure,  solemn,  decorous  assiduity 
with  which  he  now  performed  the  duties  of  hospitality. 

When  their  meal  was  ended,  the  hermit,  who  had  not  him- 
self eaten  a  morsel,  removed  the  fragments  from  the  table, 
and  placing  before  the  Saracen  a  pitcher  of  sherbet,  assigned 
to  the  Scot  a  flask  of  wine. 

"  Drink,"  he  said,  "  my  children,"  they  were  the  first 
words  he  had  spoken  ;  "  the  gifts  of  God  are  to  be  enjoyed, 
when  the  Giver  is  remembered." 

Having  said  this,  he  retired  to  the  outward  cell,  probably 
for  performance  of  his  devotions,  and  left  his  guests  together 
in  the  inner  apartment  ;  when  Sir  Kenneth  endeavored,  by 
various  questions,  to  draw  from  Sheerkohf  what  that  Emir 
knew  concerning  his  host.  He  was  interested  by  more  than 
mere  curiosity  in  these  inquiries.  Difficult  a  sit  was  to  rec- 
oncile the  outrageous  demeanor  of  the  recluse  at  his  first 
appearance  to  his  present  humble  and  placid  behavior,  it 
seemed  yet  more  impossible  to  think  it  consistent  with  the 
high  consideration  in  which,  according  to  what  Sir  Kenneth 
had  learned,  this  hermit  was  held  by  the  most  enlightened 
divines  of  the  Christian  world.  Theodorick,  the  hermit  of 
Engaddi,  had,  in  that  character,  been  the  correspondent  of 
popes  and  councils  ;  to  wliom  his  letters,  full  of  elequent 
fervor,  had  described  the  miseries  imjiosed  by  the  unbelievers 
upon  the  Latin  Christians  in  the  Holy  Land,  in  colors  scarce 


THE  TALISMAN  80 

inferior  to  those  employed  at  the  Couucil  of  Clermont  by 
tlie  Hermit  Peter,  when  lie  preuclied  the  first  Crusade.  To 
find,  in  a  person  so  reverend  and  so  much  revered,  the  frantic 
gestures  of  a  mad  fakir,  induced  tlie  Christian  knight  to 
pause  ere  he  could  resolve  to  communicate  to  him  certain 
important  matters  which  he  had  in  charge  from  some  of  the 
leaders  of  the  Crusade. 

It  had  been  a  main  object  of  Sir  Kenneth's  pilgrimage, 
attempted  by  a  route  so  unusual,  to  make  such  communica- 
tions ;  but  what  he  had  that  night  seen  induced  him  to 
pause  and  reflect  ere  he  proceeded  to  the  execution  of  his 
commission.  From  the  Emir  he  could  not  extract  much  in- 
formation, but  the  general  tenor  was  as  follows  : — That,  as 
he  had  heard,  the  hermit  had  been  once  a  brave  and  valiant 
soldier,  wise  in  council  and  fortunate  in  battle,  which  last 
he  could  easily  believe  from  the  great  strength  and  agility 
which  he  had  often  seen  him  display  ;  that  he  had  appeared 
at  Jerusalem  in  the  character  not  of  a  pilgrim,  but  in  that 
of  one  who  had  devoted  himself  to  dwell  for  the  remainder 
of  his  life  in  the  Holy  Land.  Shortly  afterwards,  he  fixed 
his  residence  amid  the  scenes  of  desolation  where  they  now 
found  him,  respected  by  the  Latins  for  his  austere  devotion, 
and  by  the  Turks  and  Arabs  on  account  of  the  symptoms  of 
insanity  which  he  displayed,  and  which  they  ascribed  to  in- 
spiration. It  was  from  them  he  had  the  name  of  Hamako, 
which  expresses  such  a  character  in  the  Turkish  language. 
Sheerkohf  himself  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to  rank  their  host. 
He  had  been,  he  said,  a  wise  man,  and  could  often  for  many 
hours  together  speak  lessons  of  virtue  or  wisdom,  without 
the  slightest  appearance  of  inaccuracy.  At  other  times  he 
was  wild  and  violent,  but  never  before  had  he  seen  him  so 
mischievously  disposed  as  he  had  that  day  appeared  to  be. 
His  rage  was  chiefly  provoked  by  any  afi'ront  to  his  religion  ; 
and  there  was  a  story  of  some  wandering  Arabs  who  had  in- 
sulted his  worship  and  defaced  his  altar,  and  whom  he  had 
on  that  account  attacked  and  slain  with  the  short  flail, 
which  he  carried  with  him  in  lieu  of  all  other  weapons. 
This  incident  had  made  a  great  noise,  and  it  was  as  much 
the  fear  of  the  hermit's  iron  flail  as  regard  for  his  charcter 
as  a  hamako  which  caused  the  roving  tribes  to  respect  his 
dwelling  and  his  chapel.  His  fame  had  spread  so  far,  that 
Saladin  had  issued  particular  orders  that  he  should  be  spared 
and  protected.  He  himself,  and  other  Moslem  lords  of 
rank,  had  visited  the  cell  more  than  once,  partly  from  curi- 
osity, partly  that  they  expected  from  a  man  so  learned  as 


40  ^AVMtiLEr  NOVELS. 

the  Christian  hamako  some  insight  into  the  secrets  of  futu- 
rity. "He  had,"  continued  the  Saracen,  "a.  rashid,  or  ob- 
servatory, of  great  height,  contrived  to  view  the  heavenly 
bodies,  and  particularly  the  planetary  system  ;  by  whose 
movements  and  influences,  as  both  Christian  and  Moslem 
believed,  the  course  of  human  events  was  regulated,  and 
might  be  predicted." 

This  was  the  substance  of  the  Emir  Sheerkohf 's  informa- 
tion, and  it  left  Sir  Kenneth  in  doubt  whether  the  charac- 
ter of  insanity  arose  from  the  occasional  excessive  fervor  of 
the  hermit's  zeal,  or  whether  it  was  not  altogether  fictitious, 
and  assumed  for  the  sake  of  the  immunities  which  it 
afforded.  Yet  it  seemed  that  the  infidels  had  carried  their 
complaisance  towards  him  to  an  uncommon  length,  consid- 
ering the  fanaticism  of  the  followers  of  Mohammed,  in  the 
midst  of  whom  he  was  living,  though  the  professed  enemy 
of  their  faith.  He  thought  also  there  was  more  intimacy  of 
acquaintance  betwixt  the  hermit  and  the  Saracen  than  the 
words  of  the  latter  had  induced  him  to  anticipate  ;  and  it 
had  not  escaped  him  that  the  former  had  called  the  latter 
by  a  name  dilferent  from  that  which  he  himself  had  as- 
sumed. All  these  considerations  authorized  caution,  if  not 
suspicion.  He  determined  to  observe  his  host  closely,  and 
not  to  be  over-hasty  in  communicating  with  him  on  the  im- 
portant charge  entrusted  to  him. 

"Beware,  Saracen,"  he  said  ;  "methinks  our  host's  im- 
agination wanders  as  well  on  the  subject  of  names  as  upon 
other  matters.  Thy  name  is  Sheerkohf,  and  he  called  thee 
but  now  by  another." 

"  My  name,  when  in  the  tent  of  my  father,"  replied  the 
Kurdman,  "  was  Ilderim,  and  by  this  I  am  still  distin- 
guished by  many.  In  the  field,  and  to  soldiers,  I  am  known 
as  the  Lion  of  the  Mountain,  being  the  name  my  good 
sword  hath  won  for  me.  But  hush,  the  Hamako  comes  ;  it 
is  to  warn  us  to  rest.  I  know  his  custom  :  none  must  watch 
him  at  his  vigils." 

The  anchorite  accordingly  entered,  and  folding  his  arms 
on  his  bosom  as  he  stood  before  them,  said  with  a  solemn 
voice,  "  Blessed  be  His  name,  who  hath  appointed  the  quiet 
night  to  follow  the  busy  day,  and  the  calm  sleep  to  refresh 
the  wearied  limbs,  and  to  compose  the  troubled  spirit  ! " 

Both  warriors  replied  "  Amen  ! "  and,  arising  from  the 
table,  prepared  to  betake  themselves  to  the  couches  which 
their  host  indicated  by  waving  his  hand,  as,  making  a  rever- 
ence to  each,  he  agaiu  withdrew  from  the  apartment. 


•  hich  warrior  prayed,  ere  lie  addressed  himself  to  his  place  of  rest. 


THE  TALISMAN  41 

The  Knight  of  the  Leopard  then  disarmed  himself  of  his 
heavy  panoply,  his  Saracen  companion  kindly  assisting  him 
to  undo  his  buckler  and  clasps,  until  he  remained  in  the 
close  dress  of  chamois  leather  which  knights  and  men-at- 
arms  used  to  wear  under  their  harness.  The  Saracen,  if  he 
had  admired  the  strength  of  his  adversary  when  sheathed  in 
steel,  was  now  no  less  struck  with- the  accuracy  of  proportion 
displayed  in  his  nervous  and  well-compacted  figure.  The 
knight,  on  the  other  hand,  as,  in  exchange  of  courtesy,  he 
assisted  the  Saracen  to  disrobe  himself  of  his  upper  gar- 
ments, that  he  might  sleep  with  more  convenience,  was  on 
his  side  at  a  loss  to  conceive  how  such  slender  proportions 
and  slimness  of  figure  could  be  reconciled  with  the  vigor  he 
had  displayed  ?n  personal  contest. 

Each  warrior  prayed,  ere  he  addressed  himself  to  his  place 
of  rest.  The  Moslem  turned  towards  iiis  kehla,  the  point  to 
which  the  prayer  of  each  follower  of  the  Prophet  was  to  be 
addressed,  and  murmured  his  heathen  orisons  ;  while  the 
Christian,  withdrawing  from  the  contamination  of  the  in- 
fidel's neighborhood,  placed  his  huge  cross-handled  sword 
upright,  and  kneeling  before  it  as  the  sign  of  salvation,  told 
his  rosary  with  a  devotion  which  was  enhanced  by  the  recol- 
lection of  the  scenes  through  which  he  had  passed,  and  the 
dangers  from  which  he  had  been  rescued  in  the  course  of  the 
day.  Both  warriors,  worn  by  toll  and  travel,  were  soon  fast 
asleep,  eacii  on  his  separate  pallet. 


CHAPTEE  rV 

Kenneth,  the  Scot,  was  uncertain  how  long  his  senses  had 
been  lost  in  profound  repose,  when  he  was  roused  to  recol- 
lection by  a  sense  of  oppression  on  his  chest,  which  at  first 
suggested  a  flitting  dream  of  struggling  with  a  powerful  op- 
ponent, and  at  length  recalled  him  fully  to  his  senses.  He 
was  about  to  demand  who  was  there,  when,  opening  his 
eyes,  he  beheld  the  figure  of  the  anchorite,  wild  and  savage- 
looking  as  we  have  described,  him,  standing  by  his  bedside, 
and  pressing  his  right  hand  upon  his  breast,  while  he  held  a 
small  silver  lamp  in  the  other. 

"  Be  silent,"  said  the  hermit,  as  the  prostrate  knight 
looked  up  in  surprise  ;  "  I  have  that  to  say  to  you  which 
yonder  infidel  must  not  hear." 

These  words  he  spoke  in  the  French  language,  and  not  in 
the  lingua  franca,  or  compound  of  Eastern  and  European 
dialects,  wliicli  had  hitherto  been  used  amongst  them. 

"  Arise,'^  he  continued,  ''  put  on  thy  mantle  ;  speak  not, 
but  tread  lightly,  and  follow  me." 

Sir  Kenneth  arose  and  took  his  sword. 

"  It  needs  not,"  answered  the  anchorite,  in  a  whisper ; 
**  we  are  going  where  spiritual  arms  avail  much,  and  fleshly 
weapons  are  but  as  the  reed  and  the  decayed  gourd." 

The  knight  deposited  his  sword  by  the  bedside  as  before, 
and,  armed  only  with  his  dagger,  from  which  in  this  perilous 
country  he  never  parted,  pre^Dared  to  attend  his  mysterious 
host. 

The  hermit  then  moved  slowly  forwards,  and  was  followed 
by  the  knight,  still  under  some  uncertainty  whether  the 
dark  form  which  glided  on  before  to  show  him  the  path  was 
not,  in  fact,  the  creation  of  a  disturbed  dream.  They 
passed,  like  shadows,  into  the  outer  apartment,  without  dis- 
turbing the  paynim  emir,  who  lay  still  buried  in  repose. 
Before  the  cross  and  altar,  in  the  outward  room,  a  lamp  was 
still  burning,  a  missal  was  displayed,  and  on  the  floor  lay  a 
discipline  or  penitential  scourge  of  small  cord  and  wire,  the 
lashes  of  which  were  recently  stained  with  blood — a  token, 
no  doubt,  of  the  severe  penance  of  the  recluse.  Here  Theo- 
dorick  k-^eeled  down,  and  pointed  to  the  knight  to  take  his 
42 


THE  TALISMAN  43 

place  beside  him  upon  the  sharp  flijits,  which  seemed  pL'iced 
for  the  purpose  of  rendering  the  posture  of  reverential  devo- 
tion as  uneasy  as  possible  ;  he  read  many  prayers  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  and  chanted,  in  a  low  but  earnest  voice, 
three  of  the  penitential  psalms.  These  last  he  intermixed 
with  sighs,  and  tears,  and  convulsive  throbs,  which  bore 
witness  how  deeply  he  felt  the  divine  poetry  which  he  recited. 
The  Scottish  knight  assisted  with  profound  sincerity  at 
these  acts  of  devotion,  his  opinions  of  his  host  beginning,  in 
the  meantime,  to  be  so  much  changed  that  he  doubted 
iwhether,  from  the  severity  of  his  penance  and  the  ardor  of 
his  prayers,  he  ought  not  to  regard  him  as  a  saint ;  and 
when  they  arose  from  the  ground,  he  stood  with  reverence 
before  liim,  as  a  pupil  before  an  honored  master.  The 
Liermit  was  on  his  side  silent  and  abstracted  for  the  space  of 
1  few  minutes. 

"  Look  into  yonder  recess,  my  son,^'  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  farther  corner  of  the  cell ;  '^  there  thou  wilt  find  a  veil 
—bring  it  hither." 

The  knight  obeyed  ;  and  in  a  small  aperture  cut  out  of 
:he  wall,  and  secured  with  a  door  of  wicker,  he  found  the 
veil  inquired  for.  When  he  brought  it  to  the  light,  he  dis- 
covered that  it  was  torn,  and  soiled  in  some  places  with  some 
dark  substance.  The  anchorite  looked  at  it  with  a  deep  but 
smothered  emotion,  and,  ere  he  could  speak  to  the  Scottish 
tnight,  was  compelled  to  vent  his  feelings  in  a  convulsive 
i^roan. 

i  "  Thou  art  now  about  to  look  upon  the  richest  treasure 
Ithat  the  earth  possess,"  he  at  length  said  ;  "  wo  is  me,  that 
my  eyes  are  unworthy  to  be  lifted  towards  it  !  Alas  !  I  am 
but  the  vile  and  despised  sign,  which  points  out  to  the 
iWearied  traveler  a  harbor  of  rest  and  security,  but  must  itself 
remain  forever  without  doors.  In  vain  have  I  fled  to  the 
very  depths  of  the  rocks  and  the  very  bosom  of  the  thirsty 
desert.  Mine  enemy  hath  found  me — even  he  whom  I  have 
denied  has  pursued  me  to  my  fortresses  \" 
j  He  paused  again  for  a  moment,  and  turning  to  the  Scot- 
tish knight,  said,  in  a  firmer  tone  of  voice,  "  You  bring  me 
a  greeting  from  Kichard  of  England  ?  " 

'•  I  come  from  the  council  of  Christian  princes,"  said  the 
knight ;  ''but  the  King  of  England  being  indisposed,  I  am 
not  honored  with  his  Majesty's  commands." 

''Your  token  ?"  demanded  the  recluse. 

Sir  Kenneth  hesitated  ;  former  suspicions,  and  the  marks 
of  insanity  which  the  hermit  had  formerly  exhibited,  rushed 


44  n'A  VERLE Y  N O  VEL S 

suddenly  on  liis  thoughts  ;  but  how  suspect  a  man  whose 
manners  were  so  saintly  ?  "  My  password,"  he  said  at 
length,  is  this — '  Kings  begged  of  a  beggar.'" 

"  It  is  right,"  said  the  hermit,  while  he  paused  ;  "  I  know 
you  well,  but  the  sentinel  upon  his  post — and  mine  is  an  im- 
portant one — challenges  friend  as  well  as  foe.  " 

He  then  moved  forward  with  the  lamp,  leading  the  way 
into  the  room  which  they  had  left.     The  Saracen  lay  on  hia 
couch,  still  fast  asleep.     The  hermit  paused  by  his  side  an 
looked  down  on  him. 

''He  sleeps,"  he  said,  "in  darkness,  and  must  not  be 
awakened." 

The  attitude  of  the  Emir  did  indeed  convey  the  idea  of 
profound  repose.  One  arm,  flung  across  his  body,  as  he  lay 
with  his  face  half  turned  to  the  wall,  concealed,  with  its 
loose  and  long  sleeve,  the  greater  part  of  his  face  ;  but  the 
high  forehead  was  yet  visible.  Its  nerves,  which  during  his 
waking  hours  were  so  uncommonly  active,  were  now  motion 
less,  as  if  the  face  had  been  composed  of  dark  marble,  and 
his  long  silken  eyelashes  closed  over  his  piercing  and  hawk 
like  eyes.  The  open  and  relaxed  hand,  and  the  deep 
regular,  and  soft  breathing,  gave  all  tokens  of  the  most  pro- 
found repose.  The  slumberer  formed  a  singular  group  along 
with  the  tall  forms  of  the  hermit  in  his  shaggy  dress  of  goat- 
skins, bearing  the  lamp,  and  the  knight  in  his  close  leathern 
coat ;  tlie  former  with  an  austere  expression  of  ascetic  gloom, 
the  latter  with  anxious  curiosity  deeply  impressed  on  his  J™ 
manly  features. 

"  He  sleeps  soundly,"  said  the  hermit,  in  the  same  low, 
tone  as  before,  and  repeating  the  words,  though  he  had|"I^' 
changed  the  meaning  from  that  which  is  literal  to  a  meta-'ff^' 
phorical  sense — "  he  sleeps  in  darkness,  but  there  shall  be  f 
for  him  a  dayspring.  0,  Ilderim,  thy  waking  thoughts  are 
yet  as  vain  and  wild  as  those  which  are  wheeling  their  giddy 
dance  through  thy  sleeping  brain  ;  but  the  trumpet  shall  be^ 
heard,  and  the  dream  shall  be  dissolved." 

So  saying,  and  making  the  knight  a  sign  to  follow  him, 
the  hermit  went  towards  the  altar,  and,  jjassing  behind  it, 
pressed  a  spring,  which,  opening  without  noise,  showed  a 
small  iron  door  wrought  in  the  side  of  the  cavern,  so  as  to  be 
almost  imperceptible,  unless  upon  the  most  severe  scrutiny, 


m 

Olii 

jit, 
fliol 
ecL'il 
lool; 
ionit 

ISCeli 

irDiiu 
iiid( 
ffif'! ; 
kb. 

W' 
.p 

(TOlIli 

nnen 
mk' 
lilt 
iiidi 
ritlii 


ik 

bster 
ioiii: 
Kiiji: 

Iroiu  ■ 


The  hermit,  ere  he  ventured  fully  to  open  the  door,  dropped  ^^''i- 


some  oil  on  the  hinges,  which  the  lamp  supplied.      A  small 
staircase,  hewn  in  the  rock,  was  discovered  when  the  ironf'"^  ^ 
door  was  at  length  completely  opened. 


Ken 


mi 

lOlllDi; 


THE  TALISMAN  45 

*'  Take  the  veil  whicli  I  hold/'  said  the  hermit,  in  a  mel- 
ncholy  tone,  "  and  blind  mine  eyes  ;  for  I  may  not  looli  on 
he  treasure  which  thou  art  presently  to  behold,  without  sin 
nd  presumption/' 

Without  reply,  the  knight  hastily  muffled  the  recluse's 
lead  in  the  veil,  and  the  latter  began  to  ascend  the  staircase 

one  too  much  accustomed  to  the  way  to  require  the  use  of 
ight,  while  at  the  same  time  he  held  tlie  lamp  to  the  Scot, 
^ho  followed  him  for  many  steps  up  the  narrow  ascent.  At 
3ngth  they  rested  in  a  small  vault  of  irregular  form,  in  one 
lOok  of  which  the  staircase  terminated,  while  in  another 
orner  a  corresponding  stair  was  seen  to  continue  the 
scent.  In  a  third  angle  was  a  Gotliic  door,  very  rudely 
rnamented  with  the  usual  attributes  of  clustered  columns 
nd  carving,  and  defended  by  a  wicket,  strongly  guarded 
nth  iron,  and  studded  with  large  nails.  To  this  last  point 
he  hermit  directed  his  steps,  which  seemed  to  falter  as  he 
.pproached  it. 

"  Put  oS  thy  shoes,"  he  said  to  his  attendant ;  ''  the 
;round  on  which  thou  standest  is  holy.  Banish  from  thy 
nnermost  heart  each  profane  and  carnal-  thought,  for  to 
arbor  such  wliile  in  this  place  were  a  deadly  impiety." 

Tlie  knight  laid  aside  his  shoes  as  he  was  commanded, 
nd  the  hermit  stood  in  the  meanwhile  as  if  communing 
irith  his  soul  in  secret  prayer,  and  when  he  again  moved, 
ommanded  the  knight  to  knock  at  the  wicket  three  times. 
le  did  so.  The  door  opened  spontaneously,  at  least  Sir 
lenneth  beheld  no  one,  and  his  senses  were  at  once  assailed 
)y  a  stream  of  the  purest  light,  and  by  a  strong  and  almost 
ppressive  sense  of  the  richest  perfumes.  He  stepped  two 
)r  three  paces  back,  and  it  was  the  space  of  a  minute  ere 
le  recovered  the  dazzling  and  overpowering  effects  of  the 
.ndden  change  from  darkness  to  light. 

When  he  entered  the  apartment  in  which  this  brilliant 
uster  was  displayed,  he  perceived  that  the  light  proceeded 
rom  a  combination  of  silver  lamps,  fed  with  purest  oil,  and 
.ending  forth  the  richest  odors,  hanging  by  silver  chains 
'roni  the  roof  of  a  small  Gothic  chapel,  hewn,  like  most 
jart  of  the  hermit's  singular  mansion,  out  of  the  sound  and 
lolid  rock.  But,  whereas,  in  every  other  place  which  Sir 
Kenneth  had  seen,  the  labor  employed  upon  the_  rock  liad 
Deen  of  the  simplest  and  coarsest  description,  it  had  in 
ihis  chapel  employed  the  invention  and  the  chisels  of  the 
nost  able  architects.  The  groined  roofs  rose  from  six 
jolumns  on  each    side,    carved  with  the  rarest  skill ;   and 


46  WAVEttLEY  NOVELS 

the  manner  in  which  the  crossings  of  the  concave  archea 
were  bound  together,  as  it  were,  with  appropriate  orna- 
ments, was  all  in  the  finest  tone  of  the  architecture  and 
of  the  age.  Corresponding  to  the  line  of  pillars,  there 
were  on  each  side  six  richly  wrought  niches,  each  of  which 
contained  the  image  of  one  of  the  twelve  apostles. 

At  the  upper  and  eastern  end  of  the  chapel  stood  the 
altar,  behind  which  a  very  rich  curtain  of  Persian  silk,  em- 
broidered deeply  with  gold,  covered  a  recess,  containing, 
unquestionably,  some  image  or  relic  of  no  ordinary  sanc- 
tity, in  honor  of  whom  this  singular  place  of  worship  had 
been  erected.  Under  the  persuasion  that  this  must  be  the 
case,  the  knight  advanced  to  the  shrine,  and,  kneeling 
down  before  it,  repeated  his  devotions  with  fervency,  dur- 
ing which  his  attention  was  disturbed  by  the  curtain  being 
suddenly  raised,  or  rather  pulled  aside,  how  or  by  whom 
he  saw  not ;  but  in  the  niche  which  was  thus  disclosed  he 
beheld  a  cabinet  of  silver  and  ebony  with  a  double  fold- 
ing-door, the  whole  formed  into  the  miniature  resemblance 
of  a  Gothic  church. 

As  he  gazed  with  anxious  curiosity  on  the  shrine,  the 
two  folding-doors  also  flew  open,  discovering  a  large  piece 
of  wood,  on  which  were  blazoned  the  words  "  Vera  Crux  " 
at  the  same  time  a  choir  of  female  voices  sung  Gloria 
Patri.  The  instant  the  strain  had  ceased,  the  shrine  waf 
closed  and  the  curtain  again  drawn,  and  the  knight  whc 
knelt  at  the  altar  might  now  continue  his  devotions  un 
disturbed  in  honor  of  the  holy  relic  which  had  been  jusi  y 
disclosed  to  his  view.  He  did  this  under  the  profounc 
impression  of  one  who  had  witnessed,  with  his  own  ey 
an  awful  evidence  of  the  truth  of  his  religion,  and  it  waj 
some  time  ere,  concluding  his  orisons,  he  arose  and  ven 
tured  to  look  around  him  for  the  hermit,  who  had  guidec 
him  to  this  sacred  and  mysterious  spot.  He  beheld  him 
his  head  still  muffled  in  the  veil  which  he  had  himsel 
wrapped  around  it,  couching,  like  a  rated  hound,  upon  th( 
tlireshold  of  the  chapel,  but,  apparently,  without  ventur 
ing  to  cross  it :  the  holiest  reverence,  the  most  penitentia 
remorse  was  expressed  by  his  posture,  which  seemed  tha 
of  a  man  borne  down  arid  crushed  to  the  earth  by  the  bur| 
den  of  his  inward  feelings.  It  seemed  to  the  Scot  that  onl 
the  sense  of  the  deepest  penitence,  remorse,  and  humiliatio 
could  have  thus  prostrated  a  frame  so  strong  and  a  spirit  s 
fiery. 

He  approached  him  as  if  to  speak,  but  the  recluse  antic: 


!fri 
iJBh 
Hi 
bale 
lejii 
Hire' 

'fco:, 
feiitij 

ilicli't, 
K. 
kit 


THE  TALISMAN  47 

pating  his  purpose,  murmuring  in  stifled  tones  from  beneath 
the  fold  in  which  his  head  was  muffled,  and  which  sounded 
like  a  voice  proceeding  from  the  cerements  of  a  corpse — 
"  Abide — abide  ;  happy  thou  that  mayst — the  vision  is  not 
yet  ended."  So  saying,  he  reared  himself  from  the  ground, 
drew  back  from  the  tlireshold  on  which  he  had  hitherto  Iain 
prostrate,  and  closed  the  door  of  the  chapel,  which,  secured 
by  a  spring  bolt  within,  the  snap  of  which  resounded  through 
the  place,  appeared  so  much  like  a  part  of  the  living  rock 
from  which  the  cavern  was  hewn  that  Kenneth  could  hardly 
discern  whore  the  aperture  had  been.  He  was  now  alone  in 
the  lighted  chapel,  which  contained  the  relic  to  which  lie 
had  lately  rendered  his  homage,  without  other  arms  than  his 
dauger,  or  other  companion  than  his  pious  thoughts  and 
dauntless  courage. 

Uncertain  what  was  next  to  happen,  but  resolved  to  abide 
the  course  of  events.  Sir  Kenneth  paced  the  solitary  chapel 
till  about  the  time  of  the  earliest  cock-crowing.  At  this  dead 
season,  when  night  and  morning  met  together,  he  heard,  but 
:from  what  quarter  he  could  not  discover,  the  sound  of  such 
,a  small  silver  bell  as  is  rung  at  the  elevation  of  the  host,  in 
I  the  ceremony,  or  sacrifice,  as  it  has  been  called,  of  the  mass. 
The  hour  and  the  place  rendered  the  sound  fearfully  solemn, 
and.  bold  as  he  was,  the  knight  withdrew  himself  into  the 
farther  nook  of  the  chapel,  at  the  end  opposite  to  the  altar, 
in  order  to  observe,  without  interruption,  the  consequences 
of  this  unexpected  signal. 

He  did  not  wait  long  ere  the  silken  curtain  was  again  with- 
drawn, and  the  relic  again  presented  to  his  view.  As  he 
sunk  reverentially  on  his  knee,  he  heard  the  sound  of  the 
lauds,  or  earliest  office  of  the  Catholic  Church,  sung  by 
female  voices,  which  united  together  in  the  performance  as 
they  had  done  in  the  former  service.  The  knight  was  soon 
aware  that  the  voices  were  no  longer  stationary  in  the  dis- 
tance, but  approached  the  chapel  and  became  louder,  when 
a  door,  imperceptible  wheii  closed,  like  that  by  which  had  he 
himself  entered,  opened  on  the  other  side  of  the  vault,  and 
gave  the  tones  of  the  choir  more  room  to  swell  along  the 
ribbed  arches  of  the  roof. 

The  knight  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  opening  with  breathless 
anxiety,  and,  continuing  to  kneel  in  the  attitude  of  devotion 
which  the  place  and  scene  required,  expected  the  consequence 
of  these  preparations.  A  procession  appeared  about  to  issue 
from  the  door.  First,  four  beautiful  boys,  whose  arms,  neck, 
and  legs  were  bare,  showing  the  bronze  complexion  of  the 


48  W  A  VERLEY  N  O  VEL  S 

East,  and  contrasting  with  tlie  snow-white  tunics  which  they 
wore,  entered  the  chapel  by  two  and  two.  The  first  pair 
bore  censers,  which  they  swung  from  side  to  side,  adding 
double  fragrance  to  the  odors  with  which  the  chapel  already 
was  impregnated.     The  second  pair  scattered  flowers. 

After  these  followed,  in  due  and  majestic  order,  the 
females  who  composed  the  choir — six,  who,  from  their  black 
scapularies  and  black  veils  over  their  white  garments,  ap- 
peared to  be  professed  nuns  of  the  order  of  Mount  Carmel, 
and  as  many  whose  veils,  being  white,  argued  them  to  be 
novices,  or  occasional  inhabitants  in  the  cloister,  who  were 
not  as  yet  bound  to  it  by  vows.  The  former  held  in  their 
hands  large  rosaries,  while  the  younger  and  lighter  figures 
who  followed  carried  each  a  chaplet  of  red  and  white  roses. 
They  moved  in  procession  around  the  chapel  without  appear- 
ing to  take  the  slightest  notice  of  Kenneth,  although  passing 
so  near  him  that  their  robes  almost  touched  him  ;  while  they 
continued  to  sing,  the  knight  doubted  not  that  he  was  in 
one  of  those  cloisters  where  the  noble  Christian  maidens  had 
formerly  openly  devoted  themselves  to  the  services  of  the 
church.  Most  of  them  had  been  suppressed  since  the  Ma- 
hometans had  reconquered  Palestine,  but  many,  purchasing 
connivance  by  presents,  or  receiving  it  from  the  clemency  or 
contempt  of  the  victors,  still  continued  to  observe  in  j)rivate 
the  ritual  to  which  their  vows  had  consecrated  them.  Yet, 
though  Kenneth  knew  this  to  be  the  case,  the  solemnity  of 
the  place  and  hour,  the  surprise  at  the  sudden  appearance  of 
these  votresses,  and  the  visionary  manner  in  which  tliey  moved 
past  him,  had  such  influence  on  his  imagination,  that  he 
could  scarce  conceive  that  the  fair  procession  which  he  beheld 
was  formed  of  creatures  of  this  world,  so  much  did  they  re- 
semble a  choir  of  supernatural  beings  rendering  homage  to 
the  universal  object  of  adoration.  ' 

Such  was  the  knight's  first  idea,  as  the  procession  passed 
him,  scarce  moving,  save  just  sufficiently  to  continue  their 
progress  ;  so  that,  seen  by  the  shadowy  and  religious  light 
which  the  lamps  shed  through  the  clouds  of  incense  which 
darkened  the  apartment,  they  aiJpeared  rather  to  glide  than 
to  walk. 

But  as  a  second  time,  in  surrounding  the  chapel,  they 
passed  the  spot  on  which  he  kneeled,  one  of  the  white-stoled 
maidens,  as  she  glided  by  him,  detached  from  the  chaplet 
■which  she  carried  a  rosebud,  which  dropped  from  her  fingers, 
perhaps  unconsciously,  on  the  foot  of  Sir  Kenneth.  The 
knight  started  as  if  a  dart  had  suddenly  struck  his  person ; 


THE  TALISMAN  49 

for,  when  the  mind  is  wound  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  feeling 
and  expectation,  the  slightest  incident,  if  unexpected,  gives 
fire  to  the  train  which  imagination  has  already  laid.  But 
he  suppressed  his  emotion,  recollecting  how  easily  an  incident 
Bo  indifferent  might  have  happened,  and  that  it  was  only  the 
uniform  monotony  of  the  movement  of  the  choristers  which 
made  the  incident  in  the  slightest  degree  remarkable. 

Still,  while  the  procession  for  the  third   time  surrounded 
the  chapel,  the  thoughts  and  the  eyes  of  Kenneth  followed 
exclusively  the  one  among  the  novices  who  had  dropped  the 
rosebud.     Her  step,  her  face,  her  form  was  so  completely 
assimilated  to  the  rest  of  the  choristers,  that  it  was  impos- 
^  sible  to  perceive  the  least  marks  of  individuality,  and  yet 
;  Kenneth's  heart  throbbed  like  a  bird  that  would  burst  from 
:  its  cage,  as  if  to  assure  him,  by  his  sympathetic  suggestions, 
that  the  female  who  held  the  right  file  on  the  second  rank  of 
'  the  novices  was  dearer  to  him,  no  t  only  than  all  the  rest  that  were 
j  present,  but  than  the  whole  sex  besides.     The  romantic  passion 
1  of  love,  as  it  was  cherished,    and  indeed  enjoyed,    by  the 
rules  of  chivalry,  associated  well  with  no  less  romantic  feel- 
ings of  devotion  ;    and  they  might  be   said   much  more  to 
enliance  than  to  counteract  each  other.     It  was,  therefore, 
'  Wxth  a  glow  of  expectation   that   had  something  even  of  a 
j  religious  character  that  Sir  Kenneth,  his  sensations  thrilling 
[from  his  heart  to  the  ends  of  his  fingers,  expected  some  sec- 
j  ond  sign  of  the  presence  of  one  who,  he  strongly   fancied, 
I  had  already  bestowed  on  him  the  first.      Short  as  the  space 
was  during  which  the  procession  again   completed  a  third 
I  perambulation  of  the  chapel,  it  seemed  an  eternity  to  Ken- 
neth.    At  length  the  form  which  he  had  watched  with  such 
devoted  attention  drew  nigh  ;    there   was  no   difference  be- 
twixt that  shrouded  figure  and  the  others  with   whom  it 
moved  in  concert  and  in  unison,  until,  just  as  she  passed  for 
the  third  time  the  kneeling  Crusader,  a  part  of  a  little  and 
well-proportioned   hand,  so   beautifully    formed  as   to  give 
the  highest  idea  of  the  perfect  proportions  of  the  form  to 
which  it  belonged,   stole  through  the  folds   of  the  gauze, 
like  a   moonbeam  through   the  fleecy   cloud  of  a  summer 
]  night,  and  again  a  rosebud  lay  at  the  feet  of  the   Knight  of 
;  the  Leopard. 

This  second  intimation  could  not  be  accidental  :  it  could 
not  be  fortuitous — the  resemblance  of  that  half-seen,  but 
beautiful,  female  hand  with  one  which  his  lips  had  once 
touched,  and,  while  they  touched  it,  had  internally  sworn 
allegiance  to  the  lovely  owner.      Had  farther  proof  beer 

I     ' 


60  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

wanting,  there  was  the  glimmer  of  that  matchless  ruby  ring 
on  that  snow-white  finger,  whose  invaluable  wortli  Kenneth 
would  yet  have  prized  less  than  the  slightest  sign  which  that 
finger  could  have  made  ;  and,  veiled  too,  as  she  was,  he 
might  see,  by  chance  or  by  favor,  a  stray  curl  of  the  dark 
tresses,  each  hair  of  which  was  dearer  to  him  a  hundred 
times  than  a  chain  of  massive  gold.  It  was  the  lady  of  his 
love  !  But  that  she  should  be  here,  in  the  savage  and  se- 
questered desert,  among  vestals  who  rendered  themselves 
habitants  of  wilds  and  of  caverns  that  they  might  perform 
in  secret  those  Christian  rites  which  they  dared  not  assist 
in  openly — that  this  should  be  so,  in  truth  and  in  reality, 
seemed  too  incredible  :  it  must  be  a  dream — a  delusive  trance 
of  the  imagination.  While  these  thoughts  passed  through 
the  mind  of  Kenneth,  the  same  passage  by  which  the  pro- 
cession had  entered  the  chapel  received  them  on  their  re- 
turn. The  you7ig  sacristans,  the  sable  nuns  vanished  suc- 
cessively through  the  open  door  ;  at  length  she  from  whom 
he  had  received  this  double  intimation  passed  also  ;  yet,  in 
passing,  turned  her  head,  slightly  indeed,  but  perceptibly, 
towards  the  place  where  he  remained  fixed  as  an  image.  He 
marked  the  last  wave  of  her  veil  ;  it  was  gone — and  a  dark- 
ness sank  upon  his  soul,  scarce  less  palpable  than  that  Avhich 
almost  immediately  enveloped  his  external  sense  ;  for  the  last 
chorister  had  no  sooner  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  door 
than  it  shut  with  a  loud  sound,  and  at  the  same  instant  the 
voices  of  the  choir  were  silent,  the  lights  of  the  chapel  were 
at  once  extinguished,  and  Sir  Kenneth  remained  solitary 
and  in  total  darkness.  But  to  Kenneth  solitude  and  dark- 
ness, and  the  uncertainty  of  his  mysterious  situation,  were 
as  nothing  :  he  thought  not  of  them — cared  not  for  them — 
cared  for  nought  in  the  world  save  the  flitting  vision  which 
had  just  glided  past  him,  and  the  tokens  of  her  favor  which 
she  had  bestowed.  To  grope  on  the  floor  for  the  buds  which 
she  had  dropped — to  press  them  to  his  lips — to  his  bosom — 
now  alternately,  now  together — to  rivet  his  lips  to  the  cold 
stones  on  which,  as  near  as  he  could  judge,  she  had  so  lately 
stepped — to  play  all  the  extravagances  which  strong  affection 
suggests  and  vindicates  to  those  who  yield  themselves  up  to  it, 
were  but  the  tokens  of  passionate  love  common- to  all  ages. 
But  it  was  peculiar  to  the  times  of  chivalry,  that  in  his 
wildest  rapture  the  knight  imagined  of  no  attempt  to  follow 
or  to  chase  the  object  of  such  romantic  attachment ;  that  he 
thought  of  her  as  of  a  deity,  who,  having  deigned  to  show 
herself  for  an  instant  to  her  devoted  worshiper,  had  again 


eicej 


THE  TALISMAN  51 

eturned  to  the  darkness  of  her  sanctuary,  or  as  an  in- 
luential  phmet,  which,  having  darted  in  some  auspicious 
ainute  one  favorable  ray,  wrapped  itself  again  in  its  veil  of 
nist.  The  motions  of  the  lady  of  his  love  were  to  him  those 
if  a  superior  being,  who  was  to  move  witliout  watch  or 
ontrol,  rejoice  him  by  her  appearance  or  depress  him  by 
ler  absence,  animate  him  by  her  kindness  or  drive  him  to 
lespair  by  her  cruelty — all  at  her  own  free-will,  and  without 
ither  importunity  or  remonstrance  than  that  expressed  by 
he  most  devoted  services  of  the  heart  and  sword  of  the 
hampion,  whose  sole  object  in  life  was  to  fulfil  her  com- 
[lands,  and  by  the  splehdor  of  his  own  achievement'',  to 
xalt  her  fame. 

I  Such  were  the  rules  of  chivalry,  and  of  the  love  which  was 
ts  ruling  principle.  But  Sir  Kenneth's  attachment  was 
endercd  romantic  by  other  and  still  more  peculiar  circuin- 
itances.  He  had  never  even  heard  the  sound  of  his  lady's 
joice,  though  he  had  often  beheld  her  beauty  with  rapture. 
;5he  moved  in  a  circle  which  his  rank  of  knighthood  permit- 
ed  him  indeed  to  approach,  but  not  to  mingle  with  ;  and 
lighly  as  he  stood  distinguished  for  warlike  skill  and  enter- 
»rise,  still  the  poor  Scottish  soldier  was  compelled  to  worship 
ds  divinity  at  a  distance  almost  as  great  as  divides  the  Persian 
rom  the  sun  which  he  adores.  But  when  was  the  pride  of 
liroman  too  lofty  to  overlook  the  passionate  devotion  of  a 
j,  lover,  however  Inferior  in  degree  ?  Her  eye  had  been  on 
lim  in  the  tournament,  her  ear  had  heard  his  praises  in  the 
'eport  of  the  battles  which  were  daily  fought  ;  and  while 
ount,  duke,  and  lord  contended  for  her  grace,  it  flowed, 
mwillingly  perhaps  at  first,  or  even  unconsciously,  towards 
he  poor  Kniglit  of  the  Leopard,  who,  to  support  his  rank, 
lad  little  besides  his  sword.  When  she  looked,  and  when 
he  listened,  the  lady  saw  and  heard  enough  to  encourage 
'ler  in  a  partiality  which  had  at  first  crept  on  her  unawares. 
!f  a  knight's  personal  beauty  was  praised,  even  the  most 
irudish  dames  of  the  military  court  of  England  would  make 
n  exception  in  favor  of  the  Scottish  Kenneth  ;  and  it  of  ten- 
imes  happened  that,  notwithstanding  the  very  considerable 
'irgesses  which  princes  and  peers  bestowed  on  the  minstrels, 
n  impartial  spirit  of  independence  would  seize  the  poet,  and 
he  harp  was  swept  to  the  heroism  of  one  who  had  neither 
alfreys  nor  garments  to  bestow  in  guerdon  of  his  applause. 
The  moments  when  she  listened  to  the  praises  of  her 
3ver  became  gradually  more  and  more  dear  to  the  high-born 
jldith,  relieving  the  flattery  with  which  her  ear  was  weary, 


52  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

and  presenting  to  her  a  subject  of  secret  contemplation, 
more  worthy,  as  he  seemed  by  general  report,  than  those 
who  surpassed  him  in  ranic  and  in  the  gifts  of  fortune.  As 
her  attention  became  constantly,  though  cautiously,  fixed  on 
Sir  Kenneth,  she  grew  more  and  more  convinced  of  his  per- 
sonal devotion  to  herself,  and  more  and  more  certain  in  her 
mind  that  in  Kenneth  of  Scotland  she  beheld  the  fated 
knight  doomed  to  share  with  her  through  weal  and  woe — 
and  the  prospect  looked  gloomy  and  dangerous — the  passion- 
ate attachment  to  which  the  poets  of  the  age  ascribed  such 
universal  dominion,  and  which  its  manners  and  morals  placed 
nearly  on  the  same  rank  with  devotion  itself. 

Let  us  not  disguise  the  truth  from  our  readers.  When 
Edith  became  aware  of  the  state  of  her  own  sentiments,  chiv- 
alrous as  were  her  sentiments,  becoming  a  maiden  not  distant 
from  the  throne  of  England,  gratified  as  her  pride  must  have 
been  with  the  mute  though  unceasing  homage  rendered  to 
her  by  the  knight  whom  she  had  distinguished,  there  were 
moments  when  the  feelingfs  of  the  woman,  loving  and  be- 
loved, murmured  against  the  restraints  of  state  and  form  by 
which  she  was  surrounded,  and  when  she  almost  blamed  the 
timidity  of  her  lover,  who  seemed  resolved  not  to  infringe 
them.  The  etiquette,  to  use  a  modern  phrase,  of  birth  and 
rank,  had  drawn  around  her  a  magical  circle,  beyond  which 
Sir  Kenneth  might  indeed  bow  and  gaze,  but  within  which 
he  could  no  more  pass  than  an  evoked  spirit  can  transgress 
the  boundaries  prescribed  by  the  rod  of  a  powerful  enchanter. 
The  thought  involuntarily  pressed  on  her,  that  she  herself 
must  venture,  were  it  but  the  point  of  her  fairy  foot,  beyond 
the  prescribed  boundary,  if  she  ever  hoped  to  give  a  lover  so 
reserved  and  bashful  an  opportunity  of  so  slight  a  favor  as 
but  to  salute  her  shoe-tie.  There  was  an  example,  the 
noted  precedent  of  the  "  king's  daughter  of  Hungary,"  who 
thus  generously  encouraged  the  "  squire  of  low  degree  "  ;  and 
Edith,  though  of  kingly  blood,  was  no  king's  daughter,  any 
more  than  her  lover  was  of  low  degree  :  fortune  had  put  no 
such  extreme  barrier  in  obstacle  to  their  afllections.  Some- 
thing, however,  within  the  maiden's  bosom — that  modest 
pride  which  throws  fetters  even  on  love  itself — forbade  her, 
notwithstanding  the  superiority  of  her  condition,  to  make  |  j*"* 
those  advances  which,  in  every  case,  delicacy  assigns  >  ■  "^ 
to  the  other  sex  ;  above  all.  Sir  Kenneth  was  a  knight  so  }i 
gentle  and  honorable,  so  highly  accomplished,  as  her  im- 
agination at  least  suggested,  together  with  the  strictest  feel- 
ings of  what  was  due  to  himself  and  to  her,  that,  however 


foni 
iliac 
stied 


THE  TALISMAN  53 

constrained  her  attitude  might  be  while  receiving  his  adora- 
tions, like  the  image  of  some  deity,  who  is  neither  supposed 
to  feel  nor  to  reply  to  tlie  homage  of  its  votaries,  still  the  idol 
feared  that  to  step  prematurely  from  her  pedestal  would  be 
to  degrade  herself  in  the  eyes  of  her  devoted  worshiper. 

Yet  the  devout  adorer  of  an  actual  idol  can  even  discover 
signs  of  approbation  in  the  rigid  and  immovable  features  of 
a  marble  image,  and  it  is  no  wonder  tliat  something,  wliich 
could  be  as  favorably  interpreted,  glanced  from  the  bright 
eye  of  the  lovely  Edith,  whose  beauty,  indeed,  consisted 
rather  more  in  that  very  power  of  expression  than  on  abso- 
lute regularity  of  contour  or  brilliancy  of  complexion.  Some 
slight  marks  of  distinction  had  escaped  from  her,  notwith- 
standing her  own  jealous  vigilance,  else  how  could  Sir  Ken- 
neth have  so  readily,  and  so  undoubtingly,  recognized  the 
lovely  hand,  of  which  scarce  two  fingers  were  visible  from 
under  the  veil,  or  how  could  he  have  rested  so  thoroughly 
assured  that  two  flowers,  successively  dropped  on  the  spot, 
were  intended  as  a  recognition  on  the  part  of  his  lady  love  ? 
By  what  train  of  observation,  by  what  secret  signs,  looks,  or 
igestures,  by  what  instinctive  freemasonry  of  love,  this  degree 
;of  intelligence  came  to  subsist  between  Edith  and  her  lover, 
iwe  cannot  attempt  to  trace  ;  for  we  are  old,  and  such  slight 
'Vestiges  of  affection,  quickly  discovered  by  younger  eyes, 
defy  the  power  of  ours.  Enough,  that  such'  affection  Vlid 
.subsist  between  parties  who  had  never  even  spoken  to  one 
ianother,  though,  on  the  side  of  Edith,  it  was  checked  by  a 
!deep  sense  of  the  difficulties  and  dangers  which  must  nec- 
essarily attend  the  further  progress  of  tlieir  attachment,  and 
upon  that  of  the  knight  by  a  thousand  doubts  and  fears,  lest 
he  had  overestimated  the  slight  tokens  of  tlie  lady's  notice, 
varied  as  they  necessarily  were,  by  long  intervals  of  apparent 
coldness,  during  which  either  the  fear  of  exciting  the  observa- 
tion of  others,  and  thus  drawing  danger  uponher  lover,  or 
that  of  sinking  in  his  esteem  by  seeming  too  willing  to  be 
won,  made  her  behave  with  indifference,  and  as  if  unobservant 
of  his  presence. 

This  narrative,  tedious  perhaps,  but  which  the  story  ren- 
ders necessary,  may  serve  to  explain  the  state  of  intelligence, 
if  it  deserves  so  strong  a  name,  betwixt  the  lovers,  v/hen 
Edith's  unexpected  appearance  in  the  chapel  produced  so 
powerful  an  effect  on  the  feelings  of  her  knight. 


CHAPTER  V 

Their  necromantic  forms  in  vain 
Haunt  us  on  the  tented  plain  ; 
We  bid  these  specter  shapes  avaunt, 
Ashtarotli  and  Termagaunt. 

Waeton. 

The  most  profound  silence,  the  deepest  darkness  continued 
to  brood  for  more  tlum  an  hour  over  the  chapel  in  which  we 
left  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard  still  kneeling,  alternately  ex- 
pressing thanks  to  Heaven  and  gratitude  to  his  lady,  for  the 
boon  which  had  been  vouchsafed,  to  him.  His  own  safety 
his  own  destiny,  for  which  he  was  at  all  times  little  anxious, 
had  not  now  the  weight  of  a  grain  of  dust  in  his  reflectiona 
He  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lady  Edith,  he  had  received 
tokens  of  her  grace,  he  was  in  a  place  hallowed  by  relics  o' 
the  most  awful  sanctity.  A  Cbristian  soldier,  a  devoted 
lover  could  fear  nothing,  think  of  nothing,  but  his  duty  to 
Heaven  and  his  devoir  to  his  lady. 

At  the  lapse  of  the  space  of  time  which  we  have  noticed,  a 
shrill  whistle,  like  that  Avith  which  a  falconer  calls  his  hawk 
was  heard  to  ring  sharply  through  the  vaulted  chapel.  It 
was  a  sound  ill  suited  to  the  place,  and  reminded  Sir  Ken- 
neth how  necessary  it  was  he  sliould  be  upon  his  guard.  H(  ""^ 
started  from  his  knee,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  poniard 
A  creaking  sound,  as  of  a  screw  or  pulleys  succeeded,  and  jj 
light  streaming  upwards,  as  from  an  opening  in  the  floor 
showed  that  a  trap-door  had  been  raised  or  depressed.  Ii  |,'-'' 
less  than  a  minute,  a  long  skinny  arm,  partly  naked,  parti; 
clothed  in  a  sleeve  of  red  samite,  arose  out  of  the  aperture 
holding  a  lamp  as  high  as  it  could  stretch  upwards,  and  th 
figure  to  which  the  arm  belonged  ascended  step  by  step  tw. 
the  level  of  the  chape'l  floor.  The  form  and  face  of  th!  ijdj 
being  who  thus  presented  himself  were  those  of  a  frightfu  'if 
dwarf,  with  a  large  head,  a  cap  fantastically  adorned  wit]  ^ai 
three  peacock-feathers,  a  dress  of  red  samite,  the  richness  cj 
which  rendered  his  ugliness  more  conspicuous,  distinguishej 
by  gold  bracelets  and  armlets,  and  a  white  silk  sash,  in  whic 
he  wore  a  gold-bilted  dagger.  This  singular  figure  had  il 
his  left  hand  a  kind  of  broom.  So  soon  as  he  had  steppe' 
64 


lani 
ista 
jiilt 
11 


itib 
lich 


'tte 


TEE  TALISMAN  35 

Tom  the  aperture  through  which  he  arose,  he  stood  still, 
md,  as  if  to  show  himself  moro  distinctly,  moved  the  lamp 
vhich  he  held  slowly  over  his  face  and  person,  successively 
lluminating  his  wild  and'  fantastic  features,  and  his  mis- 
hapen,  but  nervous,  limbs.  Though  disproportioned  in  }ier- 
on,  the  dwarf  was  not  so  distorted  as  to  argue  any  want  of 
;trength  or  activity.  While  Sir  Kenneth  gazed  on  this  dis- 
igreeable  object,  the  popular  creed  occurred  to  his  remem- 
brance, concerning  the  gnomes,  or  earthly  spirits,  which 
nake  their  abode  in  the  caverns  of  the  earth  ;  and  so  much 
lid  this  figure  correspond  with  ideas  he  had  formed  of  their 
iippearance,  that  he  looked  on  it  with  disgust,  mingled  not  in- 
leed  with  fear,  but  that  sort  of  awe  which  the  presence  of 
I  supernatural  creature  may  infuse  in  the  most  steady  bosom. 

The  dwarf  again  whistled,  and  summoned  from  beneath 
I  companion.  This  second  figure  ascended  in  the  same 
iianner  as  the  first ;  but  it  Avas  a  female  arm,  in  this  second 
nstance,  which  upheld  the  lamp  from  the  subterranean 
/ault  out  of  which  these  presentments  arose,  and  it  was  a 
ilemale  form  much  resembling  the  first  in  shape  and  propor- 
:ions  which  slowly  emerged  from  the  floor.  Her  dress  was 
ilso  of  red  samite,  fantastically  cut  and  flounced,  as  if  she 
tiad  been  dressed  for  some  exhibition  of  mimes  or  jugglers  ; 
md  with  the  same  minuteness  which  her  predecessor  had 
jxhibited,  she  passed  the  lamp  over  her  face  and  person, 
w^hich  seemed  to  rival  the  male's  in  ugliness.  But.  with  all 
this  most  unfavorable  exterior,  there  was  one  trait  in  the 
features  of  both  which  argued  alertness  and  intelligence  in 
the  most  uncommon  degree.  This  arose  from  the  brilliancy 
of  their  eyes,  which,  deep-set  beneath  black  and  shaggy 
brows,  gleamed  with  a  luster  which,  like  that  in  the  eye  of 
the  toad,  seemed  to  make  some  amends  for  the  extreme 
'ugliness  of  countenance  and  person. 

Sir  Kenneth  remained  as  if  spellbound,  while  this  unlovely 
pair,  moving  round  the  chapel  close  to  each  other,  appeared 
to  perform  the  duty  of  sweeping  it,  like  menials  ;  but,  as 
they  used  only  one  hand,  the  floor  was  not  much  benefited 
by  the  exercise,  which  they  plied  with  such  oddity  of  ges- 
tures and  manner  as  befitted  their  bizarre  and  fantastic  ap- 
pearance. When  they  approached  near  to  the  knight,  in  the 
course  of  their  occupation,  they  ceased  to  use  their  brooms, 
and  placing  themselves  side  by  side,  directly  opposite  to  Sir 
Kenneth,  they  again  slowly  shifted  the  lights  which  they 
held,  so  as  to  allow  him  distinctly  to  survey  features  which 
were  not  rendered  more  agreeable^by  being  brought  nearer. 


56  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL  S 

and  to  observe  the  extreme  quickness  and  keenness  with 
which  their  black  and  glittering  eyes  flashed  back  the  light 
of  the  lamps.  They  then  turned  the  gleam  of  both  lights 
upon  the  knight,  and  having  Accurately  surveyed  him, 
turned  their  faces  to  each  other,  and  set  up  a  loud  yelling 
laugh,  which  resounded  in  his  ears.  The  sound  was  so 
ghastly,  that  Sir  Kenneth  started  at  hearing  it,  and  hastily 
demanded,  in  the  name  of  God,  who  they  were  who  profaned 
that  holy  place  with  such  antic  gestures  and  elritch  ex- 
clamations. 

"  I  am  the  dwarf  Nectabanus,"  said  the  abortion-seeming 
male,  in  a  voice  corresponding  to  his  figure,  and  resembling 
the  voice  of  the  night-crow  more  than  any  sound  which  is 
heard  by  daylight. 

"  And  I  am  Guenevra,  his  lady  and  his  love,"  replied  the 
female,  in  tones  which,  being  shriller,  were  yet  wilder  than 
those  of  her  companion. 

"  Wherefore  are  you  here  ?"  again  demanded  the  knight, 
scarcely  yet  assured  that  it  was  human  beings  which  he  saw 
before  him. 

"1  am,"  replied  the  male  dwarf,  with  much  assumed 
gravity  and  dignity,  *''the  twelfth  imaum — I  am  Mohammed 
Mohadi,  the  guide  and  the  conductor  of  the  faithful.  An 
hundred  horses  stand  ready  saddled  for  me  and  my  train  at 
the  Holy  City,  and  as  many  at  the  City  of  Eefuge.  I  am  he 
who  shall  bear  witness,  and  this  is  one  of  my  houris." 

"  Thou  liest,"  answered  the  female,  interrupting  her  com- 
panion, in  tones  yet  shriller  than  his  own  :  "I  am  none  at 
thy  houris,  and  tliou  art  no  such  infidel  trash  as  the  Mo- 
hammed of  whom  thou  speakest.  May  my  curse  rest  upon 
his  coffin  !  I  tell  thee,  thou  ass  of  Issachar,  tliou  art  King 
Arthur  of  Britain,  whom  the  fairies  stole  away  from  the, 
field  of  Avalon  ;  and  I  am  Dame  Guenevra,  famed  for  her 
beauty." 

"But,  in  truth,  noble  sir,"  said  the  male,  "we  are  dis^ 
tressed  princes,  dwelling  under  the  wing  of  King  Guy  of 
Jerusalem,  until  he  was  driven  out  from  his  own  nest  by  the 
foul  infidels — Heaven's  bolts  consume  them  !" 

"  Hush,"  said  a  voice  from  the  side  upon  which  the  knight]  ij^ 
had  entered — "hush,  fools,  and  begone;  your  ministry  is 
ended." 

The  dwarfs  had  no  sooner  heard  the  command  than,  gib 
bering  in  discordant  whispers  to  each  other,  they  blew  oul 
their  lights  at  once,  and  left  the  knight  in  utter  darkness, 
which,  when  the  pattering  of  their  retiring  feet  had  diec 


k 
ajai 
ipo 

illOl 

m 
m 
post 
rii( 
lisf 

»PF 
litD 


fi\i. 


THE  TALISMAN  5t 

away,  was  soon  accompanied  by  its  fittest  companion,  total 
silence. 

The  knight  felt  the  departure  of  these  unfortunate  crea- 
tures a  relief.  He  could  not,  from  their  language,  manners, 
and  appearance,  doubt  that  they  belonged  to  the  degraded 
class  of  beings  whom  deformity  of  person  and  weakness  of 
intellect  recommended  to  the  painful  situation  of  appendages 
to  great  families,  where  their  personal  appearance  and  imbe- 
cility were  food  for  merriment  to  the  household.  Superior 
in  no  respect  to  the  ideas  and  manners  of  his  time,  the 
Scottish  knight  might,  at  another  period,  have  been  much 
amused  by  the  mummery  of  these  poor  effigies  of  humanity  ; 
but  now  their  appearance,  gesticulations,  and  language 
broke  the  train  of  deep  and  solemn  feeling  with  which  he 
was  impressed,  and  he  rejoiced  in  the  disappearance  of  the 
unhappy  objects. 

A  few  minutes  after  they  had  retired,  the  door  at  which 
they  [the  knight]  had  entered  opened  slowly,  and,  remaining 
ajar,  discovered  a  faint  light  arising  from  a  lantern  placed 
upon  the  threshold.  Its  doubtful  and  wavering  gleam 
showed  a  dark  form  reclined  beside  the  entrance,  but  with- 
out its  precincts,  which,  on  approaching  it  more  nearly,  lie 
recognized  to  be  the  hermit,  couching  in  tlie  same  humble 
posture  in  which  he  had  at  first  laid  himself  down,  and 
which  doubtless  he  had  retained  during  the  whole  time  of 
his  guest's  continuing  in  the  chapel. 

"  All  is  over,"  said  the  hermit,  as  he  heard  the  knight 
approaching,  ''and  the  most  wretched  of  earthly  sinners, 
with  him  who  should  think  himself  most  honored  and  most 
happy  among  the  race  of  humanity,  must  retire  from  this 
place.  Take  the  light,  and  guide  me  down  the  descent,  for 
1  may  not  uncover  my  eyes  until  I  am  far  from  this  hallowed 
spot." 

The  Scottish  knight  obeyed  in  silence,  for  a  solemn  and 
yet  ecstatic  sense  of  what  he  had  seen  had  silenced  even  the 
eager  workings  of  curiosity.  He  led  the  way,  with  consider- 
able accuracy,  through  the  various  secret  passages  and  stairs 
by  which  they  had  ascended,  until  at  length  they  found 
themselves  in  the  outward  cell  of  the  hermit's  cavern. 

"The  condemned  criminal  is  restored  to  his  dungeon,  re- 
prieved from  one  miserable  day  to  another,  until  his  awful 
Judge  shall  at  lengtli  appoint  the  well-deserved  sentence  to 
be  carried  into  execution." 

As  the  hermit  spoke  these  words,  he  laid  aside  the  veil 
with  which  his  eyes  had  been  bound,  and  looked  at  it  with 


58  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS. 

a  suppressed  and  hollow  sigh.  No  sooner  had  he  restored 
it  to  the  crypt  from  which  he  had  caused  the  Scot  to  bring 
it  than  he  said  hastily  and  sternly  to  his  companion — 
"  Begone — begone  !  to  rest — to  rest !  You  may  sleep — you 
can  sleep  ;  I  neither  can  nor  may." 

Eespecting  the  profound  agitation  with  which  this  was 
spoken,  the  knight  retired  into  the  inner  cell  ;  but,  casting 
back  his  eye  as  he  left  the  exterior  grotto,  he  beheld  the 
anchorite  stripping  his  shoulders  with  frantic  haste  of  their 
shaggy  mantle,  and  ere  he  could  shut  the  frail  door  which 
separated  the  two  compartments  of  the  cavern,  he  heard  the 
clang  of  the  scourge,  and  the  groans  of  tlie  penitent  under 
his  self-inflicted  penance.  A  cold  shudder  came  over  the 
knight  as  he  reflected  what  could  be  the  foulness  of  the  sin. 
what  the  depth  of  the  remorse,  which,  apparently,  such 
severe  penance  could  neither  cleanse  nor  assuage.  He  told 
his  beads  devoutly,  and  flung  himself  on  his  rude  couch, 
after  a  glance  at  the  still  sleeping  Moslem,  and,  wearied  by 
the  various  scenes  of  the  day  and  the  niglit,  soon  slept  as 
sound  as  infancy.  Upon  his  awaking  in  the  morning,  he 
held  certain  conferences  with  the  hermit  upon  matters  of 
importance,  and  the  result  of  their  intercourse  induced  him 
to  remain  for  two  days  longer  in  the  grotto.  He  was  regular, 
as  became  a  pilgrim,  in  his  devotional  exercises,  but  was  not 
again  admitted  to  the  chapel  in  which  he  had  seen  such 
wonders. 


lore 


but 


CHAPTER  VI 

Now  change  the  scene — and  let  tne  trumpets  sound, 
For  we  must  rouse  the  lion  from  his  lair. 

Old  Play. 

The  scene  must  change,  as  our  programme  hasannounced, 
from  the  mountain  wilderness  of  Jordan  to  the  camp  of  King 
Richard  of  Enghind,  then  stationed  betwixt  Jean  d'Acre  and 
Ascalon,  and  containing  that  army  with  which  he  of  the 
Lion  Heart  had  promised  himself  a  triumphant  march  to 
Jerusalem,  and  in  which  he  would  probably  have  succeeded, 
if  not  hindered  by  the  jealousies  of  the  Christian  princes  en- 
gaged in  the  same  enterprise,  and  the  offense  taken  by  them 
at  the  uncurbed  haughtiness  of  the  English  monarch,  and 
Piichard's  unveiled  contempt  for  his  brother  sovereigns,  who, 
his  equals  in  rank,  were  yet  far  his  inferiors  in  courage, 
hardihood,  and  military  talents.  Such  discords,  and  partic- 
ularly those  betwixt  Richard  and  Philip  of  France,  created 
disputes  and  obstacles  which  impeded  every  active  measure 
proposed  by  the  heroic  though  impetuous  Richard,  while 
the  ranks  of  the  Crusaders  were  daily  thinned  not  only  by 
the  desertion  of  individuals,  but  of  entire  bands,  headed  by 
their  respective  feudal  leaders,  who  withdrew  from  a  contest 
in  which  they  had  ceased  to  hope  for  success. 

The  effects  of  the  climate  became,  as  usual,  fatal  to  soldiers 
from  the  north,  and  the  more  so,  that  the  dissolute  license 
of  the  Crusaders,  forming  a  singular  contrast  to  the  prin- 
ciples and  purpose  of  their  taking  up  arms,  rendered  them 
more  easy  victims  to  the  insalubrious  influence  of  burning 
heat  and  chilling  dews.  To  these  discouraging  causes  of 
loss  was  to  be  added  the  sword  of  the  enemy.  Saladin,  than 
whom  no  greater  name  is  recorded  in  Eastern  history,  had 
learnt  to  his  fatal  experience  that  his  light-armed  followers 
were  little  able  to  meet  in  close  encounter  with  the  ironclad 
Franks,  and  had  been  taught,  at  the  same  time,  to  apprehend 
and  dread  the  adventurous  character  of  his  antagonist 
Richard.  But,  if  his  armies  were  more  than  once  routed 
with  great  slaughter,  his  numbers  gave  the  Saracen  the  ad- 
vantage in  those  lighter  skirmishes  of  which  many  w<2re 
inevitable. 


60  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

As  the  army  of  his  assailants  decreased,  the  enterprises;, 
of  the  Sultan  became  more  numerous  and  more  bold  in  thij 
species  of  petty  warfare.  The  camp  of  the  Crusaders  wsuf. 
surrounded,  and  almost  besieged,  by  clouds  of  light  cavalry.;'''; 
resembling  swarms  of  wasps,  easily  crushed  when  they  sircf 
once  grasped,  but  furnished  with  wings  to  elude  superioi''^' 
strength  and  stings  to  inflict  harm  and  mischief.  There  wail  ^, 
perpetual  warfare  of  posts  and  foragers,  in  which  man\f 
valuable  lives  were  lost,  without  any  corresponding  objec  r 
being  gained  ;  convoys  were  intercepted,  and  communication'- " 


]:c: 


sustaining  life  by  life  itself  ;  and  water,  like  that  of  the  wel^ 
of  Bethlehem,  longed  for  by  Eing  David,  one  of  its  ancien! 
monarchs,  was  then,  as  before,  only  obtained  by  the  expen' 
diture  of  blood.  ' 

These  evils  were,  in  a  great  measure,  counterbalanced  b 
the  stern  resolution  and  restless  activity  of  King  Rich 
who,  with  some  of  his  best  knights,  was  ever  on  horsebacli 
ready  to  repair  to  any  point  where  danger  occurred,  ani 
often  not  only  bringing  unexpected  succor  to  the  Christian! 
but  discomfiting  the  infidels  when  they  seemed  most  secuij 
of  victory.     But  even  the  iron  frame  of  Coeur-de-Lion  coul 
not  support,  without  injury,  the  alternations  of  the  unwhol 
some   climate,  joined  to   ceaseless   exertions   of   body   ai 
mind.     He  became  afflicted  with  one  of  those  slow  and  wasi 
ing   fevers  peculiar  to  Asia,  and,  in   despite  of  his  gre 
strength,  and  still  greater  courage,  grew  first  unfit  to  mou:i 
on  horseback,  and  then  unable  to  attend  the  councils  of  Wi 
which  were,  from  time  to  time,  held  by  the  Crusaders, 
was  difficult  to  say  whether  this  state  of  personal  inactivij 
was  rendered  more  galling  or  more  endurable  to  the  EngU 
monarch  by  the  resolution  of  the  council  to  engage  in  a  tru' 
of  thirty  days  with  the  Sultan  Saladin  ;  for,  on  the  one  ha: 
if  he  was  incensed  at  the  delay  which  this  interposed  to  t| 
progress  of  the  great  enterprise,  he  was,  on  the  other,  sc 
what  consoled  by  knowing  that  others  were  not  acqui: 
laurels  while  he  remained  inactive  upon  a  sick-bed. 

That,  however,  which  Coeur-de-Lion  could  least  excie 
was  the  general  inactivity  which  prevailed  in  the  camp  f 
the  Crusaders  so  soon  as  his  illness  assumed  a  serious  aspe  ; 
and  the  reports  which  he  extracted  from  his  unwillg 
attendants  gave  him  to  understand  that  the  hopes  of  e 
host  had  abated  in  proportion  to  his  illness,  and  that  tlie  i- 
terval  of  truce  was  employed,  not  in  recruiting  tlir 
numbers,  reanimating  their  courage,  fostering  their  spit 


THE  TALISMAN  61 

conquest,  and  preparing  for  a  speedy  and  determined  ad- 
nce  upon  the  Holy  City,  which  was  the  object  of  tlieir 
epedition,  but  in  securing  the  camp  occupied  by  their 
(minished  followers  with  trenches,  palisades,  and  other  for- 
iications,  as  if  preparing  rather  to  repel  an  attack  from  a 
]  werful  enemy  so  soon  as  hostilities  should  recommence 
tan  to  assume  the  proud  character  of  conquerors  and  as- 
gilants. 

The  English  king  chafed  under  these  reports,  like  the 
iiprisoned  lion  viewing  his  prey  from  the  iron  barriers  of 
[5  cage.  Naturally  rash  and  impetuous,  the  irritability  of 
Is  temper  preyed  on  itself.  He  was  dreaded  by  his  attend- 
1  ts,  and  even  the  medical  assistants  feared  to  assume  the 
ice.ssary  authority  which  a  physician,  to  do  justice  to  his 
|tient,  must  needs  exercise  over  him.  One  faithful  baron, 
uo,  perhaps  from  the  congenial  nature  of  his  disposition, 
Hs  devoutly  attached  to  the  King's  person,  dared  alone  to 
mie  between  the  dragon  and  his  wrath,  and  quietly,  but 
jmlv,  maintained  a  control  Avhich  no  other  dared  assume 
(er  the  dangerous  invalid,  and  which  Thomas  de  Multon 
tly  exercised  because  Le  esteemed  his  sovereign's  life  and 
Imor  more  than  he  did  the  degree  of  favor  which  he  might 
"56,  or  even  the  risk  which  he  might  incur,  in  nursmg  a 
•tient  so  intractable,  and  whose  displeasure  was  so  perilous. 
Sir  Thomas  was  the  Lord  of  Gilslaud,  in  Cumberland,  and, 
an  age  when  surnames  and  titles  were  not  distinctly 
tached,  as  now,  to  the  individuals  who  bore  them,  he  was 
lied  by  the  Normans  the  Lord  de  Vaux.  and  in  English,  by 
e  Saxons,  who  clung  to  their  native  language,  and  Avere 
oud  of  the  share  of  Saxon  blood  in  th^s  renowned  warrior's 
ins,  he  was  termed  Thomas,  or,  more  familiarly,  Thom,  of 
e  Gills,  or  Narrow  Valleys,  from  which  his  extensive 
)mains  derived  their  well-known  appellation. 
;This  chief  had  been  exercised  in  almost  all  the  wars, 
iiether  waged  betwixt  England  and  Scotland  or  amongst 
18  various  domestic  factious  which  then  tore  the  former 
amtry  asunder,  and  in  all  had  been  distinguished  as  well 
om  his  military  conduct  as  his  personal  prowess.  He  was. 
.  other  respects,  a  rude  soldier,  blunt  and  careless  in  his 
taring,  and  taciturn,  nay,  almost  sullen,  in  his  habits  of 
iciety,  and  seeming,  at  least,  to  disclaim  all  knowledge  of 
jlicy  and  of  courtly  art.  There  were  men,  however,  who 
retended  to  look  deeply  into  character,  who  asserted  that 
le  Lord  de  Vaux  was  not  less  shrewd  and  aspiring  than  he 
as  blunt  and  bold,  and  who  thought  that,  while  he  assimi- 


82  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

lated  himself  to  the  King's  own  character  of  blunt  hardihoodj 
it  was,  iu  some  degree  at  least,  with  an  eye  to  establish  hia 
favor,  and  to  gratify  his  own  hopes  of  deep-laid  ambition. 
But  no  one  cared  to  thwart  his  schemes  if  such  he  had,  by 
rivaling  him  in  the  dangerous  occupation  of  daily  attend- 
ance on  the  sick-bed  of  a  patient  whose  disease  was  pro- 
nounced infectious,  and  more  especially  when  it  was  remem- 
bered that  the  patient  was  Coeur-de-Lion,  suffering  under  all 
the  furious  impatience  of  a  soldier  withheld  from  battle,  and 
a  sovereign  sequestered  from  authority ;  and  the  common 
soldiers,  at  least  in  the  English  army,  were  generally  of 
opinion  that  De  Vaux  attended  on  the  King  like  comrade 
upon  comrade,  in  the  honest  and  disinterested  frankness  of 
military  friendship,  contracted  between  the  partakers  of 
daily  dangers. 

It  was  on  the  decline  of  a  Syrian  day  that  Eichard  lay  on 
his  couch  of  sickness,  loathing  it  as  much  in  mind  as  his 
illness  made  it  irksome  to  his  body.  His  bright  blue  eye, 
which  at  all  times  shone  with  uncommon  keenness  and 
splendor,  had  its  vivacity  augmented  by  fever  aiid  mental 
impatience,  and  glanced  from  among  his  curled  and  unshorn 
locks  of  yellow  hair  as  fitfully  and  as  vividly  as  the  last  gleams 
of  the  sun  shoot  through  the  clouds  of  an  approaching  thunder- 
storm, which  still,  however,  are  gilded  by  its  beams.  His 
manly  features  showed  the  progress  of  wasting  illness,  and 
his  beard,  neglected  and  untrimmed,  had  overgrown  both 
lips  and  chin.  Casting  himself  from  side  to  side,  now  clutch- 
ing towards  him  the  coverings,  v/hich  at  the  next  moment 
he  flung  as  impatiently  from  him,  his  tossed  couch  and  im- 
patient gestures  showed  at  once  the  energy  and  the  reckless 
impatience  of  a  disposition  whose  natural  sphere  was  that  of 
the  most  active  exertion. 

Beside  his  couch  stood  Thomas  de  Vaux,  in  face  attitude, 
and  manner  the  strongest  possible  contrast  to  the  suffering 
monarch.  His  statute  approached  the  gigantic,  and  his  hair 
in  thickness  might  have  resembled  that  of  Samson,  though 
only  after  the  Israelitish  champion's  lock  had  passed  under 
the  shears  of  the  Philistines,  for  those  of  De  Vaux  were  cut 
short,  that  they  might  be  inclosed  under  his  helmet.  The 
light  of  his  broad,  large  hazel  eye  resembled  that  of  the 
autumn  morn,  and  it  was  only  perturbed  for  a  moment, 
when,  from  time  to  time,  it  was  attracted  by  Richard's  velie-; 
ment  marks  of  agitation  and  restlessness.  His  features,! 
though  massive  like  his  person,  might  have  been  handsome 
before  they  were  defaced  with  scars  ;  his  upper  lip,  after  tlie 


THE  TALISMAN  63 

fashion  of  the  Normans,  was  covered  with  thick  mustachios 
which  grew  so  long  and  hixariantly  as  to  mingle  with  his 
hair,  and,  like  his  hair,  were  dark  brown,  slightly  brindled 
with  gray.  His  frame  seemed  of  that  kind  which  most 
readily  defies  both  toil  and  climate,  for  he  was  thin-flanked, 
broad-chested,  long-armed,  deep-breathed,  and  strong- 
limbed.  He  had  not  laid  aside  his  bnif-coat,  which  displayed 
the  cross  cnt  on  the  shonlder,  for  more  than  three  nights, 
enjoying  but  such  momentary  repose  as  the  warder  of  a  sick 
monarch's  couch  might  by  snatches  indulge.  This  baron 
rarely  changed  his  posture,  except  to  administer  to  Eichard 
the  medicine  or  refreshments  which  none  of  his  less  favored 
attendants  could  persuade  the  impatient  monarch  to  take  ; 
and  there  was  something  affecting  in  the  kindly,  yet  awk- 
ward, manner  in  which  he  discharged  offices  so  strangely 
contrasted  with  his  blunt  and  soldierly  habits  and  manners. 

The  pavilion  in  which  these  personages  were  had,  as  be- 
came the  time,  as  well  as  the  personal  character  of  Eichard, 
more  of  a  warlike  than  a  sumptuous  or  royal  character. 
Weapons,  offensive  and  defensive,  several  of  them  of  strange 
and  newly-invented  construction,  were  scattered  about  the 
tented  apartment,  or  disposed  upon  the  pillars  which  sup- 
ported it.  Skins  of  animals  slain  in  the  chase  were  stretched 
on  the  ground,  or  extended  along  the  sides  of  the  pavilion, 
and,  upon  a  heap  of  these  silvan  spoils,  lay  three  alans,  as 
they  were  then  called  (wolf-greyhounds,  that  is),  of  the 
largest  size,  and  as  white  as  snow.  Their  faces,  marked 
with  many  a  scar  from  clutch  and  fang,  showed  their  share  in 
collecting  the  trophies  upon  which  they  reposed,  and  their 
eyes,  fixed  from  time  to  time  with  an  expressive  stretch  and 
yawn  upon  the  bed  of  Eichard,  evinced  how  much  they  mar- 
veled ab  and  regretted  the  unwonted  inactivity  which  they 
were  compelled  to  share.  These  were  but  the  accompani- 
ments of  the  soldier  and  huntsman  ;  but,  on  a  small  table 
olose  by  the  bed,  was  placed  a  shield  of  wrought  steel,  of 
triangular  form,  bearing  the  three  lions  passant,  first  as- 
sumed by  the  chivalrous  monarch,  and  before  it  the  golden 
circlet,  resembling  much  a  ducal  coronet,  only  that  it  was 
higher  in  front  than  behind,  which,  with  the  purple  velvet 
and  embroidered  tiara  that  lined  it,  formed  then  the  emblem 
of  England's  sovereignty.  Beside  it,  as  if  prompt  for  de- 
fending the  regal  symbol,  lay  a  mighty  curtal  ax,  which 
would  have  wearied  the  arm  of  any  other  than  Coeur-de- 
Lion. 

In  an  outer  partition  of  the  pavilion  waited  two  or  three 


64  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL  8 

officers  of  the  royal  household   depressed,  anxious  for  the"; 
master's  health,  aud  not  less  so  for  their  own  safety,  in  cai" 
of  his  decease.     Their  gloomy  ai^prehensions   spread  tiien 
selves  to  the  warders  without,  who  paced  about  in  downca 
and  silent  contemplation,  or,  resting  on  their  halberds,  sto( 
motionless  on  their  post,  rather  like  armed   tropliies  thj,„ 
living  warriors. 

"  So  thou  hast  no  better  news  to  bring  me  from  withot 
Sir  Thomas  ?  "  said  tlie  King,  after  a  long  and  perturb 
silence,  spent  in  the  feverish  agitation  wdiich  we  have  e 
deavored  to  describe.  *'  All  our  knights  turned  women 
our  ladies  become  devotees,  and  neither  a  spark  of  valor  r 
of  gallantry  to  enlighten  a  camp  which  contains  the  choicf 
of  Europe's  chivalry — ha  ! " 

"  The  truce,  my  lord,"  said  De  Vaux,  with  the  same  ] 
tience  with  which  lie  had  twenty  times  repeated  the  explai  |;' 
tion — "the  truce  prevents  us  bearing  ourselves  as  men  ' 
action  ;  and,  for  the  ladies,  I  am  no  great  reveler,  as  is  m 
known  to  your  Majesty,  and  seldom  exchange  steel  and  b 
for  velvet  and  gold,  but  thus  far  I  know,  that  our  choic 
beauties  are  waiting  upon  the  Queen's  Majesty  and  the  P: 
cess  to  a  pilgrimage  to  the  convent  of  Engaddi,  to  ace 
plish  their  vows  for  your  Highness's  deliverance  from  1j 
trouble." 

"  And  is  it  thus,"  said  Richard,  with  the  impatienc 
indisposition,  "  that  royal  matrons  and  maidens  sliould 
themselves,  where  the  dogs  wlio  defile  the  land  have  as  1 
truth  to  man  as  they  have  faith  towards  God  ?  " 

"  Nay,   my  lord,"  said  De  Vaux,   "  they  have  Sal 
word  for  their  safety." 

"  True — true  I  "  replied  Eichard,  "  and  I  did  the  hea 
soldan  injustice  ;  I  owe  him  reparation  for  it.     Would 
I  were  but  fit  to  offer  it  him  upon  my  body  between  tl 
hosts,  Christendom  and  Heathenesse  both  looking  on  ! 

As  Eichard  spoke,  he  thrust  his  right  arm   out  of 
naked  to  the  shoulder,  and,  painfully  raising  himself  je—^ 
couch,  shook  his  clenched  hand,  as  if  it  grasped  sworPr;'' 
battle-ax,  and  was  then  brandished    over  the  jeweled 
ban  of  the  soldan.     It  was  not  wdthout  a  gentle  degrtSof;- 
violence,  which  the  King  would  scarce  have  endured  Jfitt'' 
another,  that  De  Vaux,  in  his  character  of  sick-nurse,  c 
palled  his  royal  master  to  replace  himself  in  the  couch, fcd 
covered  his  sinewy  arm,  neck,  and  shoulders  with  the  a« 
which  a  mother  bestows  upon  an  impatient  child. 

**  Thou  art  a  rough  nurse,  though  a  willing  one,  De  Vax 


THE  TALISMAN 


!d  the  King,  laughing  with  a  bitter  expression,  while  he 
_3mitted  to  the  strength  which  he  was  unable  to  resist  ; 
<;nethiuks  a  coif  would  become  thy  lowering  features  as 
y\\  as  a  child's  biggin  would  beseem  mine.  We  should  be 
sxibe  and  nurse  to  frighten  girls  with  !" 
••  We  have  frightened  men  in  our  time,  ray  liege,"  said 
h  \':iiix  ;  "'and,  I  trust,  may  live  to  frighten  them  again. 
Mial  is  a  fever-fit,  that  we  should  not  endure  it  patiently, 
order  to  get  rid  of  it  easily  ?  " 

'Fever-fit!"    exclaimed    Richard,  impetuously;    "thou 

lyst  think,  and  justly,  that  it  is  a  fever-fit  with  me  ;  but 

lat  is  it  with  all  the  other  Christian  princes — with  Philip 

France,  with  that  dull  Austrian,  Avith  him  of  Montsernit, 

th  the  Hospitallers,  with  the  Templars — what  is  it  with 

i  them  ?     I  will  tell  thee  :  it  is  a  cold  palsy — a  dead  lethargy 

a  disease  that  deprives  them  of  speech  and  action — a  canker 

at  has  eaten  into  the  heart  of  all  that  is  noble,  andchival- 

us,  and  virtuous  among  them — that  has  made  them  false 

the  noblest  vow  ever  knights  were  sworn  to — has  made 

em  indifferent  to  their  fame,  and  forgetful  of  their  God  \" 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  my  liege,"  said  De  Vaux,  "take 

less  violently  !     You  will  be  heard  without  doors,  where 

ch  speeches  are  but  too  current  already  among  the  common 

kliery,  and  engender  discord  and  contention  in  the  Chris- 

,in  host.     Bethink  you  that  your  illness  mars  the  mainspring 

!!  their  enterprise  :  a  mangonel  will  work  without  screw 

';id   lever   better   than   the    Christian   host   without   King 

ijichard." 

"  Thou  flatterest  me,  De  Vaux,"  said  Richard  ;  and,  not 

.sensible  to  the  power  of  praise,  he  reclined  his  head  on  the 

iillow  with  a  more  deliberate  attempt  to  repose  than  he  had 

bt  exhibited.     But  Thomas  de  Vaux  was  no  courtier  :  the 

'|!n-ase  which  had  offered  had  risen  spontaneously  to  his  lips, 

'id  he  knew  not  how  to  pursue  the  pleasing  theme,  so  as  to 

pothe  and  prolong  the  vein  which  he  had  excited.     He  was 

Ijlent,  therefore,  until,  relapsing  into  his  moody  contempla- 

jons,  the  King  demanded  of  him  sharply,   "Despardieux  J 

'his  is  smoothly  said  to  soothe  a  sick  man  !     But  does  a 

J  '.ague  of  monarchs,  an  assemlilage  of  nobles,  a  convocation 

f  all  the  chivalry  of  Europe  droop  with  the  sickness  of  one 

^n,  though  he  chances  to  be  King  of  England  ?     Why 

jliould  Richard's  illness,  or  Richard's  death,  check  the  march 

f  thirty  thousand  men  as  brave  as  himself  ?     When  the 

jiaster  stag  is  struck  down  the  lierd  do  not  disperse  upon  his 

"ill ;  when  the  falcon  strikes  the  leading  crane,  another  takea 

5 


66  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

the  guidance  of  the  phalanx.  Why  do  not  the  powers  assem- 
ble  and  choose  some  one  to  whom  they  may  entrust  the 
guidance  of  the  host  ?  " 

"  Forsooth,  and  if  it  please  your  Majesty,"  said  DeVanx, 
"  I  hear  consultations  have  been  held  among  the  royal  leaders 
for  some  such  purpose." 

"  Ha  !"  exclaimed  Richard,  his  jealousy  awakened,  giving 
his  mental  irritation  another  direction.  "  Am  I  forgot  by 
my  allies  ere  I  have  taken  the  last  sacrament  ?  Do  they 
hold  me  dead  already  ?  But  no — no,  they  are  right.  And 
whom  do  they  select  as  leader  of  the  Christian  host  ?" 

"  Rank  and  dignity,"  said  the  Vaux,  "  point  to  the  King 
of  France." 

''  Oh,  ay,"  answered  the  English  monarch,  "  Philip  of 
France  and  Navarre — Denis  Mount joie — his  Most  Christian 
Majesty — mouth-filling  words  these  !  There  is  but  one  risk, 
that  he  might  mistake  the  words  En  arriere  for  F71  avant, 
and  lead  us  back  to  Paris  instead  of  marching  to  Jerusalem. 
His  politic  head  has  learned  by  this  time  that  there  is  more 
to  be  gotten  by  oppressing  his  feudatories  and  pillaging  his 
allies  than  fighting  with  the  Turks  for  the  Holy  Sepulchre." 

"They  might  choose  the  Archduke  of  Austria,"  said  De 
Vaux. 

"  What !  because  he  is  big  and  burly  like  thyself.  Thomas 
— nearly  as  thick-headed,  but  without  thy  indifference  to 
danger  and  carelessness  of  offense  ?  I  tell  thee  that  Austria 
has  in  all  that  mass  of  flesh  no  bolder  animation  than  is 
afforded  by  the  peevishness  of  a  wasp  and  the  courage  of  a 
wren.  Out  upon  him  !  he  a  leader  of  chivalry  to  deeds  of 
glory  !  Give  him  a  flagon  of  Rhenish  to  drink  with  his 
besmirched  baarenhauters  and  lanceknechts." 

"  There  is  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Templars,"  continued 
the  baron,  not  sorry  to  keep  his  master's  attention  engaged 
on  other  topics  than  his  own  illness,  though  at  the  expense  of 
the  characters  of  prince  and  potentate — "  there  is  the  Grand 
Master  of  the  Templars,"  he  continued,  "  undaunted,  skilful, 
brave  in  battle,  and  sage  in  council,  having  no  separate 
kingdoms  of  his  own  to  divert  his  exertions  from  the  re- 
covery of  the  Holy  Land — what  thinks  your  Majesty  of  the 
Master  as  a  general  leader  of  the  Christian  host  ?  " 

"Ha,  Beau-Seant!"  answered  the  King.  "Oh,  no  ex- 
ception can  be  taken  to  Brother  Giles  Amaury  :  he  under- 
stands the  ordering  of  a  battle,  and  the  fighting  in  front 
when  it  begins.  But,  Sir  Thomas,  were  it  fair  to  take  the 
Holy  Land  from  the  heathen  Saladiu,  so  full  of  all  the  vir- 


THE  TALISMAN  67 

tues  which  may  distinguish  unchristened  man,  and  give  it 
to  Giles  Amaury,  a  worse  pagan  than  liimself,  an  idolater,  a 
devil-worshiper,  a  necromancer,  who  practises  crimes  the 
most  dark  and  unnatural,  in  the  vaults  and  secret  places  of 
abomination  and  darkness  ?  " 

"  The  Grand  Master  of  the  Hospitallers  of  St.  John  of 
Jerusalem  is  not  tainted  by  fame  either  with  heresy  or 
magic,''  said  Thomas  de  Vaux. 

"•  But  is  he  not  a  sordid  miser  ?"  said  Richard,  hastily — 
"  has  he  not  been  suspected — ay,  more  than  suspected — of 
selling  to  the  infidels  those  advantages  which  they  would 
never  have  won  by  fair  force  ?  Tush,  man,  better  give  the 
army  to  be  made  merchandise  of  by  Venetian  skippers  aud 
Lombardy  peddlers  than  trust  it  to  the  Grand  Master  of  St. 
John." 

"Well,  then,  I  will  venture  but  another  guess,''  said  the 
Baron  de  Vaux.  "  What  say  you  to  the  gallant  Marquis  of 
Montserrat,  so  wise,  so  elegant,  such  a  good  man-at-arras  ?'"■' 

"  Wise  !  cunning,  you  would  say,"  replied  Richard  ;  "  ele- 
gant in  a  lady's  chamber,  if  you  will.  Oh,  ay,  Conrade  of 
Montserrat — who  knows  not  the  popinjay  ?  Politic  and 
versatile,  he  will  change  you  his  purposes  as  often  as  the 
trimmings  of  his  doublet,  and  you  shall  never  be  able  to 
guess  the  hue  of  his  inmost  vestments  from  tlieir  outward 
colors.  A  man-at-arms  !  ay,  a  fine  figure  on  horseback,  and 
can  bear  him  well  in  the  tilt-yard  and  at  the  barriers,  when 
swords  are  blunted  at  point  and  edge,  and  spears  are  tipped 
with  trenchers  of  wood  instead  of  steel  pikes.  Wert  thou 
not  with  me  when  I  said  to  that  same  gay  marquis,  "  Here 
we  be,  three  good  Christians,  and  on  yonder  plain  there 
pricks  a  band  of  some  threescore  Saracens,  what  say  you  to 
charge  them  briskly  ?  There  are  but  twenty  unbelieving 
miscreants  to  each  true  knight." 

"I  recollect  the  marquis  replied,"  said  De  Vaux,  ^Hhat 
'  Ilis  limbs  were  of  flesh,  not  of  iron,  and  that  he  would 
rather  bear  the  heart  of  a  man  than  of  a  beast,  though  tliat 
beast  were  the  lion.'  But  I  see  how  it  is  :  we  shall  end 
where  we  began,  without  hope  of  praying  at  the  Sepulcher, 
until  Heaven  shall  restore  King  Richard  to  health." 

At  this  grave  remark,  Richard  burst  out  into  a  hearty  fit 
of  laughter,  the  first  which  he  had  for  some  time  indulged 
in.  "Why,  what  a  thing  is  conscience,"  ho  said,  "that 
through  its  means  even  such  a  thick-witted  northern  lord  as 
thou  canst  bring  thy  sovereign  to  confess  his  folly  I  It  is 
true  that,  did  they  not  propose  them.seWes  as  fit  to  hold  p^^ 


68  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

leading-staff,  little  should  I  care  for  plucking  the  silken 
trappings  off  the  puppets  thou  hast  shown  me  in  succession. 
What  concerns  it  me  what  fine  tinsel  robes  they  swagger  in, 
unless  when  they  are  named  as  rivals  in  the  glorious  enter- 
prise to  which  I  have  vowed  myself  ?  Yes,  De  Vaux,  I  con- 
fess my  weakness,  and  the  wilfulness  of  my  ambition.  The 
Christian  camp  contains,  doubtless,  many  a  better  knight 
than  Richard  of  England,  and  it  would  be  wise  and  worthy 
to  assign  to  the  best  of  them  the  leading  of  the  host  ;  but," 
continued  the  warlike  monarch,  raising  himself  in  his  bed, 
and  shaking  the  cover  from  his  head,  while  iiis  eyes  sparkled 
as  they  were  wont  to  do  on  the  eve  of  battle,  "  were  such  a 
knight  to  plant  the  banner  of  the  ('ross  on  the  Temple  of 
Jerusalem,  while  I  was  unable  to  bear  my  share  in  the  noble 
task,  he  should,  so  soon  as  1  was  fit  to  lay  lance  in  rest,  un- 
dergo my  challenge  to  mortal  combat,  for  having  diminished 
my  fame,  and  pressed  in  before  to  the  object  of  my  enter- 
prise.    But  hark,  what  trumpets  are  those  at  a  distance  ?" 

"Those  of  King  Philip,  as  I  guess,  my  liege/'  said  the 
stout  Englishman. 

"  Thou  art  dull  of  ear,  Thomas,'*  said  the  King,  endeavor- 
ing to  start  up,  "hearest  thou  not  that  clash  and  clang  ? 
By  Heaven,  the  Turks  are  in  the  camp.  I  hear  their 
lelies." 

He  again  endeavored  to  get  out  of  bed,  and  De  Vaux  was 
obliged  to  exercise  his  own  great  strength,  and  also  to  sum- 
mon the  assistance  of  the  chamberlains  from  the  inner  tent, 
to  restrain  him. 

"  Thou  art  a  false  traitor,  De  Vaux,"  said  the  incensed 
monarch,  when,  breathless  and  exhausted  with  struggling, 
he  was  compelled  to  submit  to  superior  strength,  and  to  re- 
pose in  quiet  on  his  couch.  "I  would  I  were — I  would  I 
were  but  strong  enough  to  dash  thy  brains  out  with  my 
battle-ax  !" 

"  I  would  you  had  the  strength,  my  liege,"  said  De  Vaux,  11 
*'and  would  even  take  the  risk  of  its  being  so  employed.' 
The  odds  would  be  great  in  favor  of  Christendom,  were: 
Thomas  Multon  dead  and  Coeur-de-Lion  himself  again."        | 

''Mine  honest,  faithful  servant,"  said  Richard,  extendingi 
his  hand,  which  the  baron  reverentially  saluted,  ''  forgive! 
thy  master's  impatience  of  mood.  It  is  this  burning  feveri 
which  chides  thee,  and  not  thy  kind  master,  Richard  ofi 
England.  But  go,  I  prithee,  and  bring  me  word  what 
strangers  are  in  the  camp,  for  these  sound  sare  not  of  Christen«| 
dom."  » 


I 


THE  TALISMAN  66 

De  Vaux  left  the  pavilion  on  the  errand  assigned,  and  in 
his  absence,  which  he  had  resolved  should  be  brief,  he 
charged  the  chamberlains,  pages,  and  attendants  to  redouble 
their  attention  on  their  sovereign,  with  threats  of  holding 
them  to  responsibility,  which  rather  added  to  than  dimin- 
ished their  timid  anxiety  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty  ;  for 
next  perhaps  to  the  ire  of  the  monarch  himself,  they 
dreaded  that  of  the  stern  and  inexorable  Lord  of  Gilsland.* 

*dee  Note  5. 


CHAPTER  Vn 

There  never  was  a  time  on  the  march  parts  yet 

When  Scottish  with  Englisli  met, 
But  it  was  marvel  if  the  red  blood  ran  not 

As  the  rain  does  in  the  street. 

Battle  of  Otterhoiim. 

A  CONSIDEEABLE  band  of  Scottish  warriors  had  joined  tlie 
Crusaders,  and  had  naturally  placed  themselves  under  the 
command  of  the  English  monarch,  being,  like  his  native 
troops,  most  of  them  of  Saxon  and  Norman  descent,  sjjeak- 
ing  the  same  languages,  possessed,  some  of  them,  of  English 
as  well  as  Scottish  deuaesnes,  and  allied,  in  some  cases,  by 
blood  and  intermarriage.  The  period  also  preceded  that 
when  the  grasping  ambition  of  Edward  I.  gave  a  deadly  and 
envenomed  character  to  the  tvai's  betwixt  the  two  nations  ; 
the  English  fighting  for  the  subjugation  of  Scotland,  and  the 
Scottish,  with  all  the  stern  determination  and  obstinacy 
which  has  ever  characterized  their  nation,  for  the  defense  of 
their  independence,  by  the  most  violent  means,  under  the 
most  disadvantageous  circumstances,  and  at  the  most  ex-, 
treme  hazard.  As  yet,  wars  betwixt  the  two  nations,  though 
fierce  and  frequent,  had  been  conducted  on  principles  of  fair 
hostility,  and  admitted  of  those  softening  shades  by  which 
courtesy,  and  the  respect  for  open  and  generous  foemen, 
qualify  and  mitigate  the  horrors  of  war.  In  time  of  peace, 
therefore,  and  especially  when  both,  as  at  present,  were  en- 
gaged in  war,  waged  in  behalf  of  a  common  cause,  and 
rendered  dear  to  them  by  their  ideas  of  religion,  the  ad- 
venturers of  both  countries  frequently  fought  side  by  side, 
their  national  emulation  serving  only  to  stimulate  them  to 
excel  each  other  in  their  efforts  against  the  common  enemy. 
The  frank  and  martial  character  of  Richard,  who  made 
no  distinction  betwixt  his  own  subjects  and  those  of  William  , 
of  Scotland,  excepting  as  they  bore  themselves  in  the  field  i 
of  battle,  tended  much  to  conciliate  the  troops  of  both 
nations.  But  upon  his  illness,  and  tlie  disadvantageous  cir- 1  _^ 
cumstances  in  which  the  Crusaders  were  placed,  the  national  !{|iIq{ 
disunion  between  the  various  bands  united  in  the  Crusadf  ' 
70 


THE  TALISMAI^  71 

began  to  display  itself,  just  as  old  wounds  break  out  afresh 
in  the  human  body  when  under  the  influence  of  disease  or 
debility. 

The  Scottish  and  English,  equally  jealous  and  high-spir- 
ited, and  apt  to  take  offense — the  former  tiie  more  so,  be- 
cause the  poorer  and  the  weaker  nation — began  to  fill  up, 
by  internal  dissension,  the  period  when  the  truce  forbade 
them  to  wreak  their  united  vengeance  on  the  Saracens. 
Like  the  contending  Eonian  chiefs  of  old,  the  Scottish  would 
admit  no  superiority,  and  their  southern  neighbors  would 
brook  no  equality.  There  were  charges  and  recriminations, 
and  both  the  common  soldiery  and  their  leaders  and  com- 
manders, who  had  been  good  comrades  in  time  of  victory, 
lowered  on  each  other  in  the  period  of  adversity,  as  if  their 
union  had  not  been  then  more  essential  than  ever,  not  only 
to  the  success  of  their  common  cause,  but  to  their  joint 
safety.  The  same  disunion  had  begun  to  show  itself  betwixt 
the  French  and  English,  the  Italians  and  the  Germans,  and 
even  between  the  Danes  and  Swedes  ;  but_  it  is  only  that 
which  divided  the  two  nations  whom  one  island  bred,  and 
who  seemed  more  animated  against  each  other  for  the 
very  reason,  that  our  narrative  is  principally  concerned 
with. 

Of  all  the  English  nobles  who  had  followed  their  king  to 
Palestine,  De  Vaux  was  most  prejudiced  against  the  Scot- 
tish ;  they  were  his  near  neighbors,  with  whom  he  had  been 
engaged  during  his  whole  life  in  private  or_  public  warfare, 
and  on  whom  he  had  inflicted  many  calamities,  while  he  had 
sustained  at  their  hands  not  a  few.  His  love  and  devotion 
to  the  King  was  like  the  vivid  affection  of  the  old  English 
mastiff  to  his  master,  leaving  him  churlish  and  inaccessible 
to  all  others,  even  towards  those  to  whom  he  was  indifferent, 
and  rough  and  dangerous  to  any  against  whom  he  enter- 
tained a  prejudice.  De  Vaux  had  never  observed,  without 
jealousy  and  displeasure,  his  King  exhibit  any  mark  of 
courtesy  or  favor  to  the  wicked,  deceitful,  and  ferocious 
race,  born  on  the  other  side  of  a  river,  or  an  imaginary  line 
drawn  through  waste  and  wilderness,  and  he  even  doubted 
the  success  of  a  Crusade  in  which  they  were  suffered  to  bear 
arms,  holding  them  in  his  secret  soul  little  better  than  the 
Saracens,  whom  he  came  to  combat.  It  may  be  added  that, 
as  being  himself  a  blunt  and  downright  Englishman,  unac- 
customed to  conceal  the  slightest  movement  either  of  love 
or  of  dislike,  he  accounted  the  fair-spoken  courtesy  which 
the  Scots  had  learned,  either  from  imitation  of  their  frequent 


72  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

allies,  the  French,  or  which  might  have  arisen  from  theii 

own  proud  and  restrved  character,  as*  a  false  and  astncioua 
mark  of  the  most  dangerous  designs  against  their  neighbors, 
over  whom  he  believed,  with  genuine  English  confidence, 
they  could,  by  fair  manhood,  never  obtain  any  advantage. 

Yet,  though  De  Vaux  entertained  these  sentiments  con- 
cerning his  northern  neighbors,  and  extended  them,  with 
little  mitigation,  even  to  such  as  had  assumed  the  cross,  his 
respect  for  the  King,  and  a  sense  of  the  duty  imposed  by  his 
vow  as  a  Crusader,  prevented  him  from  displayiug  them 
otherwise  than  by  regularly  shnnning  all  intercourse  with 
his  Scottish  brethren-at-arms,  as  far  as  possible,  by  observ- 
ing a  sullen  taciturnity  when  compelled  to  meet  them 
occasionally,  and  by  looking  scornfully  upon  them  when 
they  encountered  on  the  march  and  in  camp.  The  Scottish 
barons  and  knights  were  not  men  to  bear  his  scorn  unob- 
served or  unreplied  to  ;  and  it  came  to  that  pass,  that  he 
was  regarded  as  the  determined  and  active  enemy  of  a  nation 
whom,  after  all,  he  only  disliked,  and  in  some  sort  despised. 
Nay,  it  was  remarked  by  close  observers  that,  if  he  had  not 
towards  tliem  the  charity  of  Scripture,  which  suffereth  long 
and  Judges  kindly,  he  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  the  sub- 
ordinate and  limited  virtue  which  alleviates  and  relieves  the 
wants  of  others.  The  wealth  of  Thomas  of  Gilsland  pro- 
cured supplies  of  provisions  and  medicines,  and  some  of 
these  usually  flowed  by  secret  channels  into  the  quarters  of 
the  Scottish  ;  his  surly  benevolence  proceeding  on  the  prin- 
ciple that,  next  to  a  man's  friend,  his  foe  was  of  most  im- 
portance to  him,  passing  over  all  the  intermediate  relations, 
as  too  indifferent  to  merit  even  a  thought.  This  explanation 
is  necessary,  in  order  that  the  reader  may  fully  understand 
what  we  are  now  to  detail. 

Thomas  de  Vaux  had  not  made  many  steps  beyond  the 
entrance  of  the  royal  pavilion,  when  he  was  aware  of  what 
the  far  more  acute  ear  of  tl)e  English  monarch,  no  mean 
proficient  in  the  art  of  minstrelsy,  had  instantly  discovered, 
that  the  musical  strains,  namely,  which  had  reached  their 
ears,  were  produced  by  the  pipes,  shalms,  and  kettledrums 
of  the  Saracens  ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  an  avenue  of  tents, 
which  formed  a  broad  access  to  the  pavilion  of  Eichard,  he 
could  see  a  crowd  of  idle  soldiers  assembled  around  the  spot 
from  which  the  music  was  heard,  almost  in  the  center  of  the 
camp  ;  and  he  saw,  with  great  surprise,  mingled  amid  the 
helmets  of  various  forms  worn  by  the  Crusaders  of  different 
nations,   white  turbans  and    long  pikes,   announcing  the 


THE  TALISMAN  73 

presence  of  armed  Saracens,  and  the  huge  deformed  headr 
of  several  camels  or  dromedaries,  overlooking  the  multitude 
by  aid  of  their  long,  disproportioned  necks. 

Wondering  and  displeased  at  a  sight  so  unexpected  and 
singular — for  it  was  customary  to  leave  all  flags  of  truce  and 
other  communications  from  the  enemy  at  an  aj^pointed  place 
without  the  barriers — the  baron  looked  eagerly  round  for 
some  one  of  whom  he  might  inquire  the  cause  of  this  alarm 
ing  novelty. 

The  first  person  whom  he  met  advancing  to  him,  he  set 
down  at  once,  by  his  grave  and  haughty  step,  as  a  Spaniard 
or  a  Scot ;  and  presently  after  muttered  to  himself — ''And 
a  Scot  it  is — he  of  the  Leopard.  I  have  seen  him  fij^'ht  in- 
differently well,  for  one  of  his  country." 

Loth  to  ask  even  a  passing  question,  he  was  about  to  pass 
Sir  Kenneth,  with  that  sullen  and  lowering  port  which  seems 
to  say,  "  1  know  thee,  but  1  will  hold  no  communication  with 
thee  "  ;  but  his  purpose  was  defeated  by  the  Northern  knight, 
who  moved  forward  directly  to  him,  and  accosting  him  witli 
formal  courtesy,  said,  "  My  Lord  de  Vaux  of  Gilsland,  I 
have  in  charge  to  speak  with  you.'' 

"Ha!'*  returned  the  English  baron,  'Mvith  me?  But 
say  your  pleasure,  so  it  be  shortly  spoken  ;  1  am  on  the  King's 
errand." 

"  Mine  touches  King  Richard  yet  more  nearly,"  answered 
Sir  Kenneth  ;  "  I  bring  him,  I  trust,  health." 

The  Lord  of  Gilsland  measured  the  Scot  with  incredulous 
eyes,  and  replied,  "  Thou  art  no  leech,  I  think,  sir  Scot ; 
I  had  as  soon  thought  of  your  bringing  the  King  of  Eng- 
land wealth." 

Sir  Kenneth,  though  displeased  with  the  manner  of  the 
baron's  reply,  answered  calmly — "  Health  to  Richard  is  glory 
and  wealth  to  Christendom.  But  my  time  presses ;  I  pray 
you,  may  1  see  the  King  ?" 

"  Surely  not,  fair  sir,"  said  the  baron,  "  until  your  errand 
be  told  more  distinctly.  The  sick-chambers  of  princes  open 
not  to  all  who  inquire,  like  a  Northern  hostelry." 

''My  lord,"  said  Kenneth,  "the  cross  which  I  wear  in 
common  with  yourself,  and  the  importance  of  what  I  have 
to  tell,  must,  for  the  present,  cause  me  to  pass  over  a  bear- 
ing which  else  I  were  unapt  to  endure.  In  plain  language, 
then,  I  bring  with  me  a  Moorish  physician,  who  undertakag 
to  work  a  cure  on  King  Richard." 

"  A  Moorish  physician  I"  said  De  Vaux  ;  "and  who  wil] 
warrant  that  he  brings  not  poisons  instead  of  remedies  ?  " 


U  IV A  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL  S 

''His  own  life,  my  lord — his  head,  which  he  offers  as  a 
guarantee." 

"I  have  known  many  a  resolute  ruffian/'  said  De  Vaux, 
"  who  valued  his  own  life  as  little  as  it  deserved,  and  would 
troop  to  the  gallows  as  merrily  as  if  the  hangman  were  his 
partner  in  a  dance/' 

"  But  thus  it  is,  my  lord,"  replied  the  Scot  :  "  Saladin, 
to  whom  none  will  deny  the  credit  of  a  generous  and  valiant 
enemy,  hath  sent  this  leecli  hither  with  an  honorable  retinue 
and  guard,  befitting  the  high  estimation  in  which  El  Hakim 
is  held  by  the  Soldan,  and  with  fruits  and  refreshments  for 
the  King's  private  chamber,  and  such  message  as  may  pass 
betwixt  honorable  enemies,  praying  him  to  be  recovered  of 
his  fever,  that  he  may  be  the  fitter  to  receive  a  visit  from 
the  Soldan,  with  his  naked  scimitar  in  his  hand,  and  an 
hundred  thousand  cavaliers  at  his  back.  Will  it  please  you, 
who  are  of  the  King's  secret  council,  to  cause  these  camels 
to  be  discharged  of  their  burdens,  and  some  order  taken  a& 
to  the  reception  of  the  learned  physician  ?  " 

''Wonderful!"  said  De  Vaux,  as  speaking  to  himself, 
"And  who  will  vouch  for  the  honor  of  Saladin,  in  a  case 
when  bad  faith  would  rid  him  at  once  of  his  most  powerful 
adversary  ?  " 

"  I  myself,"  replied  Sir  Kenneth,  "  will  be  his  guarantee, 
with  honor,  life,  and  fortune." 

"Strange!"  again  ejaculated  De  Vaux:  "the  North 
vouches  for  the  South — the  Scot  for  the  Turk  !  May  I 
crave  of  you,  sir  knight,  how  you  became  concerned  in  this 
affair?" 

"I  have  been  absent  on  a  pilgrimage,  in  the  course  of 
which,"  replied  Sir  Kenneth,  "I  had  a  message  to  dis- 
charge towards  the  holy  hermit  of  Engaddi." 

"  May  I  not  be  entrusted  with  it,  Sir  Kenneth,  and  with 
the  answer  of  the  holy  man  ?  " 

"  It  may  not  be,  my  lord,"  answered  the  Scot. 

"  I  am  of  the  secret  council  of  England,"  said  the  Eng- 
lishman, haughtily. 

"  To  which  land  I  owe  no  allegiance,"  said  Kenneth. 
"  Though  I  have  voluntarily  followed  in  this  war  the  per- 
sonal fortunes  of  England's  sovereign,  I  was  desj^atched  by  the 
general  council  of  the  kings,  princes,  and  supreme  leaders 
of  the  army  of  the  Blessed  Cross,  and  to  them  only  I  render 
my  errand." 

"  Ha  !  say'st  thou  ? "  said  the  proud  Baron  de  Vaux. 
"  But  know,  messenger  of  the  kings  and  princes  as  thou 


THE  TALISMAN  75 

mayst  be,  no  leech  shall  approach  the  sick-bed  of  Richard 
of  England  without  the  'consent  of  him  of  Gilsland  ;  and 
they  will  come  on  evil  errand  who  dare  to  intrude  them- 
selves against  it.'* 

He  was  turning  loftily  away,  when  the  Scot,  placing 
himself  closer,  and  more  opposite  to  him,  asked,  in  a  calm 
voice,  yet  not  without  expressing  his  share  of  j^ride,  whether 
the  Lord  of  Gilsland  esteemed  him  a  gentleman  and  a  good 
knight. 

"  All  Scots  are  ennobled  by  their  birthright, ''  answered 
Thomas  de  Vaux,  something  ironically  ;  but,  sensible  of  his 
own  injustice,  and  perceiving  that  Kenneth's  color  rose,  he 
added,  "For  a  good  knight  it  were  sin  to  doubt  you,  ni  one 
at  least  who  has  seen  you  well  and  bravely  discharge  your 
devoir." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  Scottish  knight,  satisfied  with  the 
frankness  of  the  last  admission,  "  and  let  me  swear  to  you, 
Thomas  of  Gilsland,  that  as  I  am  true  Scottish  man,  which 
I  hold  a  privilege  equal  to  my  ancient  gentry,  and  as  sure 
as  I  am  a  belted  knight,  and  come  hither  to  acquire  los  and 
fame  in  this  mortal  life,  and  forgiveness  of  my  sins  in  that 
which  is  to  come,  so  truly,  and  by  the  blessed  cross  which  I 
wear,  do  I  protest  unto  you,  that  I  desire  but  the  safety  of 
Richard  Coeur-de-Jdon,  in  recommending  the  ministry  of 
this  Moslem  physician." 

The  Englishman  was  struck  with  the  solemnity  of  the 
obtestation,  and  answered  with  more  cordiality  than  he  had 
yet  exhibited,  "  Tell  me.  Sir  Knight  of  the  Leopard,  granting 
— which  I  do  not  doubt — that  thou  art  thyself  satisfied  in 
this  matter,  shall  I  do  well,  in  a  land  where  the  art  of 
poisoning  is  as  general  as  that  of  cooking,  to  bring  this 
unknown  physician  to  practise  with  his  drugs  on  a  health 
so  valuable  to  Christendom  ?  " 

'' My  lord,"  replied  the  Scot,  ''thus  only  can  I  reply, 
that  my  squire,  the  only  one  of  my  retinue  whom  war  and 
disease  had  left  in  attendance  on  me,  has  been  of  late 
suffering  dangerously  under  this  same  fever,  which,  in  valiant 
King  Richard,  has  disabled  the  principal  limb  of  our  holy 
enterprise.  This  leecli,  this  El  Hakim,  hath  ministered 
remedies  to  him  not  two  hours  since,  and  already  he  hath 
fallen  into  a  refreshing  sleep.  That  he  can  cure  the  disorder, 
which  has  proved  so  fatal,  I  iiothing  doubt  ;  that  he  hath 
the  purpose  to  do  it  is,  I  think,  warranted  by  his  mission 
from  the  royal  Soldan,  who  is  true-hearted  and  loyal,  so  far 
as  a  blinded  infidel  may  be  called  so  ;  and,  for  his  eventual 


76  WAVERLEY  NOVELS  I 

success,  the  certainty  of  reward  in  case  of  succeeding,  and     '" 
punishment  in  case  of  vohmtary  failure,  may  be  a  sulScient 
guarantee." 

The  Englishman  listened  with  downcast  looks,  as  one  who    j|!"" 
doubted,  yet  was  not  unwilling  to  receive  conviction.     At     '""1 
length  he  looked  up  and  said,   "  May  I  see  your  sick  squire,     ;' 
fair  sir?"     ...  ^  ^  ,,5 

The  Scottish  knight  hesitated  and  colored,  yet  answered  at  '"^^ 
last,  "  Willingly,  my  Lord  of  Gilsland  ;  but  you  must  re- 
member, when  you  see  my  poor  quarter,  that  the  nobles  and 
knights  of  Scotland  feed  not  so  high,  sleep  not  so  soft,  and 
care  not  for  the  magnificence  of  lodgment  which  is  proper  to 
their  southern  neighbor^  ,  I  am  poorly  lodged,  my  Lord 
of  Gilsland,"  he  added,  with  a  haughty  emphasis  on  the 
word,  while,  with  some  unwillingness,  he  led  the  way  to  his 
temporary  place  of  abode. 

Whatever  were  the  prejudices  of  De  Vaux  against  the 
nation  of  his  new  acquaintance,  and  though  we  undertake 
not  to  deny  that  some  of  these  were  excited  by  its  proverbial 
poverty,  he  had  too  much  nobleness  of  disposition  to  enjoy 
the  mortification  of  a  brave  individual,  thus  compelled  to 
make  known  wants  which  his  pride  would  gladly  have  con-  ,. 
cealed. 

"■  Shame  to  the  soldier  of  the  Cross,"  he  said,  "  who  thinks 
of  worldly  splendor,  or  of  luxurious  accommodation,  when 
pressing  forward  to  the  conquest  of  the  Holy  City.  Fare  as 
hard  as  we  may,  we  shall  yet  be  better  than  the  host  of 
martyrs  and  of  saints,  who,  having  trod  these  scenes  before 
us,  now  hold  golden  lamps  and  evergreen  palms." 

This  was  the  most  metaphorical  speech  which  Thomas  of  '1™ 
Gilsland  was  ever  known  to  utter,  tbe  rather,  perhaps  (: 
will  sometimes  happen),  that  it  did  not  entirely  express  his  | 
own  sentiments,  being  somewhat  a  lover  of  good  cheer  and 
splendid  accommodation.  By  this  time  they  reached  the 
place  of  tbe  camp,  where  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard  had 
assumed  his  abode. 

Appearances  here  did  indeed  promise  no  breach  of  the  laws 
of  mortification,  to  which  the  Crusaders,  according  to  the 
opinion  expressed  by  him  of  Gilsland,  ought  to  subject  them- 
selves. A  space  of  ground,  large  enough  to  accommodate 
perhaps  thirty  tents,  according  to  the  Crusaders'  rules  of 
castrametation,  was  partly  vacant,  because,  in  ostentation,!  JNf^ 
the  knight  had  demanded  ground  to  the  extent  of  his 
original  retinue,  partly  occupied  by  a  few  miserable  huts, 
hastily  constructed  of  boughs  and  covered  with,  palm  leaves. 


iiC( 


al 
for 
iniislj 
bs 
tad, 
\h 
Jinst 


h 


I  THE  TALISMAN  77 

These  habitations  seemed  entirely  deserted,  and  several  of 
them  were  ruinous.  The  central  hut,  which  represented  the 
pavilion  of  the  leader,  was  distinguislied  by  his  swallow- 
tailed  pennon,  placed  on  the  point  of  a  spear,  from  which  its 
long  folds  dropt  motionless  to  the  ground,  as  if  sickening 
under  the  scorching  rays  of  the  Asiatic  sun.  But  no  pages 
or  squires,  not  even  a  solitary  warder,  was  placed  by  the 
emblem  of  feudal  power  and  knightly  degrees.  If  its  repu- 
tation defended  it  not  from  insult,  it  had  no  other  guard. 

Sir  Kenneth  cast  a  melancholy  look  around  him,  but,  sup- 
pressing liis  feelings,  entered  the  hut,  making  a  sign  to  the 
Baron  of  Gilsland  to  follow.  He  also  cast  around  a  glance  of 
examination,  which  implied  pity  not  altogether  unmingled 
with  contempt,  to  which,  perhaps,  it  is  as  nearly  akin  as  it 
is  said  to  be  to  love.  He  then  stooped  his  lofty  crest,  and 
entered  a  lowly  hut,  which  his  bulky  form  seemed  almost 
entirely  to  fill. 

The  interior  of  the  hut  was  chiefly  occupied  by  two  beds. 
One  was  empty,  but  composed  of  collected  leaves,  and  spread 
with  an  antelope's  hide.  It  seemed,  from  the  articles  of 
armor  laid  beside  it,  and  from  a  crucifix  of  silver,  carefully 
and  reverentially  disposed  at  the  head,  to  be  the  couch  of  the 
knight  himself.  The  other  contained  the  invalid,  of  whom 
Sir  "Kenneth  had  spoken — a  strong-built  and  harsh-featured 
man,  past,  as  his  looks  betokened,  the  middle  age  of  life. 
His  couch  was  trimmed  more  softly  than  his  master's,  audit 
,was  plain  that  the  more  courtly  garments  of  the  latter,  the 
loose  robe,  in  which  the  knights  showed  themselves  on  pa- 
:cific  occasions,  and  the  other  little  spare  articles  of  dress  and 
adornment,  had  been  applied  by  Sir  Kenneth  to  the  accom- 
modaticn  of  his  sick  domestic.  In  an  outward  part  of  the 
hut,  which  yet  was  within  the  range  of  the  English  baron's 
eye,  a  boy,  rudely  attired  with  buskins  of  deer's  hide,  a  blue 
cap  or  bo^nnet,  and  a  doublet,  whose  original  finery  was  much 
tarnished,  sat  on  his  knees  by  a  chafing-dish  filled  with 
charcoal  cooking,  upon  a  plate  of  iron  the  cakes  of  barley- 
bread  which  were  then,  and  still  are,  a  favorite  food  with 
the  Scottish  people.  Part  of  an  antelope  was  suspended 
against  one  of  the  main  props  of  the  hut,  nor  was  it  difficult 
to  knew  how  it  had  been  procured;  for  a  large  stag  grey- 
hound, nobler  in  size  and  appearance  than  those  even  which 
guarded  King  Eichard*s  sick-bed,  lay  eying  the  process  of 
baking  the  cake.  The  sagacious  animal,  on  their  first  en- 
trance, uttered  a  stifled  growl,  which  sounded  from  his  deep 
chest  like  distant  thunder.     But   he  saw  his  master,   and 


WAVER  LEY  NOVELS 


acknowledged  liis  presence  by  wagging  bis  tail  and  coucbing     ^^^ 
bis  bead,  abstaining  from  more  tumultuous  or  noisy  greeting, 
as  if   bis   noble  instinct  bad   taugbt  bim   tbe  propriety  of 
silence  in  a  sick  man's  cbamber. 

Beside  tbe  coucb,  sat  on  a  cusbion,  also  composed  of  skins, 
tbe  Moorish  pbysician  of  wbom  Sir  Kennetb  bad  spoken, 
cross-legged,  after  tbe  Eastern  fasbion.  Tbe  imperfect  light 
showed  little  of  bim,  save  that  the  lower  part  of  bis  face  jjft 
was  covered  with  a  long  black  beard,  which  descended  over 
his  breast ;  that  he  wore  a  high  tolpacli,  a  Tartar  cap  of  the 
lamb's-wool  manufactured  at  Astraean,  bearing  tbe  same 
dusky  color,  and  that  bis  ample  caftan,  or  Turkish  robe, 
was  also  of  a  dark  hue.  Two  piercing  eyes,  which  gleamed 
with  unusual  luster,  were  tbe  only  lineaments  of  his  visage 
that  could  be  discerned  amid  the  darkness  in  which  he  was 
enveloped.  Tbe  English  lord  stood  silent  with  a  sort  of 
reverential  awe  ;  for,  notwithstanding  tbe  roughness  of  his 
general  bearing,  a  scene  of  distress  and  poverty,  firmly  en- 
dured without  complaint  or  murmur,  would  at  any  time  have 
claimed  more  reverence  from  Thomas  de  Vaux  than  would  all 
tbe  splendid  formalities  of  a  royal  presence-chamber,  unless 
that  presence-chamber  were  King  Eicbard's  own.  Nothing 
was,  for  a  time,  heard  but  tbe  heavy  and  regular  breathings  Jj^jj 
of  the  invalid,  who  seemed  in  profound  repose. 

"  He  bath  not  slept  for  six  nights  before,^'  said  Sir  Ken- 
neth, "as  I  am  assured  by  tbe  youth,  bis  attendant. '^ 

''Noble  Scot,"  said  Thomas  de   Vaux,  grasping  the  Scot- 
tish knight's  band,  with  a  pressure  which  had  more  of  cordi- 
ality than  be  permitted  his  words  to  utter,  "  this   gear  m 
be  amended.     Your  esquire  is  but  too  evil  fed  and  looked 
to." 

In  the  latter  of  part  of  this  speech  he  naturally  raised  his 
voice  to  its  usual  decided  tone.  The  sick  man  was  dis 
turbed  in  bis  slumbers. 

"  My  master,"  he  said,  murmuring  as  in  a  dream — "  noble 
Sir  Kenneth,  taste  not,  to  you  as  to  me,  tbe  waters  of  the 
Clyde  cold  and  refreshing,  after  the  brackish  springs  of 
Palestine  ?  " 

"  He  dreams  of  bis  native  land,  and  is  happy  in  bis  slunv 
bers,"  whispered  Sir  Kennetb  to  De  Vaux  ;  but  bad  scarce 
uttered  the  words,  when  tbe  pbysician,  arising  from  the 
place  which  be  bad  taken  near  the  couch  of  tbe  sick,  and 
laying  tbe  hand  of  tbe  patient,  whose  pulse  be  had  been  care 
fully  watching,  quietly  upon  the  couch,  came  to  the  two 
knights,  and  taking  them  each  by   the  arm,  while  he  inti- 


iefl( 
Rtst: 
rajs 

ict; 


tpoi 

il-ci 
k 

I 


'       -  THE  TALISMAN  79 

mated  to  them  to  remain  silent,  led  them  to  the  front  of  the 
hut. 

"In  the  name  of  Issa  ben  Mariam/'  he  said,  "whom  we 
honor  as  you,  though  not  with  the  same  blinded  superstition, 
disturb  not  the  effect  of  the  blessed  medicine  of  which  he 
hath  partaken.  To  awaken  him  now  is  death  or  deprivation 
of  reason  ;  but  return  at  the  hour  when  the  muezzin  calls 
from  the  minaret  to  evening  prayer  in  the  mosque,  and,  if 
left  undisturbed  until  then,  I  promise  you,  this  same  Frank- 
ish  soldier  shall  be  able,  without  prejudice  to  his  health,^  to 
hold  some  brief  converse  with  you,  on  any  matters  on  which 
either,  and  especially  his  master,  may  have  to  question  him/' 

The  knights  retreated  before  the  authoritative  commands 
of  the  leech,  who  seemed  fully  to  comprehend  the  impor- 
tance of  the  Eastern  proverb,  that  "  the  sick-chamber  of  the 
patient  is  the  kingdom  of  the  physician/' 

They  paused,  and  remained  standing  together  at  the  door 
of  the  hut.  Sir  Kenneth  with  the  air  of  one  who  expected 
his  visitor  to  say  farewell,  and  De  Vaux  as  if  he  had  some- 
thing on  his  mind  which  prevented  him  from  doing  so.  The 
hound,  however,  had  pressed  out  of  the  tent  after  them,  and 
now  thrust  his  long  rough  countenance  into  the  hand  of  his 
master,  as  if  modestly  soliciting  some  mark  of  his  kindness. 
'  He  had  no  sooner  received  the  notice  which  he  desired,  in 
the  shape  of  a  kind  word  and  slight  caress,  than,  eager  to 
acknowledge  his  gratitude  and  joy  for  his  master's  return, 
he  flew  off  at  full  "speed,  galloping  in  full  career,  and  with 
outstretched  tail,  here  and  there,  about  and  around,  cross- 
ways  and  en  along,  through  the  decayed  huts  and  the  espla- 
nade we  have  described,  but  never  transgressing  those  pre- 
cincts which  his  sagacity  knew  were  protected  by  his  master's 
pennon.  After  a  few  gambols  of  this  kind,  the  dog,  coming 
close  up  to  his  master,  laid  at  once  aside  his  frolicsome  mood, 
relapsed  into  his  usual  gravity  and  slowness  of  gesture  and 
deportment,  and  looked  as  if  he  were  ashamed  that  anything 
should  have  moved  him  to  depart  so  far  out  of  his  sober 
self-control. 

Both  knights  looked  on  with  pleasure  ;  for  Sir  Kenneth 
was  justly  proud  of  his  noble  hound,  and  the  northern 
English  baron  was,  of  course,  an  admirer  of  the  chase,  and  a 
judge  of  the  animal's  merits. 

"A  right  able  dog,"  he  said;  "I  think,  fair  sir.  King 
Richard  hath  not  an  alan  which  may  match  him,  if  he  be  as 
staunch  as  he  is  swift.  But  let  me  pray  you — speaking  in 
all  honor  and  kindness — have  you  not  heard  the  proclama- 


80  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

tion,  that  no  one,  under  the  rank  of  earl,  shall  keep  hunting 
dogs  within  King  Richard's  camp,  without  the  royal  license, 
which,  I  think,  Sir  Kenneth,  hath  not  been  issued  to  you  ? 
I  speak  as  Master  of  the  Horse." 

**  And  I  answer  as  a  free  Scottish  knight,"  said  Kenneth, 
sternly.  "For  the  present  I  follow  the  banner  of  England, 
but  I  cannot  remember  that  I  have  ever  subjected  myself  to 
the  forest  laws  of  that  kingdom,  nor  have  I  such  respect  for 
them  as  would  incline  me  to  do  so.  When  the  trumpet 
sounds  to  arms,  my  foot  is  in  the  stirrup  as  soon  as  any ; 
when  it  clangs  for  the  charge,  my  lance  has  not  yet  been  the 
last  laid  in  the  rest.  But  for  my  hours  of  liberty  or  of  idle- 
ness. King  Richard  has  no  title  to  bar  my  recreation." 

''Nevertheless,"  said  De  Vaux,  '"it  is  a  folly  to  disobey 
the  King's  ordinance  ;  so,  with  your  good  leave,  I,  as  having 
authority  in  that  matter,  will  send  you  a  protection  for  my 
friend  here." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  the  Scot,  coldly  ;  "  but  he  knows  my 
allotted  quarters,  and  within  these  I  can  protect  him  myself. 
And  yet,"  he  said,  suddenly  changing  his  manner,  "  this  is 
but  a  cold  return  for  a  well-meant  kindness.  I  thank  you, 
my  lord,  most  heartily.  The  King's  querries,  or  prickers, 
might  find  Roswal  at  disadvantage,  and  do  him  some  injury, 
which  I  should  not,  perhaps,  be  slow  in  returning,  and  so  ill 
might  come  of  it.  You  have  seen  so  much  of  my  housekeep- 
ing, my  lord,"  he  added  with  a  smile,  "that  I  need  not 
Bhame  to  say  that  Roswal  is  our  principal  purveyor  ;  and 
well  I  hope  our  Lion  Richard  will  not  be  like  the  lion  in  the 
minstrel  fable,  that  went  a-huntingand  kept  the  whole  booty 
to  himself.  I  cannot  think  lie  would  grudge  a  poor  gentle- 
man, who  follows  him  faithfully,  his  hour  of  sport  and  his 
morsel  of  game,  more  especially  when  other  food  is  hard 
enough  to  come  by." 

"  By  my  faith,  you  do  the  King  no  more  than  justice  ; 
and  yet,"  said  the  baron,  ''there  is  something  in  these  words, 
*  vert  *  and  '  venison,'  that  turns  the  very  brains  of  our 
Norman  princes." 

"We  have  heard  of  late,'' said  the  Scot,  "by  minstrels 
and  pilgrims,  that  your  outlawed  yeomen  have  formed  great 
bands  in  the  shires  of  York  and  Nottingham,  having  at  their 
head  a  most  stout  archer,  called  Robin  Hood,  with  his  lieu- 
tenant. Little  John.  Methinks  it  were  better  that  Richard 
relaxed  his  forest  code  in  England  than  endeavored  to  enforce 
it  in  the  Holy  Land." 

**  Wild  work.  Sir  Kenneth,"  replied  De  Vaux,  shrugging 


THE  TALISMAN  81 

shoukltj!  d,  as  one  who  would  avoid  a  perilous  or  unpleas- 
ig  topic — "a  mad  world,  sir.  I  must  now  bid  you  adieu, 
laving  presently  to  return  to  the  King's  pavilion.  At 
respers,  I  will  again,  with  your  leave,  visit  your  quarters, 
|and  speak  with  this  same  infidel  physician.  I  would,  in  the 
leantime,  were  it  no  oliehse,  willingly  send  you  what  would 
[somewhat  mend  your  cheer." 

I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Kenneth,  "but  it  needs  not: 
IRoswal  hath  already  stocked  my  larder  for  two  weeks,  since 
the  sun  of  Palestine,  if  it  brings  diseases,  serves  also  to  dry 
venison." 

The  two  warriors  parted  much  better  friends  than  they 
had  met  ;  but  ere  they  separated,  Thomas  de  Vaux  informed 
himself  at  more  length  of  the  circumstances  attending  the 
mission  of  the  Eastern  physician,  and  received  from  the 
Scottish  knight  the  credentials  which  he  had  brought  to 
King  Eichard  on  the  part  of  Saladin. 
6 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  wise  physician,  skill'd  our  wounds  to  heal, 
Is  more  than  armies  to  the  common  weal. 

Pope's  Iliad. 

"  This  is  a  strange  tale.  Sir  Thomas,"  said  the  sick 
monarch,  when  he  had  heard  the  report  of  the  trusty  Baron 
of  Gilslaud  ;  "art  thou  sure  this  Scottish  man  is  a  tall  man 
and  true  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,  my  lord,"  replied  the  jealous  Borderer  : 
*'  I  live  a  little  too  near  the  Scots  to  gather  much  truth 
among  them,  having  found  them  ever  fair  and  false.  But 
this  man's  bearing  is  that  of  a  true  man,  were  he  a  devil  as  well 
as  a  Scot ;  that  I  must  needs  say  for  him  in  conscience." 

"  And  for  his  carriage  as  a  knight,  how  say'st  thou,  De 
Vaux  ?  "  demanded  the  King. 

"It  is  your  Majesty's  business  more  than  mine  to  note 
men's  bearings  ;  and  I  warrant  you  have  noted  the  manner 
in  which  this  man  of  the  Leopard  hath  borne  himself.  He 
hath  been  full  well  spoken  of." 

"  And  jnstly,  Thomas,"  said  the  King,  "  We  have  our- 
selves witnessed  him.  It  is  indeed  our  purpose,  in  placing 
ourselves  ever  in  the  front  of  battle,  to  see  how  our  liegemen 
and  followers  acquit  themselves,  and  not  from  a  desire  to 
accumulate  vainglory  to  ourselves,  as  some  have  supposed. 
We  know  the  vanity  of  the  praise  of  man,  which  is  but  a 
vapor,  and  buckle  on  our  armor  for  other  purposes  than  to 
win  it," 

De  Vaux  was  alarmed  when  he  heard  the  King  make  a 
declaration  so  inconsistent  with  his  nature,  aiid  believed  at 
first  that  nothing  short  of  the  approach  of  death  could  have  , 
brought  him  to  speak  in  depreciating  terms  of  military  re- 
nown, which  was  the  very  breath  of  his  nostrils.  But,  rec- 
ollecting he  had  met  the  royal  confessor  in  the  outer  pa- 
vilion, he  was  shrewd  enough  to  place  this  temporary  self- 
abasement  to  the  effect  of  the  reverend  man's  lesson,  and 
suffered  the  King  to  proceed  without  reply. 

"Yes,"  continued  Richard,  "I  have  indeed  marked  the 
manner  in  which  this  knight  does  his  devoir.     My  leading- 
staff  were  not  worth  a  fool's  bauble,  had  he  escaped  my 
82 

s- 


a 

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ififti 
Th 
m 
h( 
iver 

8J1 

(ill: 
lett 

fatcl 
m 

IOC 


THE  TALISMAN  83 

notice ;  and  he  had  ere  now  tasted  of  our  bounty,  but  that 
I  have  also  marked  his  overweening  and  audacious  pre- 
sumption/' 

"  M}^  liege,"  said  the  Baron  of  Gilsland,  observing  the 
King's  countenance  change,  "I  fear  I  have  transgressed 
your  pleasure  in  lending  some  countenance  to  his  trans- 
gression." 

"How,  De  IMulton,  thou?"  said  the  King,  contracting 
his  brows  and  speaking  in  a  tone  of  angry  surprise — "  thou 
countenance  his  insolence  ?     It  cannot  be." 

"  Nay,  your  Majesty  will  pardon  me  to  remind  you  that  I 
have  by  mine  office  right  to  grant  liberty  to  men  of  gentle 
blood  to  keep  them  a  hound  or  two  within  camp,  just  to 
cherish  the  noble  art  of  venerie  ;  and  besides,  it  were  a  sin 

ito  have  maimed  or  harmed  a  thing  so  noble  as  this  gentle- 

I man's  dog." 

I     ''  Has  he  then  a  dog  so  handsome  ?"  said  the  King. 

"A  most  perfect  creature  of  Heaven,"  said  the  baron,  who 
was  an  enthusiast  in  field-sports,  "  of  the  noblest  Northern 
breed — deep  in  the  chest,  strong  in  the  stern,  black  color, 
and  brindled  on  the  breast  and  legs — not  spotted  with  white, 
but  just  shaded  into  gray — strength  to  pull  down  a  bull, 
swiftness  to  cote  an  antelope." 

The  King  laughed  at  his  enthusiasm.     "  "Well,  then  hast 

igiven  him  leave  to  keep  the  hound,  so  there  is  an  end  of  it. 
Be  not,  however,  liberal  of  your  licenses  among  those  knights 
adventurers  who  have  no  prince  or  leader  to  depend  upon  •, 
they  are  ungovernable,  and  leave  no  game  in  Palestine.    But 

ito  this  piece  of  learned  heathenesse — say'st  thou  the  Scot 

I  met  him  in  the  desert  ?  " 

**  No,  my  liege,  the  Scot's  tale  runs  thus  : — He  was  de- 
spatched to  the  old  hermit  of  Engaddi,  of  whom  men  talk 

so  much " 

**'Sdeath  and  hell!"  said  Eichard,  starting  up.  "By 
whom  despatched,  and  for  what  ?     Who  dared  send  any  one 

'thither  when  our  Queen  was  in   the  convent  of  Engaddi, 

\  upon  her  pilgrimage  for  our  recovery  ?  " 

"  The  council  of  the  Crusade  sent  him,  my  lord,*' answered 
the  Baron  de  Vaux  ;  "  for  what  purpose,  he  declined  to  account 
to  me.  I  think  it  is  scarce  known  in  the  camp  that  your 
royal  consort  is  on  a  pilgrimage,  and  even  tbe  princes  may 
not  have  been  aware,  as  the  Queen  has  been  sequestered  from 
company  since  your  love  prohibited  her  attendance  in  case  of 
infection." 
''Well,  it  shall  be  looked  into,"  said  Eichard.     ''So  this 


84  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Scottish  man,  this  envoy,  met  with  a  wandering  physician 
at  the  grotto  of  Engaddi — ha  ?" 

"Not  so,  my  liege,"  replied  DeVaux  ;  but  he  met,  I  think, 
near  that  place  with  a  Saracen  emir  with  whom  he  had  some 
melee  in  the  way  of  proof  of  valor,  and  finding  him  worthy 
to  bear  brave  men  company,  they  went  together,  as  errant 
knights  are  wont,  to  the  grotto  of  Engaddi." 

Here  De  Vanx  stopped,  for  he  was  not  one  of  those  who 
can  tell  a  long  story  in  a  sentence. 

"  And  did  they  there  meet  the  physician  ?"  demanded  the 
King,  impatiently. 

"  No,  my  liege,"  replied  De  Vanx  ;  "  but  the  Saracen, 
learning  your  Majesty's  grievous  illness,  undertook  that 
Saladin  should  send  his  own  physician  to  you,  and  with  many 
assurances  of  his  eminent  skill ;  and  he  came  to  the  grotto 
accordingly,  after  the  Scottish  knight  had  tarried  a  day  for 
him  and  more.  He  is  attended  as  if  he  were  a  prince,  with 
drums  and  atabals,  and  servants  on  horse  and  foot,  and  brings 
with  him  letters  of  credence  from  Saladin." 

"  Have  they  been  examined  by  Giacomo  Loredani  ?" 

'*I  showed  them  to  the  interpreter  ere  bringing  them 
hither,  and  behold  their  contents  in  English." 

Richard  took  a  scroll,  in  which  were  inscribed  these  words  : 
"  The  blessing  of  Allah  and  his  Prophet  Mohammed — {"  Out 
upon  the  hound! "said  Eichard,  spitting  in  contempt,  by 
way  of  interjection) — Saladin,  king  of  kings,  soldan  of 
Egypt  and  of  Syria,  the  light  and  refuge  of  the  earth,  to  the 
great  Melech  Ric — Richard  of  England — greeting.  Whereas 
Ave  have  been  informed  that  the  hand  of  sickness  hath  been 
heavy  upon  thee,  our  royal  brother,  and  that  thou  hast  with 
thee  only  such  Nazarene  and  Jewish  mediciners  as  work 
without  the  blessing  of  Allah  and  our  holy  Prophet — ("Con- 
fusion on  his  head  ! "  again  muttered  the  English  monarch) — 
we  have  therefore  sent  to  tend  and  wait  upon  thee  at  this 
time  the  physician  to  our  own  person,  Adonbec  el  Hakim, 
before  whose  face  the  angel  Azrael  *  spreads  his  wings  and 
departs  from  the  sick  chamber ;  who  knows  the  virtues  of 
herbs  and  stones,  the  path  of  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  and 
can  save  man  from  all  that  is  not  written  on  his  forehead. 
And  this  we  do,  praying  you  heartily  to  honor  and  make 
use  of  his  skill,  not  only  that  we  may  do  service  to  thy  worth 
and  valor,  which  is  the  glory  of  all  the  nations  of  Frangistan, 
but  that  we  may  bring  the  controversy  which  is  at  present 
between  us  to  an  end,  either  by  honorable  agreement  or  b5 
*The  Angel  of  Death. 


THE  TALISMAN  8fi 

open  trial  thereof  with  our  weapons  in  a  fair  field  ;  seeing 
that  it  neither  becomes  thy  place  and  courage  to  die  the 
death  of  a  slave  who  hath  been  overwrought  by  his  task- 
master, nor  benefits  it  our  fame  that  a  brave  adversary  be 
snatched  from  our  weapon  by  such  a  disease.  And,  there- 
fore, may  the  holy " 

"  Hold — hold/'  said  Richard,  "  I  will  have  no  more  of  his 
dog  of  a  Prophet  !  It  makes  me  sick  to  think  the  valiant 
and  worthy  Sol  Jan  should  believe  in  a  dead  dog.  Yes,  I 
will  see  his  physician.  I  will  put  myself  into  the  charge  of 
this  Hakim.  I  will  repay  the  noble  Soldan  his  generosity. 
I  will  meet  Saladin  in  the  field,  as  he  so  worthily  proposes, 
and  he  shall  have  no  cause  to  term  Richard  of  England  un- 
grateful. I  will  strike  him  to  the  earth  with  my  battle-ax. 
I  will  convert  him  to  Holy  Church  with  such  bloAvs  as  he 
has  rarely  endured.  He  shall  recant  his  errors  before  my 
good  cross-handled  sword,  and  I  will  have  him  baptized  in 
the  battle-field,  from  my  own  helmet,  though  the  cleansing 
waters  were  mixed  with  the  blood  of  us  both.  Haste,  De 
Vaux,  why  dost  thou  delay  a  conclusion  so  pleasing  ?  Fetch 
the  Hakim  hither.'' 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  baron,  who  perhaps  saw  some  acces- 
sion of  fever  in  this  overfiow  of  confidence,  "  bethink  you, 
the  Soldan  is  a  pagan,  and  that  you  are  his  most  formidable 
enemy " 

"  For  which  reason  he  is  the  more  bound  to  do  me  service 
in  this  matter,  lest  a  paltry  fever  end  the  quarrel  betwixt 
two  such  kings.  I  tell  thee,  he  loves  me  as  I  love  him — as 
noble  adversaries  ever  love  each  other ;  by  my  honor,  it  were 
sin  to  doubt  his  good  faith." 

"  Nevertheless,  my  lord,  it  were  well  to  wait  the  issue  of 
these  medicines  upon  the  Scottish  squire,"  said  the  Lord  of 
Gilsland  ;  "  my  own  life  depends  upon  it,  for  worthy  were  I 
to  die  like  a  dog,  did  I  proceed  rashly  in  this  matter,  and 
make  shipwreck  of  the  weal  of  Christendom." 

"I  never  knew  thee  before  hesitate  for  fear  of  life,"  said 
Richard,  upbraidingly. 

"  Nor  would  I  now,  my  liege,"  replied  the  stout-hearted 
baron,  "  save  that  yours  lies  at  pledge  as  well  as  my  own." 

"  Well,  thou  suspicious  mortal,"  answered  Richard,  ''  be- 
gone then,  and  watch  the  progress  of  this  remedy.  I  could 
almost  wish  it  might  either  cure  or  kill  me,  for  I  am  weary 
of  lying  here  like  an  ox  dying  of  the  murrain,  when  tam- 
bours are  beating,  horses  stamping,  and  trumpets  sounding 
without/^ 


m  iVA VERLEY  NOVELS 

The  baron  hastily  departed^  resolved,  however,  to  cotft. 
municate  his  errand  to  some  churchman,  as  he  felt  some^ 
thing  burdened  in  conscience  at  the  idea  of  his  master  being     f' 
attended  by  an  unbeliever,  i 

The  Archbishop  of  Tyre  was  the  first  to  whom  he  confided  '!^ 
his  doubts,  knowing  his  interest  with  his  master,  Eichard,  f 
who  both  loTcd  and  honored  that  sagacious  pi'elate.  The 
bishop  heard  the  doubts  which  De  Vtiux  stated  with  that 
acuteness  of  intelligence  which  distinguishes  the  Roman 
Catholic  clergy.  The  religious  scruples  of  De  Vaux  he 
treated  with  as  much  lightness  as  propriety  permitted  him 
to  exhibit  such  a  subject  to  a  layman. 

'' Mediciners,"  he  said,  'Hike  the  medicines  which  they 
employed,  were  often  useful,  though  the  one  were  by  birth 
or  manners  the  vilest  of  humanity,  as  tlie  others  are,  in 
many  cases,  extracted  from  the  basest  materials.  Men  may 
use  the  assistance  of  pagans  and  infidels,^'  he  continued, 
"  in  their  need,  and  there  is  reason  to  think  that  one  cause 
of  their  being  permitted  to  remain  on  earth  is,  that  they 
might  minister  to  the  convenience  of  true  Christians.  Thus, 
we  lawfully  make  slaves  of  heathen  captives.  Again,"  prO' 
ceeded  the  prelate,  'Hhere  is  no  doubt  that  the  primitive 
Christians  used  the  services  of  the  unconverted  heathen 
thus,  in  the  ship  of  Alexandria,  in  which  the  blessed  Apostle 
Paul  sailed  to_  Italy,  the  sailors  were  doubtless  pagans,  yet 
what  said  the' holy  saint  Avhen  their  ministry  was  needful, 
'  JVisi  hi  in  navi  manserint,  vos  salvi  fieri  71071  potestis — 
Unless  these  men  abide  in  the  ship,  ye  cannot  be  saved.' 
Again,  Jews  are  infidels  to  Christianity  as  well  as  Moham- 
medans. But  tliere  are  few  physicians  in  the  camp  except 
ing  Jews,  and  such  are  employed  without  scandal  or  scruple. 
Therefore,  Mohammedans  may  be  used  for  their  service  in 
that  capacity,  quod  ei^at  demmist7-andum." 

This  reasoning  entirely  removed  the  scruples  of  Thomas 
de  Vaux,  who  was  particularly  moved  by  the  Latin  quota- 
tion, as  he  did  not  understand  a  word  of  it. 

But  the  bishop  proceeded  with  far  less  fluency  when  h( 
considered  the  i^ossibility  of  the  Saracen's  acting  with  bac 
faith  ;  and  here  he  came  not  to  a  speedy  decision.  Thi 
baron  showed  him  the  letters  of  credence.  lie  read  and  re 
read  them,  and  compared  the  original  with  the  translation. 

*'  It  is  a  dish  choicely  cooked,"  he  said,  '''to  the  palate  0 
King  Richard,  and  I  cannot  but  have  my  suspicions  of  th 
wily  Saracen.  They  are  curious  in  the  art  of  poisons,  an,, 
can  so  temper  them  that  they  shall  be  weeks  in  acting  upo| 


Ill 

n 

is 

Itlie 

Vi 


4 

Itdc 

iW 

?lil> 


I  THE  TALISMAN  81 

;he  party,  during  which  time  the  perpetrator  has  leisure  to 
escape.  They  can  impregnate  cloth  and  leather,  nay,  even 
)aper  and  parchment,  with  the  most  subtle  venom.  Our 
jady  forgive  me  !  and  wherefore,  knowing  this,  hold  I  these 
etters  of  credence  so  close  so  my  face  ?  Take  them,  Sir 
Thomas — take  them  speedily. 

Here  he  gave  them  at  arm's-length,  and  with  some  appcar- 
mce  of  haste,  to  the  baron.  "  But  come,  my  Lord  cle  Vaux,'' 
le  continued,  "  wend  we  to  the  tent  of  this  sick  squire, 
vhere  we  shall  learn  whether  this  Hakim  hath  really  the 
irt  of  curing  which  he  professeth,  ere  we  consider  whether 
;here  be  safety  in  permitting  him  to  exercise  his  art  upon 
King  Eichard.  Yet,  hold  !  let  me  first  take  my  pounce*-- 
Dox,  for  these  fevers  spread  like  an  infection.  I  Avould 
iidvise  you  to  use  dried  rosemary  steeped  in  vinegar,  my  lord. 
{[,  too,  know  something  of  the  healing  art." 
;  "  I  thank  your  reverend  lordship,"  replied  Thomas  of  Gils- 
iand  ;  ''but  had  I  been  accessible  to  the  fever,  I  had  caught 
iit  long  since  by  the  bed  of  my  master." 

The  Bishop  of  Tyre  blushed,  for  he  had  rather  avoided 
the  presence  of  the  sick  monarch  ;  and  he  bid  the  baron 
lead  on. 

As  they  paused  before  the  wretched  hut  in  which  Kenneth 
of  the  Leopard  and  his  follower  abode,  the  bishop  said  to 
De  Vaux,  "  Now,  of  a  surety^,  my  lord,  these  Scottish 
knights  have  worse  care  of  their  followers  than  we  of  our 
dogs.  Here  is  a  knight,  valiant  they  say  in  battle,  and 
thought  fitting  to  be  graced  with  charges  of  weight  in  time 
of  truce,  whose  esquire  of  the  body  is  lodged  worse  than  in 
the  worst  dog-kennel  in  England.  What  say  you  of  your 
neighbors  ?  " 

"  That  a  master  doth  well  enough  for  his  servant,  when 
he  lodgeth  him  in  no  worse  dwelling  than  his  own,"  said  De 
Vaux,  and  entered  the  hut. 

The  bishop  followed,  not  without  evident  reli\  3tauce  ;  for 
though  he  lacked  not  courage  in  some  respects,  yet  it  was 
tempered  with  a  strong  and  lively  regard  for  his  own  safety. 
He  recollected,  however,  the  necessity  there  was  for  judging 
personally  of  the  skill  of  the  Arabian  physician,  and  entered 
the  hut  with  a  stateliness  of  manner  calculated,  as  he  thought, 
to  impose  respect  on  the  stranger. 

The  prelate  was,  indeed,  a  striking  and  commanding 
figure.  In  his  youth  he  had  been  eminently  handsome,  and, 
even  in  age,  was  unwilling  to  appear  less  so.  His  episcopal 
dress  was  of  the  richest  fashion,  trimmed  with  costly  fur, 


88  WA VERLEY  NOVEL S 

and  surrounded  by  a  cope  of  curious  needlework.  The  ringa 
on  his  fingers  were  worth  a  goodly  barony,  and  the  hood 
which  he  wore,  thjugh  now  unclasped  and  thrown  back  for 
heat,  had  studs  of  pure  gold  to  fasten  it  around  his  throat 
and  under  his  chin  when  he  so  inclined.  His  long  beard, 
now  silvered  with  age,  descended  over  his  breast  One  of 
two  youthful  acolytes  who  attended  him  created  an  artificial 
shade,  peculiar  then  to  the  East,  by  bearing  over  his  head 
an  umbrella  of  palmetto  leaves,  while  tlie  other  refreshed 
his  reverend  master  by  agitating  a  fan  of  peacock-feathers. 

When  the  Bishop  of  Tyre  entered  the  hut  of  the  Scottish 
knight,  the  master  was  absent  ;  and  the  Moorish  physician, 
whom  he  had  come  to  see,  sat  in  the  very  posture  in  which 
De  Vaux  had  left  him  several  hours  before,  cross-legged 
upon  a  mat  made  of  twisted  leaves,  by  the  side  of  the  patient, 
who  appeared  in  deep  slumber,  and  whose  pulse  he  felt 
from  time  to  time.  The  bishop  remained  standing  before 
liim  in  silence  for  two  or  three  minutes,  as  if  expecting  some 
honorable  salutation,  or  at  least  that  the  Saracen  would 
seem  struck  with  the  dignity  of  his  appearance.  But 
Adonbec  el  Hakim  took  no  notice  of  him  beyond  a  passing 
glance,  and  when  the  prelate  at  length  saluted  him  in  the 
lingua  franca  current  in  the  country,  he  only  replied  by  the 
ordinary  Oriental  greeting,   *'  Salam  alicum — peace  be  with 

"  Art  thou  a  physician,  infidel  ?  "  said  the  bishop,  some- 
what mortified  at  this  cold  reception.  "  I  would  s^^eak  with 
thee  on  that  art.'* 

"  If  thou  knewest  aught  of  medicine,"  answered  El  Hakim, 
"  thou  wouldst  be  aware  that  physicians  hold  no  counsel  or 
debate  in  the  sick-chamber  of  their  patient.  Hear,"  he 
added,  as  the  low  growling  of  thestaghound  was  heard  from 
the  inner  hut,  "  even  the  dog  might  teach  thee  reason, 
ulemat.  His  instinct  teaches  him  to  suppress  his  barking 
in  the  sick  man's  hearing.  Come  without  the  tent,"  said  he, 
rising  and  leading  the  way,  *'  if  thou  hast  aught  to  say  with 
me." 

Notwithstanding  the  plainness  of  the  Saracen  leech's  dress, 
and  his  inferiority  of  size,  when  contrasted  with  the  tall 
prelate  and  gigantic  English  baron,  there  was  somethin;; 
striking  iii  his  m.anner  and  conntenance,  which  prevented 
the  Bishop  of  Tyre  from  ex])ressing  strongly  tlie  displeasure 
he  felt  at  this  unceremonious  rebuke.  When  without  the 
hut,  he  gazed  upon  Adonbec  in  silence  for  several  minutes 
before  he  could  fix  on  the  best  manner  to  renew  the  con- 


THE  TALISMAN  89 

versation.  No  locks  were  seen  under  the  liigh  bonnet  of  tlie 
Arabian,  which  hid  also  part  of  a  brow  that  seemed  lofty 
and  expanded,  smooth  and  free  from  wrinkles,  as  were  his 
cheeks,  where  they  were  seen  under  the  shade  of  his  long 
beard.  We  have  elsewhere  noticed  the  piercing  quality  of 
his  dark  eyes. 

The  prelate,  struck  with  his  apparent  youth,  at  length 
broke  a  pause  which  the  other  seemed  in  no  haste  to  in- 
terrupt, by  demanding  of  the  Arabian  how  old  he  was. 

"  The  years  of  ordinary  men,"  said  the  Saracen,  "  are 
counted  by  their  wrinkles,  those  of  sages  by  their  studies. 
I  dare  not  call  myself  older  than  an  hundred  revolutions  of 
the  Hegira,"  * 

The  Baron  of  Gilsland,  who  took  this  for  a  literal  asser- 
tion that  he  was  a  century  old,  looked  doubtfully  upon  the 
prelate,  who,  though  he  better  understood  the  meaning  of 
El  Hakim,  answered  his  glance  by  mysteriously  shaking  his 
head.  He  resumed  an  air  of  importance,  when  he  again 
authoritatively  demanded  what  evidence  Adonbec  could  pro- 
duce of  his  medical  proficiency. 

"  Ye  have  the  word  of  the  mighty  Saladin,"  said  the 
sage,  touching  his  cap  in  sign  of  reverence,  "&  word  which 
was  never  broken  towards  friend  or  foe ;  what,  Nazarene, 
wouldst  thou  demand  more  ?  " 

**  I  would  have  ocular  proof  of  thy  skill,"  said  the  baron, 
*'  and  without  it  thou  approachcst  not  to  the  couch  of  King 
Richard.'' 

"  The  praise  of  the  physician,*'  said  the  Arabian,  "  is  in 
the  recovery  of  his  patient.  Behold  this  sergeant,  whose 
blood  has  been  dried  up  by  the  fever  which  has  whitened 
your  camp  with  skeletons,  and  against  whicii  the  art  of  your 
Nazarone  leeches  hath  been  like  a  silken  doublet  against  a 
lance  of  steel.  Look  at  his  fingers  and  arms,  wasted  like  the 
claws  and  shanks  of  the  crane.  Death  had  this  morning  his 
clutch  on  him  ;  but  had  Azrael  been  on  one  side  of  the 
couch,  I  being  on  the  other,  his  soul  should  not  have  been 
reft  from  his  body.  Disturb  me  not  with  farther  questions, 
but  await  the  critical  minute,  and  behold  in  silent  wonder 
the  marvelous  event." 

The  physician  had  them  recourse  to  his  astrolabe,  the 
oracle  of  Eastern  science,  and,  watching  with  grave  pre- 
cision until  the  precise  time  of  the  evening  prayer  had  arrived, 
he  sunk  on  his  knees,  with  his  face  turned  to  Mecca,  and 

*  Meaning,  that  his  attainments  were  those  which  might  have 
been  made  in  a  hundred  years. 


90  WA VEELEY  NOVELS 

recited  the  petitions  which  close   the  Moslemah's  day  of 
toil. 

The  bishop  and  the  English  baron  looked  on  each  other 
meanwhile  with  symptoms  of  contempt  and  indignation,  but 
neither  judged  it"^fit  to  interrupt  El  Hakim  in  his  devotions, 
unholy  as  they  considered  them  to  be. 

The  Arab  arose  from  the  earth,  on  which  he  had  pros 
trated  himself,  aud,  walking  into  the  hut  where  the  patient  laj 
extended,  he  drew  a  sponge  from  a  small  silver  box,  dippec 
perhaps  in  some  aromatic  distillation  ;  for  when  he  put  it  t( 
the  sleeper's  nose,  he  sneezed,  awoke  and  looked  wildly 
around.     He  was  a  ghastly  spectacle,  as  he  sat  up  almos 

3ibleth< 


naked  on  his  couch,  the  bones  and  cartilages  as  visible  thougl 
the  surface  of  his  skin  as  if  they  had  never  been  clothec 
with  flesh  ;  his  face  was  long,  and  furrowed  with  wrinkles 
but  his  eye,  though  it  wandered  at  first,  became  graduall; 
more  settled.  He  seemed  to  be  aware  of  the  presence  of  hi" 
dignified  visitors,  for  he  attempted  feebly  to  pull  the  coveriu. 
from  his  head,  in  token  of  reverence,  as  he  inquired,  in 
subdued  and  submissive  voice,  for  his  master. 

*'  Do  you  know  us,  vassal  ?"  said  the  Lord  of  Gilsland. 

"  Not  perfectly,  my   lord,"  replied   the   squired  faintlj 
*'  My  sleep  has  been  long  and  full  of  dreams.     Yet  I  kno^    •■ 
that  you  are  a  great  English  lord,  as  seemeth  by  the  re 
cross,  and  this  a  holy  prelate,  whose  blessing  I  crave  on  m 
a  poor  sinner." 

*'Thou  hast  it  :  BenedicHo  Domi7ii  sit  vohiscum,'"  said  tl: 
prelate,  makiug  the  sign  of  the  cross,  but  without  approacl 
ing  nearer  to  the  patient's  bed. 

"Your  eyes  witness,"  said  the  Arabian,  "the  fever  hat  fcte 
been  subdued :  he  speaks   with  calmness   and  recollectioi 
his   pulse   beats   composedly    as    yours — try   its   pulsatioi 
yourself." 

The   prelate  declined   the   experiment  ;   but   Thomas 
Gilsland,  more  determined  on  making  the  trial,  did  so,  ar 
satisfied  himself  that  the  fever  was  indeed  gone. 

"  This   is  most  wonderful,"  said  the  knight,  looking 
the  bishop  :  '*  the  man  is  assuredly  cured.     I  must  C(mdu 
this   mediciner  presently   to    King   Richard's   tent.     Wh 
thinks  your  reverence  ?  "  'i 

"  Stay,  let  me  finish  one  cure  ere  I  commence  another* 
said  the  Arab  ;  "  I  will  pass  with  you  when  I  have  given  iv 
patient  the  second  cup  of  this  most  holy  elixir." 

So  saying,  he  pulled  out  a  silver  cup,  and  filling  it  wii 
water  from  a  gourd  which  stood  by  the  bedside,  he  next  dn  '  ^jji 


te 

"1 

irek; 


THE  TALISMAN  91 

forth  a  small  silken  bag  made  of  network,  twisted  with  silver, 
the  contents  of  wliich  the  bystanders  conld  not  discover,  and 
immersing  it  in  the  cup,  continued  to  watch  it  in  silence 
during  the  space  five  minutes.  It  seemed  to  the  spectators 
as  if  some  effervescence  took  place  during  the  operation  ; 
but  if  so,  it  instantly  subsided. 

"  Drink,"  said  the  physician  to  the  sick  man  ;  "  sleep,  and 
awaken  free  from  malady." 

"And  with  this  simple-seeming  draught  thou  will  under- 
take to  cure  a  monarch  ?  "  said  the  Bishop  of  Tyre. 

"  I  have  cured  a  beggar,  as  you  may  behold,"  replied  the 
sage.  "  Are  the  kings  of  Frangistan  made  of  other  clay  than 
the  meanest  of  their  subjects  ?  " 

"  Let  us  have  him  presently  to  the  King,"  said  the  Baron 
of  Gilsland.  "  He  hath  sliown  that  he  possesses  the  secret 
which  may  restore  his  health.  If  he  fails  to  exercise  it,  I 
will  put  himself  past  the  power  of  medicine." 

As  they  were  about  to  leave  the  hut,  the  sick  man,  raising 
his  voice  as  much  as  his  weakness  permitted,  exclaimed, 
*'Eeverend  father,  noble  knight,  and  you,  kind  leech,  if  you 
would  have  me  sleep  and  recover,  tell  me  in  charity  what  is 
become  of  my  dear  master  ? " 

"  He  is  upon  a  distant  expedition,  friend,"  replied  the  prel-, 
i\  ate — ''on  an  honorable  embassy,  which  may  detain  him  for 
some  days." 

*'  Nay,"  said  the  Baron  of  Gilsland,  "  why  deceive  the  poor 
fellow  ?  Friend,  thy  master  has  returned  to  the  camp,  and 
li  you  will  presently  see  him." 

The  invalid  held  up,  as  if  in  thankfulness,  his  wasted  hands 
to  heaven,  and,  resisting  no  longer  the  soporiferous  operation 
of  the  elixir,  sunk  down  in  a  gentle  sleep. 

"  You  are  a  better  physician  tlian  I,  Sir  Thomas,"  said  the 
prelate  :  ''  a  soothing  falsehood  is  fitter  for  a  sick-room  than 
an  unpleasing  truth." 

"  How  mean  you,  my  reverend  lord?"  said  De  Vaux, 
hastily.  "  Think  you  I  would  tell  a  falsehood  to  save  the 
lives  of  a  dozen  such  as  he  ?" 

"  You  said,"  replied  the  bishop,  with  manifest  symptoms  of 
alarm — "  you  said  the  esquire's  master  was  returned — he,  I 
mean,  of  the  Conchant  Leopard  ?" 

"  And  he  is  returned,"  said  De  Vaux.  "  I  spoke  with  him 
but  a  few  hours  since.  This  learned  leech  came  in  his  com- 
pany." 

''Holy  Virgin  !  why  told  you  not  of  his  return  to  me  ?" 
said  the  bishop,  in  evident  perturbation. 


92  WA  VERLEY  NO VEL S 

*'  Did  I  not  say  that  this  same  Knight  of  the  Leopard  had 
returned  in  company  with  the  physician  ?  I  thought  I  had/' 
replied  De  Vaux,  carelessly  ;  "  but  what  signified  his  return 
to  the  skill  of  the  physician  or  the  cure  of  his  Majesty  ?" 

"  Much,  Sir  Thomas — it  signified  much,"  said  the  bishop, 
clenching  his  hands,  pressing  his  foot  against  the  earth,  and 
giving  signs  of  impatience,  as  if  in  an  involuntary  manner. 
•'  But  where  can  he  be  gone  now,  this  same  knight  ?  God 
be  with  us — here  may  be  some  fatal  errors  ! " 

"  Yonder  serf  in  the  outer  space,"  said  De  Vaux,  not  with- 
out wonder  at  the  bishop's  emotion,  "  can  probably  tell  us 
whither  his  master  has  gone." 

The  lad  was  summoned,  and,  in  a  language  nearly  incom- 
prehensible to  them,  gave  them  at  length  to  understand  that 
an  officer  had  summoned  his  master  to  the  royal  tent,  some 
time  before  their  arrival  at  that  of  his  master.  The  anxiety 
of  the  bishop  appeared  to  rise  to  the  highest,  and  became 
evident  to  De  Vaux,  though  neither  an  acute  observer  nor  of 
a  suspicious  temper.  But  with  his  anxiety  seemed  to  increase 
his  wish  to  keep  it  subdued  and  unobserved.  He  took  a 
hasty  leave  of  De  Vaux,  Avho  looked  after  him  with  astonish- 
ment ;  and,  after  shrugging  up  his  shoulders  in  silent  wonder, 
proceeded  to  conduct  the  Arabian  physician  to  the  tent  oi 
King  Richard 


CHAPTER  IX 

This  is  the  prince  of  leeches :  fever,  plague. 
Cold  rheum,  and  hot  podagra,  do  but  look  on  him, 
And  quit  their  grasp  upon  the  tortured  sinews. 

Anonymous. 

The  Baron  of  Gilsland  walked  with  slow  step  and  an  anxious 
countenance  toward  the  royal  pavilion.  He  had  much  diffi- 
dence of  his  own  capacity,  except  in  a  field  of  battle,  and, 
conscious  of  no  very  acute  intellect,  was  usually  contented  to 
wonder  at  circumstances  which  a  man  of  Hvelier  imagination 
would  have  endeavored  to  investigate  and  understand,  or  at 
least  would  have  made  the  subject  of  speculation.  But  it 
seemed  very  extraordinary,  even  to  him,  that  the  attention 
of  the  bishop  should  have  been  at  once  abstracted  from  all 
reflection  on  the  marvelous  cure  which  they  had  witnessed, 
and  upon  the  probability  it  afforded  of  Eichard  being  restored 
to  health,  by  what  seemed  a  very  trivial  piece  of  information, 
announcing  the  motions  of  a  beggarly  Scottish  knight,  tlian 
whom  Thomas  of  Gilsland  knew  nothing  within  the  circle  of 
gentle  blood  more  unimportant  or  contemptible  ;  and,  despite 
his  usual  habit  of  passively  beholding  passing  events,  the 
baron's  spirit  toiled  with  unwonted  attempts  to  form  conjec- 
tures on  the  cause. 

At  length  the  idea  occurred  at  once  to  him,  that  the  whole 
might  be  a  conspiracy  against  King  Eichard,  formed  within 
the  camp  of  the  allies,  and  to  which  the  bishop,  who  was  by 
some  represented  as  a  politic  and  unscrupulous  person,  was 
not  unlikely  to  have  been  accessary.  It  was  true  that,  in  his 
own  opinion,  there  existed  no  character  so  perfect  as  that  of 
his  master  ;  for  Eichard  being  theflower  of  chivalry,  and  the 
chief  of  Christian  leaders,  and  obeying  in  all  points  the  com- 
mands of  Holy  Church,  De  Vaux's  ideas  of  perfection  went 
no  farther.  Still  he  knew  that,  however  unworthily,  it  had 
been  always  his  master's  fate  to  draw  as  much  reproach  and 
dislike  as  honor  and  attachment  from  the  display  of  his  great 
qualities  ;  and  that  in  the  very  camp,  and  amongst  those 
princes  bound  by  oath  to  the  Crusade,  were  many  who  would 
have  sacrificed  all  hope  of  victory  over  the  Saracens  to  the 
93 


94  WAVER  LEY  NOVELS 

f)leasure  ol  ruining,  or  at  least  of  humbling,  Richard  of  Eng- 
and. 

'*  Wherefore,"  said  the  baron  to  himself,  "  it  is  in  no  sense 
impossible  that  this  El  Hakim,  with  this  his  cure,  or  seeming 
cure,  wrought  on  the  body  of  his  Scottish  squire,  may  mean 
nothing  but  a  trick,  to  which  he  of  the  Leopard  may  be 
accessary,  and  wherein  the  Bishop  of  Tyre,  prelate  as  he  is, 
may  have  some  share." 

This  hypothesis,  indeed,  could  not  be  so  easily  reconciled 
with  the  alarm  manifested  by  the  bishop,  on  learning  that, 
contrary  to  his  expectation,  the  Scottish  knight  had  suddenly 
returned  to  the  Crusaders'  camp.  But  De  Vaux  was  in- 
fluenced only  by  his  general  prejudices,  which  dictated  to 
him  the  assured  belief  that  a  wily  Italian  priest,  a  false 
hearted  Scot,  and  an  infidel  physician  formed  a  set  of  ingre 
dients  from  which  all  evil,  and  no  good,  was  likely  to  be  ex- 
tracted. He  resolved,  however,  to  lay  his  scruples  bluntly 
before  the  King,  of  whose  judgment  he  had  nearly  as  high 
an  opinion  as  of  his  valor. 

Meantime,  events  had  taken  place  very  contrary  to  the 
suppositions  which  Thomas  de  Vaux  had  entertained.  Scarce 
had  he  left  the  royal  pavilion,  when,  betwixt  the  impatience 
of  the  fever  and  that  which  was  natural  to  his  disposition, 
Richard  began  to  murmur  at  his  delay,  and  express  an  earn- 
est desire  for  his  return.  He  had  seen  enough  to  try  to  reason 
himself  out  of  this  irritation,  which  greatly  increased  his 
bodily  malady.  He  wearied  his  attendants  by  demanding 
from  them  amusements,  and  the  breviary  of  the  priest,  the 
romance  of  the  clerk,  even  the  harp  of  his  favorite  minstrel, 
were  had  recourse  to  in  vain.  At  length,  some  two  hours 
before  sundown,  and  long,  therefore,  ere  he  could  expect  a 
satisfactory  account  of  the  process  of  the  cure  which  the  ""' 
Moor  or  Arabian  had  undertaken,  he  sent,  as  we  have  already 
heard,  a  messenger  commanding  the  attendance  of  the  Knight 
of  the  Leopard,  determined  to  soothe  his  impatience  by  ob- 
taining from  Sir  Kenneth  a  more  particular  account  of  the 
cause  of  his  absence  from  the  camp,  and  the  circumstances 
of  his  meeting  with  this  celebrated  physician. 

The  Scottish  knight,  thus  summoned,  entered  the  roya" 
presence  as  one  who  was  no  stranger  to  such  scenes.     He  wm 
scarcely  known  to  the  King  of  England,  even  by  sight,  al . 
though,  tenacious  of  his  rank,  as  devout  in  the  adoration  o:      » 
the  lady  of  his  secret  heart,  he  had  never  been  absent  on  thost|    i  , 
occasions  when  the  munificence  and  hosjjitality  of  Englancj'      " 
opened  the  court  of  its  monarch  to  all  who  held  a  certain  ranJij 


THE  TALISMAN  95 

in  chivalry.  The  King  gazed  fixedly  on  Sir  Kenneth  ap- 
proaching his  bedside,  while  the  knight  bent  his  knee  for  a 
moment,  then  arose  and  stood  before  him,  as  became  an  officer 
in  the  presence  of  his  sovereign,  in  a  posture  of  deference, 
but  not  of  subservience  or  humility. 

"  Thy  name,"  said  the  King,  "  is  Kenneth  of  the  Leopard. 
From  whom  hadst  thou  degree  of  knighthood  ?  " 

"  I  took  it  from  the  sword  of  AYilliam  the  Lion,  King  of 
Scotland,"  replied  the  Scot. 

"A  weapon,"  said  the  King,  "well  worthy  to  confer 
honor,  nor  has  it  been  laid  on  an  undeserving  shoulder. 
We  have  seen  thee  bear  thyself  knightly  and  valiantly  in 
press  of  battle,  when  most  need  there  was  ;  and  thou  hadst 
iKit  been  yet  to  learn  that  thy  deserts. were  known  to  us,  but 
that  thy  presumption  in  other  points  has  been  such  that  tliy 
services  can  challenge  no  better  reward  than  that  of  pardon 
for  thy  transgression.     What  sayst  thon — ha  ?  " 

Kenneth  attempted  to  speak,  but  was  unable  to  express 
himself  distinctly,  the  consciousness  of  his  too  ambitions  love, 
and  the  keen  falcon  glance  with  which  Coeur-de-Lion  seemed 
to  penetrate  his  inmost  soul,  combining  to  disconcert  him. 

"And  yet,"  said  the  King,  "although  soldiers  should 
obey  command,  and  vassals  be  respectful  towards  their  supe- 
riors, we  might  forgive  a  brave  knight  greater  offense  than 
the  keeping  a  simple  hound,  though  it  were  contrary  to  our 
express  public  ordinance.'" 

Kichard  kept  his  eye  fixed  on  the  Scot's  face,  beheld,  and 
beholding  smiled  inwardly  at,  the  relief  produced  by  the  turn 
he  had  given  to  his  general  accusation. 

"  So  please  you,  my  lord,"  said  the  Scot,  "your  Majesty 
must  be  good  to  ns  poor  gentlemen  of  Scotland  in  this  mat- 
ter. We  are  far  from  home,  scant  of  revenues,  and  cannot 
support  ourselves  as  your  wealthy  nobles,  who  have  credit  of 
the  Lombards.  The  Saracens  shall  feel  our  blows  the  harder 
that  we  cat  a  piece  of  dried  venison  from  time  to  time  with 
our  herbs  and  barley-cakes.'" 

"It  skills  not  asking  my  leave,"  said  Eichard,  "since 
Thomas  de  Vaux,  who  doth,  like  all  around  me,  that  which 
is  fittest  in  his  own  eyes,  hath  already  given  thee  permission 
for  hunting  and  hawking." 

"  For  hunting  only,  and  please  you,"  said  the  Scot ;  "  but, 
if  it  please  yonr  Majesty  to  indulge  me  with  the  privilege  of 
hawking  also,  and  yon  list  to  trust  me  with  a  falcon  on  fist, 
I  trust  I  could  supply  your  royal  mess  with  some  choice 
water-fowl." 


96  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

yl  dread  me,  if  thou  hadst  but  the  falcon,"  sai:.  the 
King,  "thou  wouldst  scarce  wait  for  the  permission,  i  wot. 
well  it  is  said  abroad  that  we  of  the  line  of  Anjou  resent' 
offense  agamst  our  forest  laws  as  highly  as  we  would  do 
treason  against  our  crown.  To  brave  and  worthy  men,  how- 
ever, we  could  laardon  either  misdemeanor.  But  enough  of' 
this.  I  desire  to  know  of  you,  sir  knight,  wherefore,  and 
by  whose  authority,  you  took  this  recent  journey  to  the 
wilderness  of  the  Dead  Sea  and  Engaddi  ?" 

*^' By  order,"  replied  the  knight,  *'of  the  council  of  the 
princes  of  the  holy  Crusade." 

"And  how  dared  any  one  to  give  such  an  order,  when  I — ; 
not  the  least,  surely,  in  the  league — was  unacquainted  with' 
it?" 

"  It  was  not  my  part,  please  your  Highness,"  said  the  Scot, ; 
"to  inquire  into  such  particulars.  lam  a  soldier  of  the: 
Cross — serving,  doubtless,  for  the  jiresent,  under  your  High- 1 
ness's  banner,  and  proud  of  the  permission  to  do  so;  but' 
still  one  who  hath  taken  on  him  the  holy  symbol  for  the 
rights  of  Christianity,  and  the  recovery  of  the  Holy  Sepul-i 
chre,  and  bound,  therefore,  to  obey,  without  question,  the' 
orders  of  the  princes  and  chiefs  by  whom  the  blessed  enter-' 
prise  is  directed.  That  indisposition  should  seclude,  I  trust 
for  but  a  short  time,  your  Highness  from  their  councils,  in 
which  you  had  so  potential  a  voice,  I  must  lament  with  all 
Christendom  ;  but,  as  a  soldier,  I  must  obey  those  on  whom! 
the  lawful  right  of  command  devolves,  or  set  but  an  evil' 
example  in  the  Christian  camp." 

"  Thou  say'st  well."  said  KingEichard  ;  "and  the  blame; 
rests  not  with  thee,  but  with  those  with  whom,  when  it  shall' 
please  Heavoi  to  raise  me  from  this  accursed  bed  of  pain  and' 
inactivity,  I  hope  to  reckon  roundly.  What  was  the  purport 
of  thy  message  ?" 

**  Methinks,  and  please  your  Highness,"  replied  Sir  Ken- 
neth, "  that  were  best  asked  of  those  who  sent  me,  and  who; 
can  render  the  reasons  of  mine  errand  ;  whereas,  I  can  only 
tell  its  outward  form  and  purport." 

"  Palter  not  with  me,  Sir  Scot ;  it  were  ill  for  thy  safety, *^' 
said  the  irritable  monarch.  i 

"  My  safety,  my  lord,"  replied  the  knight  firmly,  "I  cast, 
behind  me  as  a  regardless  thing  when  I  vowed  myself  to  this 
enterprise,  looking  rather  to  my  immortal  welfare  than  t( 
that  which  concerns  my  earthly  body/' 

"  By  the  mass,"  said  King  Eichard,  "  thou  art  a  brav( 
fellow  I     Hark    thee,    sir    knight,    I    love    the    Scottisl 


THE  TALISMAN  VJ 

people  :  they  are  hardy,  though  dogged  Jiiid  stubborn,  luul, 
I  think,  true  men  in  the  main,  though  the  necessity  of  state 
has  sometimes  constrained  them  to  be  dissetnbU>rs.  1  deserve 
some  love  at  their  hand,  for  I  have  voluntarily  done  wliat 
they  could  not  by  arms  have  extorted  from  me,  any  more 
than  from  ray  predecessors  :  I  have  re-establislied  the  for- 
tresses of  Roxburgh  and  Berwick,  which  lay  in  pledge  to 
England  ;  I  have  restored  your  ancient  boundaries  ;  and, 
finallv.  I  have  renounced  a  claim  to  homage  upon  the  crown 
of  England,  which  I  thouglit  unjustly  forced  on  you.  1  have 
endeavored  to  make  honorable  and  independont  friends, 
where  former  kings  of  England  attempted  only  to  compel 
unwilling  and  rebellions  vassals." 

"All  this  you  have  done,  my  Lord  King."  said  Sir  Ken- 
neth, bowing — "  all  this  you  have  done,  by  your  royal  treaty 
with  our  sovereign  at  Canterbury.  Therefore  have  you  me, 
and  many  better  Scottish  men,  making  war  against  the  in- 
fidels, under  your  banners,  who  would  else  have  been  ravag- 
ing your  frontiers  in  England.  If  their  numl)ers  are  now 
few,"  it  is  because  their  lives  have  been  freely  waged  and 
wasted." 

"  I  grant  it  true,"  said  the  King  ;  "  and  for  the  good  offices 
I  have  done  your  land,  I  require  you  to  remember  that,  as  a 
principal  member  of  the  Christian  league,  I  have  a  right  to 
know  the  negotiations  of  my  confederates.  Do  me,  there- 
fore, the  justice  to  tell  me  what  I  have  a  title  to  be  ac- 
quainted with,  and  which  I  am  certain  to  know  more  truly 
from  you  than  from  others." 

"My  lord,"  said  the  Scot,  "  thus  conjured,  I  will  speak 
the  truth  ;  for  I  well  believe  that  your  purposes  towards  the 
principal  object  of  our  expedition  are  single-hearted  and 
honest,  and  it  is  more  than  I  dare  warrant  for  others  of  the 
Holy  League.  Be  pleased,  therefore,  to  know,  my  charge 
was  to  propose,  tlirough  the  medium  of  the  hermit  of  En- 
gftddi,  a  holy  man,  respected  and  protected  by  Saladin  liini- 
self " 

"A  continuation  of  the  truce,  I  doubt  not,"  said  Richard, 
hastily  interrupting  him. 

"  No,  by  St.  Andrew,  my  liege,"  said  the  Scottish  knight ; 
"but  the  establishment  of  a  lasting  peace,  and  the  withdraw- 
ing our  armies  from  Palestine." 

"St.  George  !"  said  Richard,  in  astonishment.     "  111  as  I 

have  justly  thought  of  them,  I  could  not  have  dreamed  they 

would  have  humbled  themselves  to  such  dishonor.     Speak, 

Sir  Kenneth,  with  what  will  did  you  carry  such  a  message  ?" 

7 


98  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

''With  right  good  will,  my  lord/' siiid  Kenneth  ;  "be- 
cause, when  we  had  lost  our  noble  leader,  under  whose  guid-i 
ance  alone  I  looked  for  victory,  I  saw  none  who  could  suc- 
ceed him  likely  to  lead  us  to  conquest,  and  I  accounted  il 
well  in  such  circumstances  to  avoid  defeat." 

"  And  on  what  conditions  was  this  hopeful  peace  to  be! 
contracted  ?"  said  King  Eichard,  painfully  suppressing  thr 
passion  with  which  his  heart  was  almost  bursting. 

"  These  were  not  entrusted  to  me,  my  lord,"  answered  th( 
Knight  of  the  Couchant  Leopard.  "  I  delivered  them  sealec 
to  the  hermit." 

"  And  for  what  hold  you  this  reverend  hermit — for  fool.i 
madman,  traitor,  or  saint  ?"  said  Eichard. 

''  His  folly,  sire,"  replied  the  shrewd  Scottishman,  "  I  hole 
to  be  assumed  to  wun  favor  and  reverence  from  the  Paynimi 
rie,  who  regard  madmen  as  the  inspired  of  Heaven  ;  at  leas  ■ 
it  seemed  to  me  as  exhibited  only  occasionally,  and  not  ai 
mixing,  like  natural  folly,  with  the  general  tenor  of  hii, 
mind." 

"  Shrewdly  replied,"  said  the  monarch,  throwing  himsel:; 
back  on  his  couch,  from  which  he  had  half-raised  himself; 
"Now  of  his  penitence  ?"  ' 

**  His  penitence,"  continued  Kenneth,  '*  appears  to  m\ 
sincere,  and  the  fruits  of  remorse  for  some  dreadful  crime 
for  which  he  seems,  in  his  own  opinion,  condemned  torepro 
bation." 

"  And  for  his  policy  ?  "  said  King  Eichard. 

"  Methinks,  my  lord,"  said  the  Scottish  knight,  "  he  de- 
spairs  of  the  security  of  Palestine,  as  of  his  own  salvation,  b 
any  means  short  of  a  miracle — at  least,  since  the  arm  o; 
Eichard  of  England  hath  ceased  to  strike  for  it." 

''And  therefore  the  coward  policy  of  this  hermit  is  lik 
that  of  these  miserable  princes,  who,  forgetful  of  thai 
knighthood  and  their  faith,  are  only  resolved  and  determine 
when  the  question  is  retreat,  and,  rather  than  go  forwar^ 
against  an  armed  Saracen,  would  trample  in  their  flight  ove' 
a  dying  ally." 

''Might  I  so  far  presume,  my  Lord  King,"  said  the  Scot; 
tish  knight,  "this  discourse  but  heats  your  disease,  th, 
enemy  from  which  Christendom  dreads  more  evil  than  fror 
armed  hosts  of  infidels." 

The  countenance  of  King  Eichard  was,  indeed,  moi' 
flushed,  and  his  actions  became  more  feverishly  vehemen  ^ 
as,  with  clenched  hand,  expanded  arm,  and  flashing  eyes,  li 
seemed  at  once  to  suffer  under  bodily  pain  and  at  the  san: 


THE  TALISMAN  99 

ime  nuder  vexation  of  iniiul,  while  his  higli  spirit  led  him 
0  speak  on,,  as  if  in  contempt  ef  both. 

"  You  can  Hatter,  sir  knight,"  he  said,  "  but  you  escape 
ue  not.  1  must  know  more  from  you  tlian  yuu  liaveyet  told 
ae.     Saw  you  my  royal  consort  when  at  Eugiiddi  ?" 

"To  my  knowledge— no,  my  lord,"  replied  !Sir  Kenneth, 
nth  considerable  perturbation  ;  for  he  remembered  the  mid- 
idght  procession  in  the  chapel  of  the  rocks, 

"  I  ask  you,"  said  the  King,  in  a  sterner  voice,  "  whether 
ou  were  not  in  the  chapel  of  the  Carmelite  nuns  at  Engaddi, 
nd  there  saw  Berengaria,  Queen  of  England,  and  theladies 
f  her  court,  who  went  thither  on  pilgrimage  ?" 

"  My  lord,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  "  I  will  speak  the  truth  as 
n  the  confessional.  In  a  subterranean  chapel,  to  which  the 
Inchorite  conducted  me,  I  beheld  a  choir  of  ladies  do  homage 
|o  a  relic  of  the  highest  sanctity ;  but  as  I  saw  not  their 
aces,  nor  heard  their  voices,  unless  in  the  hymns  which  they 
hanted,  I  cannot  tell  whether  the  Queen  of  England  was  oi 
he  bevy." 

''And  was  there  no  one  of  these  ladies  known  to  yon  ?  " 

Sir  Kenneth  stood  silent. 

"  I  ask  you,"  said  Richard,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow, 
f  as  a  knight  and  a  gentleman— and  I  shall  know^  by  your 
jnswer  how  you  value  either  character — did  you,  or  did  you 
lot,  know  any  lady  amongst  that  band  of  worshipers  ?  " 

"  My  lord,"  said  Kenneth,  not  without  much^  hesitation, 
'I  might  guess." 

j  *■' And  I  also  may  guess,"  said  the  King,  frowning  sternly  ; 
i'but  it  is  enough.  Leopard  as  you  are,  sir  knight,  beware 
iempting  the  lion's  paw.  Harkye,  to  become  enamored  of 
he  moon  would  be  but  an  act  of  folly  ;  but  to  leap  from  the 
[lattlements  of  a  lofty  tower,  in  the  wild  hope  of  coming 
Uthin  her  sphere,  were  self-destructive  madness." 
!  At  this  moment  some  bustling  was  heard  in  the  outer 
ipartment,  and  the  King,  hastily  changing  to  his  mere  nat- 
ural manner,  said,  ''  Enough — begone — speed  to  De  Vaux, 
nd  send  him  hither  with  the  Arabian  physician.  My  life 
lor  the  faith  of  the  Soldan  !  Would  he  but  abjure  his  false 
!:iw,  I  would  aid  him  with  my  sw^ord  to  drive  this  scum  of 
Prench  and  Austrians  from  his  dominions,  and  think  Pales- 
iine  as  well  ruled  by  him  as  when  her  kings  were  anointed  by 
!he  decree  of  Heaven  itself." 

The  Knight  of  tlie  Leopard  retired,  and  presently  after- 
,rards  the  chamberlain  announced  a  deputation  from  the 
louncil,  who  had  come  to  wait  on  the  Majesty  of  England. 


100  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*•  It  is  well  they  allow  that  I  am  living  yet,"  was  hi 
reply.     "  Who  are  the  reverend  ambassadors  ?  " 

"  The  Grand  Master  of  the  Templars  and  the  Marquis  & 
Montserrat." 

"  Our  brother  of  France  loves  not  sick-beds,"  said  Rich 
ard  ;  "  yet  had  Philip  been  ill,  I  had  stood  by  his  couchlon: 
since.     Joceline,  lay  me  the  couch  more  fairly,  it  is  tumble 
like  a  stormy  sea  ;  reach    me   yonder   steel  mirror  ;  pass 
comb  through  my  hair  and  beard — they  look,  indeed,  liker 
lion's  mane  than  a  Christian  man's  locks  ;  bring  water/' 

"  My  lord,'  said  the  trembling  chamberlain,  "  the  leech( 
say  that  cold  water  may  be  fatal."  i 

"  To  the  foul  fiend  with  the  leeches  ! "  replied  the  monarch! 
"  if  they  cannot  cure  me,  think  you  I  will  allow  them  to  toy 
ment  me  ?  There,  then,"  he  said,  after  having  made  hi 
ablutions,  "  admit  the  worshipful  envoys  ;  they  will  now,  i 
think,  scarcely  see  that  disease  has  made  Richard  negligeii 
of  his  person." 

The  celebrated  Master  of  the  Templars  was  a  tall,  thn 
war-worn  man,  with  a  slow  yet  penetrating  eye,  and  a  bro  j 
on  which  a  thousand  dark  intrigues  had  stamped  a  portioi 
of  their  obscurity.  At  the  head  of  that  singular  body,  \> 
whom  their  order  was  everything  and  their  iudividuahi: 
nothing  ;  seeking  the  advancement  of  its  power,  even  at  tl; 
hazard  of  that  very  religion  which  the  fraternity  were  orig.' 
nally  associated  to  protect ;  accused  of  heresy  and  witchcraf : 
although  by  their  character  Christian  priests;  suspected  <■ 
secret  league  with  the  Soldan,  though  by  oath  devoted  to  tb 
protection  of  the  Holy  Temple  or  its  recovery — the  who, 
order,  and  the  whole  personal  character  of  its  commander,  (; 
Grand  Master,  was  a  riddle,  at  the  exposition  of  which  mo : 
men  shuddered.  The  Grand  Master  was  dressed  in  his  whi 
robes  of  solemnity,  and  he  bare  the  abacus,  a  mystic  staff  ■ 
office,  the  peculiar  form  of  which  has  given  rise  to  such  si; 
gular  conjectures  and  commentaries,  leading  to  suspioioi. 
that  this  celebrated  fraternity  of  Christian  knights  were  er' 
bodied  under  the  foulest  symbols  of  paganism. 

Conrade  of  Montserrat  had  a  much  more  pleasing  exterii; 
than  the  dark  and  mysterious  priest-soldier  by  whom  he  w, 
accompanied.  He  was  a  handsome  man  of  middle  age, 
something  past  that  term,  bold  in  the  field,  sagacious 
council,  gay  and  gallant  in  times  of  festivity  ;  but  on  tl 
other  hand,  he  was  generally  accused  of  versatility,  of  a  na 
now  and  selfish  ambition,  of  a  desire  to  extend  his  own  pri^ 
cipality^  without  regard  to  the  weal  of  the  Latin  kingdom 


I  TEE  TALISMAN  101 

?a]estine,  and  of  seeking  his  own  interests  by  private  negoti- 
itions  with  Saladin,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  Christian 
eaguers. 

When  the  usual  salutations  had  been  made  by  these  dig- 
fiitaries,  and  courteously  returned  by  King  Richard,  the 
^larquis  of  Monsterrat  commenced  an  explanation  of  the 
notives  of  their  visit,  sent,  as  he  said  they  were,  by  the 
Inxious  kings  and  princes  who  composed  tlie  council  of  the 
prusaders,  "to  inquire  into  the  health  of  their  magnani- 
jnous  ally,  the  A-aliant  King  of  England.'' 
I  *•■  We  know  the  importance  in  wliich  the  princes  of  the 
jiouncil  hold  our  health/'  rejilied  the  English  king;  "and 
ire  well  aware  how  much  they  must  have  suffered  by  sup- 
bressing  all  curiosity  concerning  it  for  fourteen  days,  for 
iear,  doubtless,  of  aggravating  our  disorder,  by  showing 
iheir  anxiety  regarding  the  event." 

I  The  flow  of  the  Marquis's  eloquence  being  checked,  and 
:ie  himself  thrown  into  some  confusion  by  this  reply,  his 
wore  austere  companion  took  up  the  thread  of  the  con\  er- 
ation,  and,  Avith  as  much  dry  and  brief  gravity  as  was  con- 
istent  with  the  presence  which  he  addressed,  informed  the 
^ing  that  they  came  from  the  council,  to  pray,  in  the  name 
iif  Christendom,  "that  he  would  not  suffer  his  health  to  be 
iampered  with  by  an  infidel  physician,  said  to  be  despatched 
i»y  Saladin,  until  the  council  had  taken  measures  to  remove 
fr  confirm  the  suspicion  which  they  at  present  conceived 
ilid  attach  itself  to  the  mission  of  such  a  person." 
j  "  Grand  Master  of  the  Holy  and  Valiant  Order  of  Knights 
pemplars,  and  you.  Most  Noble  Marquis  of  Montserrat," 
'eplied  Richard,"^  "if  it  please  you  to  retire  into  the  adjoining 
lavilion,  you  shall  presently  see  what  account  we  make  of 
he  tender  remonstrances  of  our  royal  and  princely  colleagues 
p  this  religious  warfare." 

I  The  Marquis  and  Grand  Master  retired  accordingly  ;  nor 
Ud  they  been  many  minutes  in  the  outward  pavilion  when 
ihe  Eastern  physician  arrived,  accompanied  by  tlie  Baron  of 
rilsland  and  Kenneth  of  Scotland.  The  baron,  however, 
i-as  a  little  later  of  entering  the  tent  than  the  otlior  two,  stop- 
ping, perchance,  to  issue  some  orders  to  the  warders  without. 
i  As  the  Arabian  physician  entered,  he  made  his  obeisance, 
liter  the  Oriental  fashion,  to  the  jNIarquisand  Grand  Master, 
I'hose  dignity  was  apparent,  both  from  tlieir  appearance  and 
heir  bearing.  The  Grand  Master  returned  the  salutation 
i?ith  an  expression  of  disdainful  coldness,  the  Marquis  with 
Ihe  popular  courtesy  which  he  habitually  practised  to  men 


103  WAYERLEY  NOVELS 

of  every  rank  and  nation.  There  was  a  pause  ;  for  the  Scot- 
tish knight,  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  De  Vaux,  presumed 
not,  of  his  own  authority,  to  enter  the  tent  of  the  King  of 
Enghmd,  and,  during  this  interval,  the  Grand  ^Master  sternly 
demanded  of  the  Moslem,  ''Iniidel,  hast  thou  the  courage 
to  practise  thine  art  upon  the  person  of  an  anointed  sover- 
eign of  the  Christian  host  ?" 

'•'  The  sun  of  x\llah,"  answered  the  sage,   ''  shines  on  the  , 
Nazarene  as  well  as  on  the  true  believer,  and  His  servant  i 
dare  make  no  distinction  betwixt  them,  when  called  on  to 
exercise  the  art  of  healing." 

"  Misbelieving    Hakim,"   said  the   Grand  Master,    "  05 
whatsoever  they  call  thee  for  an  unbaptized  slave  of  darl 
ness,  dost  thou  well  know  that  thou  shalt  be  torn  asund( 
by  wild  horses  should  King  Richard  die  under  thy  charge  ? 

*'That  were  hard  justice,"  answered  the  physician,  "^'se 
iug  that  I  can  but  use  human  means,  and  that  the  issue 
written  in  the  book  of  light." 

**Nay,  reverend  and  valiant  Grand  Master, '*  said  tl 
Marquis  of  Montserrat,  "  consider  that  this  learned  man 
not  acquainted  with  our  Christian  order,  adopted  in  thefea 
of  God,  and  for  the  safety  of  His  anointed.  Be  it  known  t« 
thee,  grave  physician,  whose  skill  we  doubt  not;  that  youi 
wisest  course  is  to  repair  to  the  presence  of  the  illustrious 
council  of  our  Holy  League,  and  there  to  give  account  anc" 
reckoning  to  such  wise  and  learned  leeches  as  they  shall  nom-j 
inate,  concerning  your  means  of  process  and  cure  of  thi^ 
illustrious  patient ;  so  shall  you  escape  all  the  dangerJ 
which,  rashly  taking  such  a  high  matter  upon  your  sole 
answer,  you  may  else  most  likely  incur." 

"  My  lords,""said  El  Hakim,  "  I  understand  you  well 
But  knowledge  hath  its  champions  as  well  as  your  militar 
art,  nay,  hath  sometimes  had  its  martyrs  as  well  as  religion.! 
I  have  the  command  of  my  sovereign,  the  Soldan  Saludin/ 
to  heal  this  Nazarene  king,  and,  with  the  blessing  of  th( 
Prophet,  I  will  obey  his  commands.  If  I  fail,  ye  weai 
swords  thirsting  for  the  blood  of  the  faithful,  and  1  proifei 
my  body  to  j^our  weapons.  But  I  will  not  reason  with  one 
uncircumcised  upon  the  virtue  of  the  medicines  of  which  '. 
have  obtained  knowledge  through  the  grace  of  the  Prophet 
and  I  pray  you  interpose  no  delay  between  me  and  m; 
office." 

"  Who  talks  of  delay  ?"  said  the  Baron  de  Vaux,  hastil;. 
entering  the  tent ;  '•  we  have  had  but  too  much  already. 
salute  you,  my  Lord  of  Montserrat,  and  you,  valiant  Gran^' 


TBE  TALISMAN  103 

Master.  But  I  must  presently  pass  with  this  learned  phy- 
sician to  the  bedside  of  my  master." 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  Marquis,  in  Norman-French,  or  the 
language  of  Oui,  as  it  was  then  called,  "  are  you  well  advised 
that  we  came  to  expostulate,  on  the  part  of  the  council  of 
the  monarchs  and  princes  of  the  Crusade,  against  the  risk 
of  permitting  an  infidel  and  Eastern  physician  to  tamper 
with  a  health  so  valuable  as  that  of  your  master  King 
Richard  ?" 

"  Noble  Lord  Marquis,"  replied  the  Englishman,  bluntly, 
"  I  can  neither  use  many  words  nor  do  I  delight  in  listening 
to  them,  moreover,  I  am  much  more  ready  to  believe  what 
my  eyes  have  seen  than  what  my  ears  have  heard.  I  am 
satisfied  that  this  heathen  can  cure  the  sickness  of  King 
Richard,  and  I  believe  and  trust  he  will  labor  to  do  so. 
Time  is  precious.  If  Mohammed— may  God's  curse  be  on 
hiii^ ! — stood  at  the  door  of  the  tent,  with  such  fair  nurpose 
as  this  Adonbec  el  Hakim  entertains,  I  would  hold  it  sin 
to  delay  him  for  a  minute.     So,  give  ye  gode'n,  my  lords." 

"  Nay,  but,"  said  Conrade  of  Montserrat,  "  the  King  him- 
self said  we  should  be  present  when  this  same  physician  dealt 
upon  him." 

The  baron  whispered  the  chamberlain,  probably  to  know 
whether  the  Marquis  spoke  truly,  and  then  replied,  "  My 
lords,  if  you  ""ill  hold  your  patience,  you  are  welcome  to 
enter  with  u*  ;  but  if  you  interrupt,  by  action  or  threat,  this 
accomplished  physician  in  his  duty,  be  it  known  that,  with- 
out respect  to  your  high  quality,  I  will  enforce  your  absence 
from  Richard's  tent ;  for  know,  I  am  so  well  satisfied  of  the 
virtue  of  this  man's  medicines,  that  were  Richard  himself  to 
refuse  them,  by  Our  Lady  of  Lanercost,  I  think  I  could  find 
in  my  heart  to  force  him  to  take  the  means  of  his  cure 
whether  he  would  or  no.     Move  onward,  El  Hakim." 

The  last  word  was  spoken  in  the  lingua  franca,  and  in- 
stantly obeyed  by  the  physician.  The  Grand  Master  looked 
grimly  on  the  unceremonious  old  soldier,  but,  on  exchang- 
ing a  glance  with  the  Marquis,  smoothed  his  frowning  brow 
as  well  as  he  could,  and  both  followed  De  Vaux  and  the 
Arabian  into  the  inner  tent,  where  Richard  lay  expecting 
them  with  that  impatience  with  which  the  sick  man  watches 
the  step  of  his  physician.  Sir  Kenneth,  whose  attendance 
seemed  neither  asked  nor  prohibited,  felt  himself  by  the 
circumstances  in  which  he  stood,  entitled  to  follow  these 
high  dignitaries,  but,  conscious  of  his  inferior  power  and 
rank,  remained  aloof  during  the  scene  which  took  place. 


104  n^AVERLEY  NOVELS 

Kichard,  when  they  entered  his  apartment,  immediately 
exchiimed,  "  So  ho  !  a  goodly  fellowship  come  to  see  Richard 
take  his  leap  in  the  dark.  My  noble  allies,  I  greet  you  as 
the  representatives  of  our  assembled  league  ;  Richard  will 
again  be  amongst  you  in  his  former  fashion,  or  ye  shall  bear 
to  the  gi-ave  what  is  left  of  him.  De  Vaux,  lives  he  or  dies 
he,  thou  hast  the  thanks  of  thy  prince.  There  is  yet  another 
— but  this  fever  hath  wasted  my  eyesight.  What,  the  bold 
Scot,  who  would  climb  Heaven  without  a  ladder  ?  He  is  wel- 
come too.     Come,  sir  Hakim,  to  the  work  —  to  the  work." 

The  physician,  who  had  already  informed  himself _  of  the 
various  symptoms  of  the  King's  illness,  now  felt  his  pulse 
for  a  long  time,  and  with  deep  attention,  while  all  around 
stood  silent  and  in  breathless  expectation.  The  sage  next 
filled  a  cup  with  spring  water,  and  dipped  into  it  the  small 
red  purse,  which,  as  formerly,  he  took  from  his  bosom. 
When  he  seemed  to  think  it  sufficiently  medicated,  he  was 
about  to  ofler  it  to  the  sovereign,  who  prevented  him,  by 
saying,  "  Hold  an  instant.  Thou  hast  felt  my  pulse,  let  me 
lay  my  finger  on  thine.  1  too,  as  becomes  a  good  knight, 
know  something  of  thine  art." 

The  Arabian  yielded  his  hand  without  hesitation,  and  his 
long  slender  dark  fingers  were,  for  an  instant,  inclosed,  and 
almost  buried,  in  the  large  enfoldment  of  King  Richard's 

hand.  ,    „      .       ,      t^- 

"His  blood  beats  calm  as  an  infants,'  said  the  King; 
"so  throb  not  theirs  who  poison  princes.  De  Vaux, 
whether  we  live  or  die,  dismiss  this  Hakim  with  honor  and 
safety.  Commend  us,  friend,  to  the  noble  Saladin.  Should 
I  die,  it  is  without  doubt  of  his  faith  ;  should  I  live,  it  will 
be  to  thank  him  as  a  warrior  would  desire  to  be  thanked." 

He  then  raised  himself  in  bed,  took  the  cup  in  his  hand, 
and,  turning  to  the  Marquis  and  the  Grand  Master — "  Mark 
what  I  say,  and  let  my  royal  brethren  pledge  me  in  Cyprus 

wine 'To  the  immortal  honor  of  the  first  Crusader  who 

shall  strike  lance  or  sword  on  the  gate  of  Jerusalem  ;  and  to 
the  shame  and  eternal  infamy  of  whomsoever  shall  turn 
back  from  the  plow  on  which  he  hath  laid  his  hand  !*" 

He  drained  the  cup  to  the  bottom,  resigned  it  to  the 
Arabian,  and  sunk  back,  as  if  exhausted,  upon  the  cushions 
which  were  arranged  to  receive  him.  The  physician,  then, 
with  silent  but  expressive  signs,  directed  that  all  should  leave 
the  tent  excepting  himself  and  De  Vaux,  whom  no  remon- 
strance could  induce  to  withdraw.  The  apartment  was 
cleared  accordingly. 


CHAPTEE  X 

And  now  I  will  vmclasp  a  secret  book, 
And,  to  your  quick-conceiving  discontent, 
I'll  read  you  matter  deep  and  dangerous. 

Henry  IV,  Part  I. 

The  Marquis  of  Montserrat  and  the  Grand  Master  of  the 
Knights  Templar  stood  together  in  the  front  of  the  royal 
pavilion,  within  which  this  singular  scene  had  passed,  and 
beheld  a  strong  guard  of  bills  and  bows  drawn  out  to  form  a 
circle  around  it,  and  keep  at  distance  all  which  might  disturb 
the  sleeping  monarch.  The  soldiers  wore  the  downcast, 
silent,  and  sullen  looks  with  which  they  trail  their  arms  at 
a  funeral  and  stepped  with  such  caution  that  you  could  not 
hear  a  buckler  ring  or  a  sword  clatter,  though  so  many  men 
in  armor  were  moving  around  the  tent.  They  lowered  their 
weapons  in  deep  reverence  as  the  dignitaries  passed  through 
their  files,  but  with  the  same  profound  silence. 

"  There  is  a  change  of  cheer  among  these  island  dogs," 
said  the  Grand  Master  to  Conrade,  when  they  had  passed 
Richard's  Guards.  "  What  hoarse  tumult  and  revel  used  to 
be  before  this  pavilion  !  naught  hut  pitching  the  bar,  hurling 
the  ball,  wrestling,  roaring  of  songs,  clattering  of  wine-pots, 
and  quaffing  of  flagons  among  tiiese  burly  yeomen,  as  if  they 
were  holding  some  country  wake,  with  a  Maypole  in  the 
midst  of  them  instead  of  a  royal  standard." 

"  Mastiffs  are  a  faithful  race,"  said  Conrade;  ''and  the 
King  their  master  has  won  their  love  by  being  ready  to 
wrestle,  brawl,  or  revel  amongst  the  foremost  of  them, 
whenever  the  humor  seized  him." 

**  He  is  totally  compounded  of  humors,"  said  the  Grand 
Master.  "  Marked  you  the  pledge  he  gave  us,  instead  of  a 
prayer,  over  his  grace-cup  yonder  ?  " 

''  He  would  have  felt  it  a  grace-cup,  and  a  well-spiced  one 
too,"  said  the  Marquis,  "were  Saladin  like  any  other  Turk 
that  ever  wore  turban  or  turned  him  to  Mecca  at  call  of  the 
muezzin.  But  he  affects  faith,  and  honor,  and  generosity, 
as  if  it  were  for  an  unbaptized  dog  like  him  to  practise  the 
virtuous  bearing  of  a  Christian  knight.  It  is  said  he  hath 
106 


106  WA  VER LEY  NO VEL S 

applied  to  Richard  to  be  admitted  within  the  pale  of 
chivalry." 

"By  St.  Bernard!**  exclaimed  the  Grand  Master,  "it 
were  time  then  to  throw  off  our  belts  and  spurs,  Sir  Courade, 
deface  our  armorial  bearings,  and  renounce  our  burgonets, 
if  the  highest  honor  of  Christianity  were  conferred  on  an 
unchristened  Turk  of  tenpence." 

"  You  rate  the  Soldan  cheap,"  replied  the  Marquis  ;  "yet, 
though  he  be  a  likely  man,  I  have  seen  a  better  heathen  sold 
for  forty  pence  at  the  bagnio." 

They  were  now  near  their  horses,  which  stood  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  royal  tent,  prancing  among  the  gallant  train 
of  esquires  and  pages  by  whom  they  were  attended,  when 
Conrade,  after  a  moment's  pause,  proposed  that  they  should 
enjoy  the  coolness  of  the  evening  breeze  which  had  arisen, 
and,  dismissing  their  steeds  and  attendants,  walk  homewards 
to  their  own  quarters,  through  the  lines  of  the  extended 
Christian  camp.  The  Grand  Master  assented,  and  they 
proceeded  to  walk  together  accordingly,  avoiding,  as  if  by 
mutual  consent,  the  more  inhabited  parts  of  the  canvass 
city,  and  tracing  the  broad  esplanade  which  lay  between  the 
tents  and  the  external  defenses,  where  they  could  converse 
in  private,  and  unmarked,  save  by  the  sentinels  as  they 
passed  them. 

They  spoke  for  a  time  upon  the  military  points  and  prep- 
arations for  defense  ;  but  this  sort  of  discourse,  in  which 
neither  seemed  to  take  interest,  at  length  died  away,  and 
there  was  a  long  pause,  which  terminated  by  the  Marquis  of 
Montserrat  stopping  short,  like  a  man  who  has  formed  a 
sudden  resolution,  and,  gazing  for  some  moments  on  the 
dark,  inflexible  countenance  of  the  Grand  Master,  he  at 
length  addressed  him  thus  :  "  Might  it  consist  with  your 
valor  and  sanctity,  reverend  Sir  Giles  Amaury,  I  would  pray 
you  for  once  to  lay  aside  the  dark  vizor  which  you  wear  and 
to  converse  with  a  friend  barefaced." 

The  Templar  half-smiled.  "There  are  light-colored 
masks,"  he  said,  "  as  well  as  dark  vizors,  and  the  one  con- 
ceals the  natural  features  as  completely  as  the  other." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  the  Marquis,  putting  his  hand  to  his  chin, 
and  withdrawiug  it  with  tlie  action  of  one  who  unmasks 
himself  ;  "  there  lies  my  disguise.  And  now,  what  think 
you,  as  touching  the  interests  of  your  own  order,  of  the 
prospects  of  this  Crusade  ?" 

"  This  is  tearing  the  veil  from  tni/  thoughts,  rather  than 
exposing  your  own,"  said  the  Grand  Master;  "yet  I  wiU 


THE  TALISMAN  107 

reply  with  a  parable  told  to  me  by  a  santon  of  the  desert. 
*  A  certain  farmer  prayed  to  Heaven  for  rain,  and  murmured 
when  it  fell  not  at  his  need.  To  punish  his  impatience, 
Allah,'  said  the  santon,  '  sent  the  Euphrates  upon  his  farm, 
and  he  was  destroyed  with  all  his  possessions,  even  by  the 
granting  of  his  own  wishes.'" 

"  Most  truly  spoken,"  said  the  Marquis  Conrade  ;  "  would 
that  the  ocean  had  swallowed  up  nineteen  parts  of  the  arma- 
ments of  these  Western  princes  !  What  remained  would 
better  have  served  the  purpose  of  the  Christian  nobles  of 
Palestine,  the  wretched  remnant  of  the  Latin  kingdom  of 
Jerusalem.  Left  to  ourselves,  we  might  have  bent  to  the 
storm,  or,  moderately  supported  with  money  and  troops,  we 
might  have  compelled  Saladin  to  respect  our  valor,  and  grant 
us  peace  and  protection  on  easy  terms.  But,  from  the  ex- 
tremity of  danger  with  which  this  powerful  Crusade 
threatens  the  Soldan,  we  cannot  suppose,  should  it  pass  over, 
that  the  Saracen  will  suffer  any  one  of  us  to  hold  possessions 
or  principalities  in  Syria,  far  less  perm.it  the  existence  of 
the  Christian  military  fraternities,  from  whom  they  have 
experienced  so  much  mischief." 

"Ay,  but,"  said  the  Templar,  "these  adventurous 
Crusaders  may  succeed,  and  again  plant  the  cross  on  the 
bulwarks  of  Zion." 

"And  what  will  that  advantage  either  the  Order  of  the 
Templars  or  Conrade  of  Montserrat  ?"  said  the  Marquis. 

"You  it  may  advantage,"  replied  the  Grand  Master. 
"Conrade  of  Montserrat  might  become  Conrade  King  of 
Jerusalem." 

"That  sounds  Hke  something,"  said  the  Marquis,  "and 
yet  it  rings  but  hollow.  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  might  well 
choose  the  crown  of  thorns  for  his  emblem.  Grand  Master, 
I  will  confess  to  you  I  have  caught  some  attachment  to  the 
Eastern  form  of  government.  A  pure  and  simple  monarchy 
should  consist  but  of  king  and  subjects.  Such  is  the  simple 
and  primitive  structure — a  shepherd  and  his  flock.  All  this 
infernal  chain  of  feudal  dependence  is  artificial  and  so- 
phisticated, and  I  would  rather  hold  the  baton  of  my  poor 
marquisate  with  a  firm  gripe,  and  wield  it  after  my  pleasure, 
than  the  scepter  of  a  monarch,  to  be  in  effect  restrained  and 
curbed  by  the  will  of  as  many  proud  feudal  barons  as  hold 
land  under  the  Assize  of  Jerusalem.*  A  king  should  tread 
freely.  Grand  Master,  and  should  not  be  controlled  by  here  a 
ditch  and  there  a  fence,  here  a  feudal  privilege  and  there  a 
*  See  Assisses  de  Jerusalem.    Note  6. 


103  WAVERLEY  NOVELS  \ 

maii-clad  baron  with  his  sword  in  his  hand  to  maintain  itj  '*'" 
To  sum  the  whole,  I  am  aware  that  Guy  de  Lusiguan's  claims  isflc 
to  the  throne  would  be  preferred  to  mine,  if  Eichard  recovers  ^^^ 
and  has  aught  to  say  in  the  choice."  m.tt 

''Enough,"  said  the  Grand  Master;  "thou  hast  indeed  "^'^ 
convinced  me  of  thy  sincerity.  Others  may  hold  the  same  we 
opinions,  but  few,  save  Conrade  of  Montserrat,  dared  franklj  se 
avow  that  he  desires  not  the  restitution  of  the  kingdom  oi  "' 
Jerusalem,  but  rather  prefers  being  master  of  a  portion  oj 
its  fragments,  like  the  barbarous  islanders,  who  labor  nol 
for  the  deliverance  of  a  goodly  vessel  from  the  billows 
expecting  rather  to  enrich  themselves  at  the  expense  of  the  "Ti 
wreck."  iji 

"Thou  wilt  not  betray  my  counsel  ?"  said  Conrade,  look    Ktl 
ing  sharply  and  suspiciously.     "  Know,  for  certain,  that  mwfiie: 
tongue  shall  never  wrong  my  head,  nor  my  hand  forsake  th"i 
defense  of  either.     Impeach  me  if  thou  wilt  :  I  am  prepare( 
to  defend  myself  in  the  lists  against  the  best  Templar  wh( 
ever  laid  lance  in  rest." 

"  Yet  thou  start'st  somewhat  suddenly  for  so  bold  j 
steed,"  said  the  Grand  Master.  "  However,  I  swear  to  thei 
by  the  Holy  Temple,  which  our  order  is  sworn  to  defend 
that  I  will  keep  counsel  with  thee  as  a  true  comrade." 

"By  which  temple?"  said  the  Marquis  of  Montserrat 
whose  love  of  sarcasm  often  outran  his  policy  and  discretion 
"swearest  thou  by  that  on  the  hill  of  Zion,  which  was  bull 
by  King  Solomon,  or  by  that  symbolical,  emblematical  edi 
fice  which  is  said  to  be  spoken  of  in  the  councils  held  in  th< 
vaults  of  your  preceptories,  as  something  which  infers  th( 
aggrandizement  of  thy  valiant  and  venerable  order  ?" 

The  Templar  scowled  upon  him  with  an  eye  of  death,  bu 
answered  calmly,  "By  whatever  temple  I  swear,  be  assured 
Lord  Marquis,  my  oath  is  sacred.  I  would  I  knew  how  t( 
bind  thee  by  one  of  equal  obligation." 

"I  will  swear  truth  to  thee,  "said  the  Marquis,  laughing 
"  by  the  earl's  coronet,  which  I  hope  to  convert,  ere  thes* 
wars  are  over,  into  something  better.  It  feels  cold  on  m^ 
brow,  that  same  slight  coronal  ;  a  duke's  cap  of  maintenanc* 
were  a  better  protection  against  such  a  night-breeze  as  nov 
blows,  and  a  king's  crown  more  preferable  still,  being  line( 
with  comfortable  ermine  and  velvet.  In  a  word,  our  inter 
ests  bind  us  together  ;  for  think  not.  Lord  Grand  Master 
that,  were  these  allied  princes  to  regain  Jerusalem,  anc 
place  a  king  of  their  own  choosing  there,  they  would  suffe 
your  order,  any  more  than  mj  poor  marquisate,  to  retail 


THE  TALISMAN  109 

the  independence  which  we  now  hold.  N"o,  by  Onr  Lady  ! 
In  such  case,  the  proud  Knights  of  St.  John  must  again 
-spread  plasters  and  dress  plague-sores  in  the  hospitals  ;  and 
you,  most  puissant  and  venerable  Knights  of  the  Temple, 
must  return  to  your  condition  of  simple  men-at-arms,  sleep 
three  on  a  pallet,  and  mount  two  upon  one  horse,  as  your 
present  seal  still  expresses  to  have  been  your  ancient  most 
simple  custom." 

"  The  rank,  privileges,  and  opulence  of  our  order  prevent 
so  much  degradation  as  you  threaten,''  said  the  Templar, 
haughtily. 

"  These  are  your  bane,"  said  Conrade  of  Montserrat  ; 
"and  you,  as  well  as  I,  reverend  Grand  Master,  know  that, 
were  the  allied  princes  to  be  successful  in  Palestine,  it  would 
be  their  first  point  of  policy  to  abate  the  independence  of 
your  order,  which,  but  for  the  protection  of  our  holy  father 
the  Pope,  and  the  necessity  of  employing  your  valor  in  the 
conquest  of  Palestine,  you  would  long  since  have  experienced. 
Give  them  complete  success,  and  you  will  be  flung  aside,  as 
the  splinters  of  a  broken  lance  are  tossed  out  of  the  tilt- 
yard." 

"  There  may  be  truth  in  what  you  say,"  said  the  Templar, 
darkly  smiling  ;  ''but  what  were  our  hopes  should  the  allies 
withdraw  their  forces,  and  leave  Palestine  in  the  grasp  of 
Saladin?" 

''  Great  and  assured,"  replied  Conrade  :  "  the  Soldan 
would  give  large  provinces  to  maintain  at  his  behest  a  body 
of  well-appointed  Prankish  lances.  In  Egypt,  in  Persia,  an 
hundred  such  auxiliaries,  joined  to  his  own  light  cavalry, 
would  turn  the  battle  against  the  most  fearful  odds.  This 
dependence  would  be  but  for  a  time,  perhaps  during  the  life 
of  this  enterprising  Soldan  ;  but  in  the  East,  empires  arise 
like  mushrooms.  Suppose  him  dead,  and  us  strengthened 
with  a  constant  succession  of  fiery  and  adventurous  spirits 
from  Europe,  what  might  we  not  hope  to  achieve,  uncon- 
trolled by  these  monarchs,  whose  dignity  throws  us  at  pres- 
ent into  the  shade,  and,  were  they  to  remain  here  and  suc- 
ceed in  this  expedition,  would  willingly  consign  us  forever 
to  degradation  and  dependence  ?" 

"  You  say  well,  my  Lord  Marquis,"  said  the  Grand 
Master  ;  ''and  your  words  find  an  echo  in  my  bosom.  Yet 
must  we  be  cautious  :  Philip  of  France  is  wise  as  well  as 
valiant." 

"  True,  and  will  be  therefore  the  more  easily  diverted  from 
an  expedition  to  which,  in  a  moment  of  enthusiasm,  or  urged 


^ 


110  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

by  his  nobles,  he  rashly  bound  himself.     He  is  jealous  of  j; 
King  Eichard,  his  natural  enemy,  and  longs  to  return  to 
prosecute  plans  of  ambition  nearer  to  Paris  than  Palestine 
Any  fair  pretense  will  serve  him  for  withdrawing  from  a«u 
scene  in  which  he  is  aware  he  is  wasting  the  force  of  his    ^ 
kingdom/' 

"  And  the  Duke  of  Austria  ?"  said  the  Templar. 

"Oh,  touching  the  Duke/' returned  Conrade,  "his  self 
conceit  and  folly  lead  him  to  the  same  conclusions  as  do 
Philip's  policy  and  wisdom.  He  conceives  himself,  God 
help  the  while,  ungratefully  treated,  because  men's  mouths, 
even  those  of  his  own  tniiinesingers,  are  filled  with  the  praisei 
of  King  Richard,  whom  he  fears  and  hates,  and  in  whose 
harm  he  would  rejoice,  like  those  unbred  dastardly  curs, 
who,  if  the  foremost  of  the  pack  is  hurt  by  the  gripe  of  the 
wolf,  are  much  more  likely  to  assail  the  sufferer  from  behind  "" 
than  to  come  to  his  assistance.  But  wherefore  tell  I  this  to^^ 
thee,  save  to  show  that  I  am  in  sincerity  in  desiring  tha 
this  league  be  broken  up.  and  the  country  freed  of  the» 
great  monarchs  with  their  hosts  ?  And  thou  well  knowestj 
and  hast  thyself  seen,  how  all  the  princes  of  influence  and 
power,  one  alone  exce^ited,  are  eager  to  enter  into  treatj 
with  the  Soldan." 

"I  acknowledge  it,"  said  the  Templar  :  "he  were  blinc  ^■' 
that  had  not  seen  this  in  their  last  deliberations.  But  lifl 
yet  thy  mask  an  inch  higher,  and  tell  me  thy  real  reason  foi 
pressing  upon  the  council  that  Northern  Englishman,  o: 
Scot,  or  whatever  yon  call  yonder  Knight  of  the  Leojaard 
to  carry  their  proposals  for  a  treaty  ?  " 

"There  was  a  policy  in  it,"  replied  the  Italian:  "hii 
character  of  native  of  Britain  was  sufficient  to  meet  wha 
Saladin  required,  who  knew  him  to  belong  to  the  band  o: 
Eichard,  while  his  character  of  Scot,  and  certain  other  per 
sonal  grudges  which  I  wot  of,  rendered  it  most  unlikely  thai 
our  envoy  should,  on  his  return,  hold  any  communicatioij 
with  the  sick-bed  of  Eichard,  to  whom  his  presence  was  evej 
unacceptable."  j 

"  Oh,  too  fine-spun  policy,"  said  the  Grand  Master  ;  "  trus: 
me,  that  Italian  spiders'  webs  will  never  bind  this  unshor]! 
Samson  of  the  isle  ;  well  if  you  can  do  it  with  new  cords,  anJ 
those  of  the  toughest.  See  you  not  that  the  envoy  whor' 
you  have  selected  so  carefully  hath  brought  us,  in  this  phys: 
eian,  the  means  of  restoring  the  lion-hearted,  bull-necke^  jrlltl 
Englishman,  to  jirosecute  liis  Crusading  enterprise ;  anc'  ffkeor 
BO  soon  as  he  is  able  once  more  to  rush  on.  which  of  th' ' 


M 


i 


THE  TALISMAN  111 

princes  dare  hold  back  ?  They  must  follow  him  for  very 
Bhame,  although  they  would  march  under  the  banner  of 
Satan  as  soon. 

"  Be  content,"  said  Conrade  of  Montserrat  ;  "  ere  this 
physician,  if  he  worli  by  anytliing  short  of  miraculous  agency, 
can  accomplish  Kichard's  cure,  it  may  be  j^ossible  to  put 
some  open  rupture  betwixt  the  Frenchman,  at  least  the  Aus- 
trian, and  his  allies  of  England,  so  that  the  breach  shall  be 
irreconcilable  ;  and  Kichard  may  arise  from  his  bed  perhaps 
to  command  his  own  native  troops,  but  never  again,  by  his 
sole  energy,  to  wield  the  force  of  the  whole  Crusade/^ 

"Thou  art  a  willing  archer,"  said  the  Templar  ;  "but, 
Conrade  of  Montserrat,  thy  bow  is  over-slack  to  carry  an 
arrow  to  the  mark." 

He  then  stopped  short,  cast  a  suspicious  glance  to  see  that 
no  one  overheard  him,  and  taking  Conrade  by  the  hand, 
pressed  it  eagerly  as  he  looked  the  Italian  in  the  face,  and 
repeated  slowly  :  "Richard  arise  from  his  bed,  say'st  thou  r 
Conrade,  he  must  never  arise  !" 

The  Marquis  of  Montserrat  started.  "  What  !  spoke  you 
of  Eichard  of  England — of  Coeur-de-Lion — the  champion  of 
Christendom  ! " 

His  cheek  turned  pale  and  his  knees  trembled  as  he  spoke. 
The  Templar  looked  at  him,  with  his  iron  visage  contorted 
into  a  smile  of  contempt. 

"  Know'st  thou  what  thou  look'st  like.  Sir  Conrade,  at 
this  moment  ?  Not  like  the  politic  and  valiant  Marquis  of 
Montserrat — not  like  him  who  would  direct  the  council  of 
princes  and  determine  the  fate  of  empires  ;  but  like  a  novice 
who,  stumbling  upon  a  conjuration  in  his  master's  book  of 
gramarye,  has  raised  the  devil  when  he  least  thought  of  it, 
and  now  stands  terrified  at  the  spirit  which  appears  before 
him." 

" I  grant  you,"  said  Conrade,  recovering  himself,  "that, 
unless  some  other  sure  road  could  be  discovered,  thou  hast 
hinted  at  that  Avhich  leads  most  direct  to  our  purpose.  But. 
blessed  Mary  !  we  shall  become  the  curse  of  all  Europe,  the 
malediction  of  every  one,  from  the  Pope  on  his  throne  to 
the  very  beggar  at  the  church  gate,  who,  ragged  and  leprous, 
in  the  last  extremity  of  human  wretchedness,  shall  bless 
himself  that  he  is  neither  Giles  Amaury  nor  Conrade  of 
Montserrat." 

"  If  thou  takest  it  thus,"  said  the  Grand  Master,  with  the 
same  composure  which  characterized  him  all  through  this 
femarkablo  dialogue,  "  let  us  hold  there  has  nothing  passed 


112  WAVEBLEY  NOVJiLti 

between  us — that  we  have  spoken  in  our  sleep — have  awak* 
ened,  and  the  vision  is  gone." 

"  It  never  can  depart,"  answered  Conrade. 

"  Visions  of  dncal  crowns  and  kingly  diadems  are,  indeed, 
somewhat  tenacious  of  their  place  in  the  imagination,"  re- 
plied the  Grand  Master. 

"  Well,"  answered  Conrade,  "let  me  but  first  try  to  break 
peace  between  Austria  and  England." 

They  parted.     Conrade  remained  standing  still  upon  the 
spot,  and  watching  the  flowing  white  cloak  of  the  Templar, 
as  he  stalked  slowly  away,  and  gradually  disappeared  amid 
the  fast-sinking   darkness   of    the  Oriental  night.     Proud, 
ambitious,  unscrupulous,  and  politic,  the  Marquis  of  Mont- 
serrat  was  yet  not  cruel  by  nature.     He  was  a  voluptuary      _^ 
and  an  epicurean,  and,  like  many  who  profess  this   charac-     pii 
ter,  was  averse,  even  upon  selfish   motives,  from   inflicting 
pain,  or  witnessing  acts  of  cruelty  ;  and  he  retained  also  a 
general  sense  of  respect  for  his  own  reputation,  Avhich  some- 
times supplies  the  want  of  the  better  principle  by  which  ^id 
reputation  is  to  be  maintained. 

"  I  have,"  he  said,  as  his  eyes  still  watched  the  point  at 
which  he  had  seen  the  last  slight  wave  of  the  Templar's 
mantle — "  I  have,  in  truth,  raised  the  devil  with  a  venge-ttited 
ance  !  Who  would  have  thought  this  stern  ascetic  Grand 
Master,  whose  whole  fortune  and  misfortune  is  merged  in 
that  of  his  order,  would  be  willing  to  do  more  for  its  ad- 
vancement than  I  who  labor  for  my  own  interest  ?  To  check 
this  wild  Crusade  was  my  motive,  indeed,  but  I  durst  not 
think  on  the  ready  mode  which  this  determined  priest  has  ^m 
dared  to  suggest ;  yet  it  is  the  surest,  perhaps  even  the 
safest." 

Such  were  the  Marquis's  meditations,  when  his  muttered 
soliloquy  was  broken  by  a  voice  from  a  little  distance,  which 
Ijroclaimed  with  the  emphatic  tone  of  a  herald — "  Remem-j 
ber  the  Holy  Sepulchre  ! "  _         -' 

The  exhortation  was  echoed  from  post  to  post,  for  it  wa« 
the  duty  of  the  sentinels  to  raise  this  cry  from  time  to  time 
upon  their  periodical  watch,  that  the  host  of  the  Crusaders 
might  always  have  in  their  remembrance  the  purpose  oJ 
their  being  in  arms.  But  though  Connide  was  familiar  with 
the  custom,  and  had  heard  the  warning  voice  on  all  formei 
occasions  as  a  matter  of  habit ;  yet  it  came  at  the  preseni; 
moment  so  strongly  in  contact  with  his  own  train  of  thought 
that  it  seemed  a  voice  from  Heaven  warning  him  against  thd 
iniquity  which   his  heart  meditated.     He   looked  arounc 


i 

liisti 
sidi 


THE  TALISMAN  113 

Anxiously,  as  if,  like  tlie  patriarcli  of  old,  though  from  very 
different  circunisUiuces,  he  was  expecting  some  ram  caught 
in  a  thicket — some  substitution  for  the  sacrifice  which  his 
comrade  proposed  to  offer,  not  to  the  Supreme  Being,  but 
to  the  Moloch  of  their  own  ambition.  As  he  looked,  the 
broad  folds  of  the  ensign  of  England,  heavily  distending 
itself  to  the  failing  night-breeze,  caught  his  eye.  It  was 
displayed  upon  an  artificial  mound,  nearly  in  the  midst  of 
the  camp,  which  perhaps  of  old  some  Hebrew  chief  or 
champion  had  chosen  as  a  memorial  of  his  place  of  rest.  If 
so,  the  name  was  now  forgotten,  and  the  Crusadei's  had 
christened  it  St.  George's  Mount,  because  from  that  com- 
manding height  the  banner  of  England  was  super-eminently 
displayed,  as  if  an  emblem  of  sovereignty  over  the  many  dis- 
tinguished, noble,  and  even  royal,  ensigns  which  floated  in 
lower  situations. 

A  quick  intellect  like  that  of  Conrade  catches  ideas  from 
the  glance  of  a  moment.  A  single  look  on  the  standard 
seemed  to  dispel  the  uncertainty  of  mind  wdiich  had  affected 
him.  Ho  walked  to  his  pavilion  with  the  hasty  and  deter- 
mined step  of  one  who  has  adopted  a  plan  which  he  is  re- 
solved to  achieve,  dismissed  the  almost  princely  train  who 
waited  to  attend  him,  and,  as  he  committed  himself  to  his 
couch,  muttered  his  amended  resolution,  that  the  milder 
means  are  to  be  tried  before  the  more  desperate  are  resorted 
to. 

"  To-morrow,"  he  said,  "  I  sit  at  the  board  of  the  Arch- 
duke of  Austria  ;  we  will  see  what  can  be  done  to  advance 
our  purpose,  before  prosecuting  the  dark  suggestions  of  this 
Templar." 


CHAPTER  XI 

One  thing  is  certain  in  our  Northern  land, 
Allow  that  birth,  or  valor,  wealth,  or  wit, 
Give  each  precedence  to  their  possessor, 
Envy,  that  follows  on  such  eminence, 
As  conies  the  lyme-hound  on  the  roebuck's  trace, 
Shall  pull  them  down  each  one. 

Sir  David  Lindsay. 

Leopold,  Grand  Duke  of  Austria,  was  the  first  possessoi 
of  that  noble  country  to  whom  the  princely  rank  belonged. 
He  had  been  raised  to  the  ducal  sway  in  the  German  em- 
pire on  account  of    his  near  relationship  to  the  Emperor, 
Henry  the  Stern,  and  held  under  his  government  the  fin- 
est provinces  which  are  watered  by  the  Danube.     His  char- 
acter has  been  stained    in  history    on    account  of    one  ac-| 
tion  of  violence  and  perfidy,  which  arose  out  of  these  very] 
transactions  in  the  Holy  Land  ;  and  yet  the  shame  of  hav- 
ing made  Richard  a  prisonej',  when    he  returned  throughj 
his  dominions,   unattended  and  in    disguise,   was    not   onej 
which  flowed  from  Leopold's  natural  disposition.     He  was| 
rather  a  weak  and  a  vain  than  an  ambitious  or  tyrannical 
prince.     His  mental  powers  resembled  the  qualities  of  hisj 
person.     He  was  tall,  strong,  and  handsome,  with  a  com- 
plexion in  which  red  and  white  w'ere  strongly  contrasted,! 
and  had  long  flowing  locks  of   fair  hair.     But   there    wasi 
an  awkwardness  in  his  gait,  which  seemed  as   if    his   size! 
was  not  animated    by   energy   suflEicient  to  put  in    motion 
such  a  mass  ;  and  in  the  same  manner,  wearing  the  ricli- 
est  dresses,    it  always  seemed  as  if    they  became  him  not. 
As  a  prince,  he  appeared  too  little  familiar  with  his  own 
dignity,  and  being  often  at  a  loss  how  to  assert  his  author- 
ity when  the  occasion  demanded  it,  he  frequently  thougb.t 
himself  obliged  to  recover,  by  acts  and  expressions  of  ill- 
timed  violence,  the  ground  which  might  have  been  easily 
and  gracefully  maintained  by  a  little  more  presence  of  mind 
in  the  beginning  of  the  controversy. 

Kot  only  were  these  deficiencies  visible    to    others,    bu) 
the  Archduke  himself   could  not  but  sometimes  entertair 
a   painful   consciousness  that  he  was  not  altogether  fit  t( 
U4 


I 


THE  TALISMAN  115 


maintain  and  assert  the  high  rank  which  he  had  acquired  ; 
and  to  this  was  joined  the  strong,  and  sometimes  the  just, 
suspicion  that  others  esteemed  him  lightly  accordingly. 

When  he  first  joined  the  Crusade,  with  a  most  princely 
attendance,  Leopold  had  desired  much  to  enjoy  the  friend- 
ship and  intimacy  of  Richard,  and  had  made  such  advances 
towards  cultivating  his  regard  as  the  King  of  England  ought, 
in  policy,  to  have  received  and  answered.  But  the  Arch- 
duke, though  not  deficient  in  bravery,  was  so  infinitely  in- 
ferior to  Coeur-de-Lion  in  that  ardor  of  mind  which  wooed 
danger  as  a  bride,  that  the  King  very  soon  held  him  in  a 
certain  degree  of  contempt.  Eichard,  also,  as  a  Norman 
prince,  a  people  with  whom  temperance  was  habitual,  de- 
spised the  inclination  of  the  German  for  the  pleasures  of  the 
table,  and  particularly  his  liberal  indulgence  in  the  use  of 
wine.  For  these  and  other  personal  reasons  the  King  of 
England  very  soon  looked  upon  the  Austrian  prince  with 
feelings  of  contempt,  which  he  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal 
or  modify,  and  which,  therefore,  were  speedily  remarked, 
and  returned  with  deep  hatred,  by  the  suspicious  Leopold. 
The  discord  between  them  was  fanned  by  the  secret  and 
politic  arts  of  Philip  of  France,  one  of  the  most  sagacious 
monarchs  of  the  time,  who,  dreading  the  fiery  and  overbear- 
ing character  of  Richard,  considering  him  as  his  natural 
rival,  and  feeling  offended,  moreover,  at  the  dictatorial 
manner  in  which  he,  a  vassal  of  France  for  his  continental 
domains,  conducted  himself  towards  his  liege  lord,  endeav- 
ored to  strengthen  his  own  party,  and  weaken  that  of  Rich- 
ard, by  uniting  the  Crusading  princes  of  inferior  degree  in 
resistance  to  what  he  termed  the  usurping  authority  of  the 
King  of  England.  Such  was  the  state  of  politics  and  opin- 
ions entertained  by  the  Archduke  of  Austria,  when  Courade 
of  Montserrat  resolved  upon  employing  his  jealousy  of  Eng- 
land as  the  means  of  dissolving,  or  loosening  at  least,  the 
league  of  the  Crusaders. 

The  time  which  he  chose  for  his  visit  was  noon,  and  the 
pretense,  to  present  the  Archduke  with  some  choice  Cyprus 
wine  which  had  lately  fallen  into  his  hajids,  and  discuss  its 
comparative  merits  with  those  of  Hungary  and  of  the  Rhine. 
An  intimation  of  his  purpose  was  of  course  answered  by  a 
courteous  invitation  to  partake  of  the  archducal  meal,  and 
every  effort  was  used  to  render  it  fitting  the  splendor  of  a 
sovereign  prince.  Yet  the  refined  taste  of  the  Italian  saw 
more  cumbrous  profusion  than  elegance  or  splendor  in  the 
display  of  provisions  under  which  the  board  groaned. 


116  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

The  Germans,  thongli  still  possessing  the  martial  and  frank 
character  of  their  ancestors,  who  subdued  the  Roman  empire, 
had  retained  withal  no  slight  tinge  of  their  barbarism.  The 
practises  and  i^rinciples  of  chivalry  were  not  carried  to  such 
a  nice  pitch  amongst  them  as  amongst  the  French  and  En- 
glish knights,  nor  were  they  strict  observers  of  the  prescribed 
rules  of  society,  which  among  those  nations  were  supposed 
to  express  the  height  of  civilization.  Sitting  at  the  table  of 
the  Archduke,  Conrade  was  at  once  stunned  and  amused 
with  the  clang  of  Teutonic  sounds  assaulting  his  ears  on  all 
sides,  notwithstanding  the  solemnity  of  a  princely  banquet. 
Their  dress  seemed  equally  fantastic  to  him,  many  of  the 
Austrian  nobles  retaining  their  long  beards,  and  almost  all 
of  them  wearing  short  jerkins  of  various  colors,  cut,  and 
flourished,  and  fringed  in  a  manner  not  common  in  Western 
Europe. 

Numbers  of  dependants,  old  and  young,  attended  in  th( 
pavilion,  mingled  at  times  in  the  conversation,  received  f roir 
tho'r  masters  the  relics  of  the  entertainment,  and  devourec 
them  as  they  stood  behind  the  backs  of  the  company.  Jesters 
dwarf,  and  minstrels  were  there  in  unusual  numbers,  anc 
more  noisy  and  intrusive  than  they  were  permitted  to  be  ii 
better-regulated  society.  As  they  were  allowed  to  share  f  reel^ 
in  the  wine,  which  flowed  round  in  large  quantities,  thei:-,  j.,,,^ 
licensed  tumult  was  the  more  excessive.  iji. 

All  this  while,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  clamor  and  confusioi 
which  would  better  have  become  a  German  tavern  during  i 
fair  than  the  tent  of  a  sovereign  prince,  the  Archduke  wa 
waited  upon  with  a  minuteness  of  form  and  observance  whicl 
showed  how  anxious  he  was  to  maintain  rigidly  the  state  am 
character  to  which  his  elevation  had  entitled  him.  He  waj 
served  on  the  knee,  and  only  by  pages  of  noble  blood,  fe^j 
upon  plate  of  silver,  and  drank  his  Tokay  and  Rhenish  winej  lT 
from  a  cup  of  gold.  His  ducal  mantle  was  splendidlj 
adorned  with  ermine,  his  coronet  might  have  equaled  in  valuj 
a  royal  crown,  and  his  feet,  cased  in  velvet  shoes,  tlie  lengtj 
of  which,  peaks  included,  might  be  two  feet,  rested  upon  \  ||, 
footstool  of  solid  silver.  But  it  served  partly  to  intimate  th|  ^  '^^ 
character  of  the  man,  that,  although  desirous  to  showatterj 
tion  to  the  Marquis  of  Montserrat,  whom  he  had  courteousl, 
placed  at  his  right  hand,  he  gave  much  more  of  his  attentioi 


jlari 

tlat 
ster 
otri 


,  An 


salca. 


:  is,  his  man  of  conversation,  (k  ,  f^ 
stood   behind  the  Duke's  riglj    ^\^\ 


to  his  spruchsprecher,  that  is 
"  sayer  of  sayings,^'  who 
shoulder. 

This  personage  was  well  attired,  in  a  cloak  and  doublet. .| 


iim 


■ 


^'8  do; 


THE  TALISMAN  lit 

3lack  velvet,  the  last  of  which  was  decorated  with  various 
lilver  and  gold  coins,  stitclied  upon  it,  in  memory  of  the 
nunificent  princes  who  had  conferred  them,  and  bearing  a 
ihort  staff,  to  which  also  bunches  of  silver  coins  were 
ittached  by  rings,  which  he  jingled  by  way  of  attracting 
ittention,  when  he  was  about  to  say  anything  which  he 
udged  worthy  of  it.  This  person's  capacity  in  the  howse- 
lold  of  the  Archduke  was  somewhat  betwixt  that  of  a  min- 
ti'el  and  a  counselor  :  he  was  by  turns  a  flatterer,  a  poet,  and 
,n  orator ;  and  those  who  desired  to  be  well  with  the  Duke 
[euerally  studied  to  gain  the  good-will  of  the  spruclispreclier. 

Lest  too  mucli  of  this  officer's  wisdom  should  become  tire- 
ome,  the  Duke's  other  shoulder  was  occupied  by  \\\%lioffnarr , 
r  court  jester,  called  Jonas  Schwanker,  who  made  almost 
s  much  noise  with  his  fool's  cap,  bells,  and  bauble  as  did 
he  orator,  or  man  of  talk,  with  his  jingling  baton. 

These  two  personages  threw  out  grave  and  comic  nonsense 
Iternately,  while  their  master,  laughing  or  applauding 
hem  himself,  yet  carefully  watched  the  countenance  of  his 
oble  guest,  to  discern  what  impressions  so  accomplished  a 
avalier  received  from  this  display  of  Austrian  eloquence  and 
dt.  It  is  hard  to  say  whether  the  man  of  wisdom  or  the 
lan  of  folly  contributed  most  to  the  amusement  of  the  party, 
r  stood  highest  in  the  estimation  of  their  princely  master  ; 
ut  the  sallies  of  both  seemed  excellently  well  received, 
ometimes  they  became  rivals  for  the  conversation,  and 
langed  their  flappers  in  emulation  of  each  other,  with  a 
lost  alarming  contention  ;  but,  in  general,  they  seemed  on 
ich  good  terms,  and  so  accustomed  to  support  each  other's 
lay,  that  \X\q  spruclisineclier  often  condescended  to  follow  up 
le  jester's  witticisms  with  an  explanation,  to  render  them 
lore  obvious  to  the  capacity  of  the  audience  ;  so  that  his 
isdom  became  a  sort  of  commentary  on  the  bufl'oon's 
)lly.  And  sometimes,  in  requital,  the  lioffnarr,  with  a 
ithy  jest,  wound  up  the  conclusion  of  the  orator's  tedious 
arangue. 

Whatever  his  real  sentiments  might  be,  Conrade  took 
special  care  that  his  countenance  should  express  nothing 
ut  satisfaction  with  what  he  heard,  and  smiled  or  applauded 
3  zealously,  to  all  appearance,  as  the  Archduke  himself,  at 
18  solemn  folly  of  the  spruchsiyrecher  and  the  gibbering  wit 
i  the  fool.  In  fact,  he  watched  carefully  until  the  one  or 
ther  should  introduce  some  topic  favorable  to  the  purpose 
hich  was  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

It  was  not  long  ere  the  King  of  England  was  brought  on 


lib  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

the  carpet  by  the  jester,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  consider 
Dickon  of  the  Broom,  wiiich  irreverent  epithet  he  substituted 
for  Eichard  Piantagenet,  as  a  subject  of  mirtli  acceptable 
and  inexhaustible.  The  orator,  indeed,  was  silent,  and  it 
was  only  when  applied  to  by  Conrade  that  he  observed,  ''  The 
genista,  or  broom-plant,  was  an  eni^xem  of  humility  ;  and  it 
would  be  well  when  those  who  wore  it  would  remember  the 
warning.'* 

The  allusion  to  the  illustrious  badge  of  Piantagenet  was 
thus  rendered  sufficiently  manifest,  and  Jonas  Schwanker 
observed  that  "they  who  humbled  themselves  had  beeu 
exalted  with  a  vengeance." 

"■  Honor  unto  whom  honor  is  due,"  answered  the  Mar- 
quis of  Montserrat  :  ''we  have  all  had  some  part  in  these 
marches  and  battles,  and  methinks  other  princes  might  shart 
a  little  in  the  renown  which  Richard  of  England  engrosses 
amongst  minstrels  and  minnesingers.  Has  no  one  of  tlu 
joyeuse  science  here  present  a  song  in  praise  of  the  roya 
Arcliduke  of  Austria,  our  princely  entertainer  ?" 

Three  minstrels  emulously  stepped  forward  with  voice  anc 
harp.  Two  were  silenced  with  difficulty  by  the  sprucli 
sprecher,  who  seemed  to  act  as  master  of  the  revels,  and  w 
hearing  was  at  length  procured  for  the  poet  preferred,  wlnf 
sung,  in  High  German,  stanzas  which  may  be  thus  trau?! 
lated  : — 

"  What  brave  chief  shall  head  the  forces,  ' 

Where  the  red-cross  legions  gather  ? 
Best  of  horsemen,  best  of  liorses. 
Highest  head  and  fairest  feather." 

Here  the  orator,  jingling  his  staff,  interrupted  the  bardi 
intimate  to  the  party,  what  they  might  not  have  inferrc 
from  the  description,  that  their  royal  host  was  the  party  it 
dicated,  and  a  full  crowned  goblet  went  round  to  the  accLi 
mation — "  Roch  lele  der  Herzog  Leopold!" 

Another  stanza  followed  : 

"  Ask  not  Austria  why.  midst  princes, 
Still  her  banner  rises  liighest ; 
Ask  as  well  the  strong-wing'd  eagle, 
Why  to  Heaven  he  soars  the  nighest." 

*'The  eagle,"  said  the  expounder  of  dark  sayings,  "is  t'l 
cognizance  of  our  noble  lord  the  Archduke  —of  his  ro}l 
Grace,  I  would  say — and  the  eagle  flies  tlie  highest  and  nei 
est  to  the  sun  of  ail  the  feathered  creation."  ; 


11 


11 

J 

(Eo 

k 
51 

Ml 
II 


I 


THE  TALISMAN  119 

'•'  The  lion  hath  taken  a  spring  above  the  eagle/'  said  Oon- 
rade,  carelessly. 

The  Archduke  reddened,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  speaker, 
while  the  spritchsprecher  answered,  after  a  minute's  consid- 
eration, *■'  The  Lord  Marquis  will  pardon  me — a  lion  cannot 
fly  above  an  eagle,  because  no  lion  hath  got  wings." 

"  Except  the  lion  of  St.  Mark,"  responded  the  jester. 

''  That  is  the  Venetian's  banner,"  said  the  Duke  ;  "  but 
assuredly  that  amphibious  race,  half  nobles,  half  merchants, 
will  not  dare  to  place  their  rank  in  comparison  with  ours  ?  " 

"  Nay,  it  was  not  of  tlie  Venetian  lion  that  I  spoke,"  said 
the  Marquis  of  Monserrat ;  ''  but  of  the  three  lions  passant 
of  England  ;  formerly,  it  is  said,  tliey  were  leopards,  but  now 
they  are  become  lions  at  all  points,  and  must  take  precedence 
of  beast,  fish,  or  fowl,  or  woe  wortli  the  gainstander." 

"Mean  you  seriously,  my  lord  ?"  said  the  Austrian,  now 
considerably  flushed  with  wine — "  think  yon  that  Eichard  of 
England  asserts  any  pre-eminence  over  the  free  sovereigns 
who  have  been  his  voluntary  allies  in  this  Crusade  ?  " 

"I  know  not  but  from  circumstances,"  answered  Conrade  : 
"yonder  hangs  his  banner  alone  in  the  midst  of  our  camp,  as 
if  he  were  king  and  generalissimo  of  our  whole  Christian 
army." 

"  And  do  you  endure  this  so  patiently,  and  speak  of  it  so 
coldly  ?"  said  the  Archduke. 

'■'  Nay,  my  lord,"  answered  Conrade,  "  it  cannot  concern 
the  poor  Marquis  of  Montserrat  to  contend  against  an  injury 
patiently  submitted  to  by  such  potent  princes  as  Philip  of 
France  and  Leopold  of  Austria.  What  dishonor  you  are 
pleased  to  submit  to  cannot  be  a  disgrace  tome." 

Leopold  closed  his  fist  and  struck  on  the  table  with 
violence. 

*•  I  have  told  Philip  of  this,"  he  said — "  I  have  often  told 
him  that  it  was  our  duty  to  protect  the  inferior  princes 
against  the  usurpation  of  this  islander  ;  but  he  answers  me 
ever  with  cold  respect  of  :.heir  relations  together  as  suzerain 
and  vassal,  and  that  it  were  impolitic  in  him  to  make  an  open 
breach  at  this  time  and  period." 

"The  world  knows  that  Philip  is  wise,"  said  Conrade, 
"and  will  judge  his  submission  to  be  policy.  Yours,  my 
lord,  you  can  yourself  alone  account  for  ;  but  I  doubt  not  you 
have  deep  reasons  for  submitting  to  English  domination." 

"/  submit  !"  said  Leopold,  indignantly — " /,  the  Arch- 
duke of  Austria,  so  important  and  vital  a  limb  of  the  Holy 
Roman   empire — /  gubrait  myself  to  this  king  of  half  an 


120  WA  VEBLET  JV  O VELS 

island — this   grandson    of    a    Norman    bastard !      No,    hi  ■! 

Heaven  !     The  camp,  and  all  Christendom,  shall  see  tliat  1  ''*'" 

know  how  to  right  myself,  and  whether  I  yield  ground  on«  ^^■': 

inch  to  the  English  bandog.     Up,  my  lieges  and  merry  mei  ^y 

— up  and  follow  me  !     We  will — and  that  without  losing  on<  f,'' 

instant — place  the  eagle  of  Austria  where  she  shall  float  a:  '^ 

high  as  ever  floated  the  cognizance  of  king  or  kaiser.''  ^^ . 

With  that  he  started  from  his  seat,  and,  amidst  the  tumult  "'f 

nous  cheering  of  his  guests  and  followers,  made  forthedoo:  f^] 

of  the  pavilion,  and  seized  his  own  banner,   which  stoo(  "''' 

pitched  before  it.  _  f"-' 

"Nay,  my  lord,*'  said  Conrade,  affecting  to  interfere,  *'i  !'"' 

will  blemish  your  wisdom  to  make  an  affray  in  the  camp  a1  ^^ 

this  hour,  and  jjerhaps  it  is  better  to  submit  to  the  usurpa  ,. 

tion  of  England  a  little  longer  than  to "  *'' 

"'Not  an  hour — not  a  moment  longer,"  vociferated  th  "^"' 

Duke  ;  and,  with  the  banner  in  his  hand,  and  followed  b;  ^'^P 

his  shouting  guests  and  attendants,  marched  hastily  to  th  '"!'* 

central  mount,  from  which  the  banner  of  England  floated  '^'^' 

and  laid  his  hand  on  the  standard-spear,  as  if  to  pluck  i  *''^P 

from  the  ground.  ^^^ 

"  My  master — my  dear  master,"  said  Jonas  Schwankei  j"?^ 

throwing  his  arms  about  the  Duke,  "  take  heed — lions  ha\  i"""!' 

teeth "  _  .        .  ^^"^ 

"  And  eagles  have  claws,"  said  the  Duke,  not  relinquisl  ^^f*' 

ing  his  hold  on  the  banner-staff,  yet  hesitating  to  pull  M 

from  the  ground.  ''Itn 

The  speaker  of  sentences,  notwithstanding  such  was  li  i'wi 

occupation,  had,  nevertheless,  some  intervals  of  sound  sens  '^^^ 

He   clashed   his  staff  loudly,  and  Leopold,   as  if  by  habi  i^^'i 

turned  his  head  towards  his  man  of  counsel.  ''Ise! 

"The  eagle  is  king  among  the  fowls  of  the  air,"  said  tl  h^ 

spruchsprecher ,  "  as  is  the  lion  among  the  beasts  of  the  field  ',  gn 

each  has  his  dominion,  separated  as  wide  as  England  ar  [fpar 
Germany  ;  do  thou,  noble  eagle,  no  dishonor  to  the  prince 
lion,  but  let  your  banners  remain  floating  in  peace  side  1 
side." 

Leopold  withdrew  his  hand  from  the  banner-spear,  ai 
looked  round  for  Conrade  of  Montserrat,  but  he  saw  hi 
not ;  for  the  Marquis,  so  soon  as  he  saw  the  mischief  afod^^e 
had  withdrawn  himself  from  the  crowd,  taking  care,  in  t>'!.'""h 
first  place,  to  express  before  several  neutral  persons  his  i- 
gret  that  the  Archduke  should  have  chosen  the  hours  aft' 
dinner  to  avenge  any  wrong  of  which  he  might  think  heh;i 
a  right  to  complain.     Not  seeing  his  guest,  to  whom  .t 


lei{ 
'le 
Eslf. 

lioi 


THE  TALISMAN  121 

jeished  more  particularly  to  have  addressed  liimself,  the  Arcn- 
duke  said  aloud,  that,  having  no  wisli  to  breed  dissension  in  the 
army  of  tlie  Cross,  he  did  but  vindicate  his  own  privileges 
And  right  to  stand  upon  an  equality  with  tlie  King  of  Eng- 
land, without  desiring,  as  he  might  have  done,  to  advance 
his  banner,  which  he  derived  from  emperors,  his  progenitors, 
above  that  of  a  mere  descendant  of  the  Counts  of  Anjou  ; 
and,  in  the  meantime,  he  commanded  a  cask  of  wine  to  be 
brought  hither  and  pierced,  for  regaling  the  bystanders,  who, 
with  tuck  of  drum  and  sound  of  music,  quaffed  many  a 
carouse  round  the  Austrian  standard. 

This  disorderly  scene  was  not  acted  without  a  degree  of 
noise  which  alarmed  the  whole  camp. 

The  critical  hour  had  arrived  at  which  the  physician, 
according  to  the  rules  of  his  art,  had  predicted  that  his  royal 
patient  might  be  awakened  with  safety,  and  the  sponge  had 
been  applied  for  that  purpose  ;  and  the  leech  had  not  made 
many  observations  ere  he  assured  the  Baron  of  Gilsland  that 
the  fever  had  entirely  left  his  sovereign,  and  that,  such  was 
the  happy  strength  of  his  constitution,  it  Avould  not  be  even 
necessary,  as  in  most  cases,  to  give  a  second  dose  of  the  power- 
ful medicine.  Kichard  himself  seemed  to  be  of  the  same 
opinion,  for,  sitting  up  and  rubbing  his  eyes,  he  demanded 
of  De  Vaux  what  present  sum  of  money  was  in  the  royal 
coffers. 

The  Baron  could  not  exactly  inform  him  of  the  amount. 

*'It  matters  not,"  said  Richard  ;  "  be  it  greater  or  smaller, 
bestow  it  all  on  this  learned  leech,  who  hath,  I  trust,  given 
me  back  again  to  the  service  of  the  Crusade.  If  it  be  less 
than  a  thousand  byzants,  let  him  have  jewels  to  make  it  up." 

"  I  sell  not  the  wisdom  with  which  Allah  has  endowed 
me,"  answered  the  Arabian  physician  ;  "  and  be  it  known  to 
you,  great  prince,  that  the  divine  medicine  of  which  you 
have  partaken  would  lose  its  effects  in  my  unworthy  hands, 
did  1  exchange  its  virtues  either  for  gold  or  diamonds." 

_*'The  physician  refuseth  a  gratuity  !*' said  De  V^aux  to 
himself.  "This  is  more  extraordinary  than  his  being  an 
hundred  years  old." 

"  Thomas  De  Vaux,"  said  Richard,  "  thou  knowest  no 
courage  but  what  belongs  to  the  sword,  no  bounty  or  virtue 
bat  what  are  used  in  chivalry  ;  I  tell  thee  that  th'is  Moor,  in 
his  independence,  might  set  an  example  to  them  who  account 
themselves  the  flower  of  knighthood," 

"It  is  reward  enough  for  me,"  said  the  Moor,  folding  his 
arms  on  his  bosom,  and  maintaining  an  attitude   at  once 


122  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

respectful  and  dignified,  "  that  so  great  a  king  as  the  MekcW 
Ric*  should  thus  speak  of  his  servant.  But  now,  let  mt] 
pray  you  again  to  compose  yourself  on  your  couch  ;  foij 
though  I  think  there  needs  no  farther  repetition  of  thedivincj 
draught,  yet  injury  might  ensue  from  any  too  early  exertion 
ere  your  strength  be  entirely  restored." 

"  1  must  obey  thee,  Hakim,"  said  the  King  ;  ''yet,  believe 
me,  my  bosom  feels  so  free  from  the  wasting  fire  which  foi 
so  many  days  hath  scorched  it  that  I  care  not  how  soon  ] 
expose  it  to  a  brave  man's  lance.  But  hark  !  what  meaci 
these  shouts  and  that  distant  music  in  the  camp  ?  Go, 
Thomas  de  Vaux,  and  make  inquiry." 

"  It  is  the  Archduke  Leopold,"  said  De  Yaux,  returning 
after  a  minute's  absence,  "who  makes  with  his  pot-compan- 
ions some  jDrocession  thronr  h  the  camp." 

"  The  drunken  fool !"  exclaimed  King  Richard,  "can  he 
not  keep  his  brutal  inebriety  within  the  veil  of  his  pavilion 
that  he  must  needs  show  his  shame  to  Christendom  ? 
What  say  you,  sir  Marquis  ?"  he  added,  addressing  himself 
to  Conrade  of  Montserrat,  who  at  that  moment  entered  the 
tent. 

"  Thus  much,  honored  prince,"  answered  tlie  Marquis, 
"  that  I  delight  to  see  your  Majesty  so  well  and  so  far  re- 
covered ;  and  that  is  a  long  speech  for  any  one  to  make  who 
has  partaken  of  the  Duke  of  Austria's  hospitality." 

"  What !  you  have  been  dining  with  the  Teutonic  wine 
skin,"  said  the  monarch  ;  "and  what  frolic  has  he  found  out 
to  cause  all  this  disturbance  ?  Truly,  Sir  Conrade,  I  hare 
still  held  you  so  good  a  reveler,  that  1  wonder  at  your  quit- 
ting the  game." 

De  Vaux,  who  had  got  a  little  behind  the  King,  now 
exerted  himself,  by  look  and  sign,  to  make  the  Marquis 
understand  that  he  should  say  notliing  to  Richard  of  what  was 
passing  without. 

But  Conrade  understood  not,  or  heeded  not,  the  prohibi 
tion.  "What  the  Archduke  does,"  he  said,  "is  of  little 
consequence  to  any  one,  least  of  all  to  himself,  since  he; - 
probably  knows  not  what  he  is  acting  ;  yet,  to  say  truth,  it 
is  a  gambol  I  should  not  like  to  share  in,  since  he  is  pulling 
down  the  banner  of  England  from  St.  George's  Mount  in  the 
center  of  the  camp  yonder,  and  displaying  his  own  in  its 
Stead.'* 

"What  say'st  thou?"  exclaimed  the  King,  in  a  tone 
which  might  have  waked  the  dead. 

*  Richard  was  thus,  called  by  the  Eastern  nations. 


THE  TALISMAN  123 

"  N"ay,"  said  the  Marquis,  '*  let  it  not  chafe  your  Highness 
that  a  fool  should  act  according  to  his  folly " 

"  Speak  not  to  me,"  said  Richard,  springing  from  his  couch, 
and  casting  on  his  clothes  with  a  despatch  which  seemed 
marvelous — "  speak  not  to  me,  Lord  Marquis  !  De  Multon, 
I  command  thee  speak  not  a  word  to  me :  he  that  breathes 
but  a  syllable  is  no  friend  to  Richard  Plantagenet.  Hakim, 
be  silent,  I  charge  thee  ! '' 

All  this  while  the  King  was  hastily  clothing  himself,  and, 
with  the  last  word,  snatched  his  sword  from  the  pillar  of 
the  tent,  and  without  any  other  weapon,  or  calling  any  at- 
tendance, he  rushed  out  of  his  pavilion.  Conrade,  holding 
up  his  hands,  as  if  in  astonishment,  seemed  willing  to  enter 
into  conversation  with  De  Vaux,  but  Sir  Thomas  pushed 
rudely  past  him,  and  calling  to  one  of  the  royal  equerries, 
said  hastily,  "Fly  to  Lord  Salisbury's  quarters,  and  let  him 
get  his  men  together,  and  follow  me  instantly  to  St.  George's 
Mount.  Tell  him  the  King's  fever  has  left  his  blood  and 
settled  in  his  brain.'* 

Imperfectly  heard,  and  still  more  imperfectly  compre- 
hended, by  the  startled  attendant  whom  De  Vaux  addressed 
thus  hastily,  the  equerry  and  his  fellow-servants  of  the  royal 
chamber  rushed  hastily  into  the  tents  of  the  neighboring 
nobility,  and  quickly  spread  an  alarm,  as  general  as  the 
cause  seemed  vague,  through  the  whole  British  forces.  The 
English  soldiers,  waked  in  alarm  from  that  noonday  rest 
which  the  heat  of  the  climate  had  taught  them  to  enjoy  as  a 
luxury,  hastily  asked  each  other  the  cause  of  the  tumult, 
and,  without  waiting  an  answer,  supplied  by  the  force  of  their 
own  fancy  the  want  of  information.  Some  said  the  Saracens 
iwere  in  the  camp,  some  that  the  King's  life  was  attempted, 
some  that  he  had  diedof  the  fever  the  preceding  night,  many 
ithat  he  was  assassinated  by  the  Duke  of  Austria.  The  nobles 
and  officers,  at  an  equal  loss  with  the  common  men  to  ascer- 
tain the  real  couse  of  the  disorder,  labored  only  to  get  their 
followers  under  arms  and  under  authority,  lest  their  rashness 
should  occasion  some  great  misfortune  to  the  Crusading 
;irmy.  The  English  trumpets  sounded  loud,  shrill,  and  con- 
anuously.  The  alarm-cry  of  "  Bows  and  bills — bows  and 
Dills  1 "  was  heard  from  quarter  to  quarter,  again  and  again 
houted,  and  again  and  again  answered  by  the  presence  of 
he  ready  warriors,  and  their  national  invocation,  "  St. 
leorge  for  merry  England  ! " 

The  alarm  went  through  the  nearest  quarter  of  the  camp, 
nd  men  of  all  the  various  nations  assembled,  where,  perhaps, 

i 


124  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

every  people  in  Cliristendotn  had  their  representatives,  flew 
to  arms,  and  drew  together  under  circumstances  of  general 
confusion,  of  which  they  knew  neither  the  cause  nor  the  ob- 
ject. It  was,  however,  lucky,  amid  a  scene  so  threatening, 
that  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  while  he  hurried  after  De  Vaux's 
summons,  with  a  few  only  of  the  readiest  English  men-at-arms, 
directed  the  rest  of  the  English  host  to  be  drawn  up  and 
kept  under  arms,  to  advance  to  Richard's  succor  if  necessity 
should  require  it,  but  in  fit  array,  and  under  due  command, 
and  not  with  the  tumultuary  haste  which  their  own  alarm, 
and  zeal  for  the  King's  safety,  might  have  dictated. 

In  the  meanwhile,  without  regarding  for  one  instant  the 
shouts,  the  cries,  the  tumult  which  began  to  thicken  around 
him,  Richard,  with  his  dress  in  the  last  disorder,  and  his 
sheathed  blade  under  his  arm,  pursued  his  way  with  the  ut- 
most speed,  followed  only  by  De  Vauxand  one  or  two  house- 
hold servants,  to  St.  George's  Mount. 

He  outsped  even  the  alarm  which  his  impetuosity  only 
had  excited,  and  passed  the  quarter  of  his  own  gallant  troops 
of  Normandy,  Poitou,  Gascony,  and  Anjou  before  the  dis- 
turbance had  reached  them,  although  tlie  noise  accompany- 
ing the  German  revel  had  induced  many  of  the  soldiery  to 
get  on  foot  to  listen.  The  handful  of  Scots  were  also  quar- 
tered in  the  vicinity,  nor  had  they  been  disturbed  by  the  up- 
roar. But  the  King's  person  and  his  haste  were  both  re- 
marked by  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard,  who,  aware  that  dan- 
ger must  be  afoot,  and  hastening  to  share  in  it,  snatched  his 
shield  and  sword  and  united  himself  to  De  Vaux,  who  with 
some  difficulty  kept  pace  with  his  impatient  and  fiery  mas- 
ter. De  Vaux  answered  a  look  of  curiosity  which  the 
Scottish  knight  directed  towards  him  with  a  shrug  of  his 
broad  shoulders,  and  they  continued,  side  by  side,  to  pursue 
Richard's  steps. 

The  King  was  soon  at  the  foot  of  St.  George's  Mount,  the 
sides  as  well  as  platform  of  which  were  now  surrounded  and 
crowded,  partly  by  those  belonging  to  the  Duke  of  Austria's 
retinue,  who  were  celebrating,  with  shouts  of  jubilee,  the 
act  which  they  considered  as  an  assertion  of  national  honor  ; 
partly  by  bystanders  of  different  nations,  wdiom  dislike  to  the 
English,  or  mere  curiosity,  had  assembled  together  to  witness 
the  end  of  these  extraordinary  proceedings.  Through  this 
disorderly  troop  Richard  burst  his  way,  like  a  goodly  ship 
under  full  sail,  which  cleaves  her  forcible  passage  through 
the  rolling  billows,  and  heeds  not  that  they  unite  after  her 
pasgage  and  roar  upon  her  stern. 


THE  TALIS3IAN  125 

The  summit  of  the  eminence  was  a  small  level  space,  on 
which  were  pitched  the  rival  banners,  surrounded  still  by  the 
Archduke's  friends  and  retinue.  In  the  midst  of  the  circle 
was  Leopold  himself,  still  contemplating  with  self-satisfac- 
tion the  deed  he  had  done,  and  still  listening  to  the  shouts 
of  applause  which  his  partizans  bestowed  Avith  no  sparing 
breath.  "While  he  was  in  this  state  of  self-gratulation, 
Kichard  burst  into  the  circle,  attended,  indeed,  only  by  two 
men,  but  in  his  own  headlong  energies  an  irresistible  host. 

"Who  has  dared,"  he  said,  laying  his  hands  upon  the 
Austrian  standard,  and  speaking  in  a  voice  like  the  sound 
which  precedes  an  earthquake — "  who  has  dared  to  place 
this  paltry  rag  beside  the  banner  of  England  ?  " 

The  Archduke  wanted  not  personal  courage,  and  it  was 
impossible  he  could  hear  this  question  without  reply.  Yet, 
so  much  was  he  troubled  and  surprised  by  the  unexpected 
arrival  of  Eichard,  and  affected  by  the  general  awe  inspired 
by  his  ardent  and  unyielding  character,  that  the  demand 
was  twice  repeated,  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  challenge 
heaven  and  earth,  ere  the  Archduke  replied,  with  such  firm- 
ness as  he  could  command,  "'  It  was  I,  Leopold  of  Austria." 

"  Then  shall  Leopold  of  Austria,"  replied  Richard,  "  pres- 
ently see  the  rate  at  which  his  banner  and  his  pretensions 
are  held  by  Richard  of  England." 

So  saying,  he  pulled  up  the  standard-spear,  splintered  it 
to  pieces,  threw  the  banner  itself  on  the  ground,  and  placed 
his  foot  upon  it. 

"  Thus,"  said  he,  "I  trample  on  the  banner  of  Austria  ! 
Is  there  a  knight  among  your  Teutonic  chivalry  dare  im- 
I  peach  my  deed  ?  " 

:     There  was  a  momentary  silence  ;  but  there  are  no  braver 
imen  than  the  Germans. 

"I!"  and  "I!"  and  "I!"  was  heard  from  several 
iknights  of  the  Duke's  followers  ;  and  he  himself  added  his 
voice  to  those  which  accepted  the  King  of  England's  defiance. 

"■  Why  do  we  dally  thus  ?"  said  the  Earl  Wallenrode,  a 
gigantic  warrior  from  the  frontiers  of  Hungary.  "  Brethren 
and  noble  gentlemen,  this  man's  foot  is  on  the  honor  of  your 
country.  Let  us  rescue  it  from  violation,  and  down  with 
the  pride  of  England  ! " 

So  saying,  he  drew  his  sword  and  struck  at  the  King  a 
blow  which  might  have  proved  fatal,  had  not  the  Scot  in- 
itercepted  and  caught  it  upon  his  shield. 
,    "  I  have  sworn,"  said  King  Richard,  and  his  voice  was 
leard  above  all  the  tumult,  which  now  waxed  wild  and  loud, 


126  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  never  to  strike  one  whose  shoulder  bears  the  cross  ;  there- 
fore live,  Wallenrode,  but  live  to  remember  Richard  of 
England/' 

As  he  spoke,  he  grasped  the  tall  Hungarian  round  the 
waist,  and,  unmatched  in  wrestling  as  in  other  military  exer- 
cises, hurled  him  backwards  with  sucli  violence  that  the  mass 
flew,  as  if  discharged  from  a  military  engine,  not  only  throiigh 
the  ring  of  spectators  who  witnessed  the  extraordinary 
scene,  but  over  the  edge  of  the  mount  itself,  down  the  steep 
side  of  which  "Wallenrode  rolled  headlong,  until,  pitching 
at  length  upon  his  shoulder,  he  dislocated  the  bone,  and  lay 
like  one  dead.  This  almost  supernatural  display  of  strength 
did  not  encourage  either  the  Duke  or  any  of  his  followers  to 
renew  a  personal  contest  so  inauspiciously  commenced. 
Those  who  stood  farthest  back  did,  indeed,  clash,  their 
swords  and  cry  out,  ''  Cut  the  island  mastiff  to  pieces  ! '" 
but  those  who  were  nearer  veiled,  perhaj^s,  their  personal 
fears  under  an  affected  regard  for  order,  and  cried,  for  the 
most  part,  ''  Peace — peace — the  peace  of  the  Cross — the 
peace  of  Holy  Church  and  our  Father  the  Pope  I  " 

These  various  cries  of  the  assailants,  contradicting  each 
other,  showed  their  irresolution  ;  while  Eichard,  his  fool 
still  on  the  archducal  banner,  glared  round  him,  with  an 
eye  that  seemed  to  seek  an  enemy,  and  from  which  the  angry 
nobles  shrunk  appalled,  as  from  the  threatened  grasp  of  a 
lion.  De  Vaux  and  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard  kept  theii 
places  beside  him  ;  and  though  tlie  swords  which  they  held 
were  still  sheathed,  it  was  plain  that  they  were  jirompt  to 
protect  Richard's  person  to  the  very  last,  and  their  size  and 
remarkable  strength  plainly  showed  the  defense  Avould  be 
a  desperate  one. 

Salisbury  and  his  attendants  were  also  now  drawing  near, 
with  bills  and  partizans  brandished,  and  bows  already  bended. 

At  this  moment  King  Philip  of  France,  attended  by  one 
or  two  of  his  nobles,  came  on  the  platform   to  inquire  the 
cause  of  the  disturbance,  and  made  gestures  of  surprise  at 
finding  the  King  of  England  raised  from  his  sick-bed,  and 
confronting  their  common  ally  the  Duke  of  Austria  in  such 
a  menacing  and  insulting  posture.     Richard  hinself  bhished 
at  being  discovered  by  Philip,  whose  sagacity  he  respected 
as  much  as  he  disliked  his  person,   in  an  attitude  neither  . 
becoming  his  character  as  a  monarch   nor  as  a  Crusader  jj»i 
and  it  was  observed  that  he  withdrew  his  foot,  as  if  accident- 'x- 
ally,  from  tlie  dishonored  banner,  and  exchanged  his  look  of 
violent  emotion  for  one  of  affected  composure  and  indiffer- 


TBE  TALISMAN  127 

ence.  Leopold  also  struggled  to  attain  some  degree  of 
calmness,  mortified  as  lie  was  by  having  been  seen  by  Pliilip 
in  the  act  of  passively  submitting  to  the  insults  of  the  fiery 
King  of  England. 

Possessed  of  many  of  those  royal  qualities  for  which  he 
was  termed  by  his  subjects  "  the  august,"  Philip  might  be 
termed  the  Ulysses,  as  Richard  was  indisputably  the  Achilles, 
of  the  Crusade,  The  King  of  Prance  was  sagacious,  wise, 
deliberate  in  council,  steady  and  calm  in  action,  seeing 
clearly,  and  steadily  pursuing,  the  measures  most  for  the 
interest  of  his  kingdom,  dignified  and  royal  in  his  deport- 
ment, brave  in  person,  but  a  politician  rather  than  a  warrior. 
The  Crusade  would  have  been  no  choice  of  his  own,  but  the 
spirit  was  contagions,  and  the  expedition  was  enforced  upon 
him  by  the  church,  and  by  the  unanimous  wish  of  his 
nobility.  In  any  other  situation,  or  in  a  milder  age,  his 
character  might  have  stood  higher  than  tliat  of  the  ad- 
venturous Coeur-de-Lion  ;  but  in  the  Crusade,  itself  an 
undertaking  wholly  irrational,  sound  reason  was  the  qualit}^ 
of  all  others,  least  estimated,  and  the  chivalric  valor  wliich 
both  the  age  and  the  enterprise  demanded  was  considered 
as  debased  if  mingled  wath  the  least  touch  of  discretion. 
So  that  the  merit  of  Philip,  compared  with  that  of  his 
haughty  rival,  showed  like  the  clear  but  minute  flame  of  a 
lamp,  placed  near  the  glare  of  a  huge  blazing  torch,  which, 
not  possessing  half  the  utility,  makes  ten  times  more  impres- 
sion on  the  eye.  Philip  felt  his  inferiority  in  public  opinion, 
with  the  pain  natural  to  a  high-spirited  prince  ;  and  it 
cannot  be  wondered  at  if  he  took  such  opportunities  as 
offered  for  placing  his  own  character  in  more  advantageous 
contrast  with  that  of  his  rival.  The  jDresent  seemed  one  of 
those  occasions  in  wdiich  prudence  and  calmness  might 
reasonably  expect  to  triumph  over  obstinacy  and  impetuous 
violence. 

"  What  means  this  unseemly  broil  betwixt  the  sworn 
brethren  of  the  Cross — the  royal  Majesty  of  England  and 
the  princely  Duke  Leopold  ?  How  is  it  possible  that 
those  who  are  the  chiefs  and  pillars  of  this  holy  expedi- 
tion  " 

"  K  truce  with  thy  remonstrance,  France,"  said  Eichard, 
enraged  inwardly  at  finding  himself  placed  on  a  sort  of 
equality  with  Leopold,  yet  not  knowing  how  to  resent  it, 
"  this  duke,  or  prince,  or  pillar,  if  you  will,  hath  been 
insolent,  and  I  have  chastised  him — that  is  all.  Here  is  a 
coil,  forsooth,  because  of  spurning  a  hound  ! " 


128  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*' Majesty  of  France,"  said  the  Duke,  "I  appeal  to  you 
and  every  sovereign  prince  against  the  foul  indignity  which 
I  have  sustained.  This  King  of  England  hath  pulled  dowu 
my  banner,  torn,  and  trampled  on  it." 

"  Because  he  had  the  audacity  to  plant  it  beside  mine,"' 
said  Eichard. 

"  My  rank  as  thine  equal  entitled  me,"  replied  the  Duke 
emboldened  by  the  presence  of  Philip. 

"  Assert  such  equality  for  thy  person,"  said  King  Rich 
ard,  *'  and,  by  St.  George,  I   will  treat  thy  person  as  I  did 
thy  broidered  kerchief  there,  fit  but  for  the  meanest  use  toi 
which  kerchief  may  be  put." 

"  Nay,  but  patience,  brother  of  England,"  said  Philip, 
''and  I  will  presently  show  Austria  that  he  is  wrong  in  thii 
matter.  Do  not  think,  noble  Duke,"  he  continued,  ''that 
in  permitting  the  standard  of  England  to  occupy  the  highes' 
point  in  our  camp,  we,  the  independent  sovereigns  of  the 
Crusade,  acknowledge  any  inferiority  to  the  royal  Richard, 
It  were  inconsistent  to  think  so  ;  since  even  the  oriflammi 
itself — the  great  banner  of  France,  to  which  the  royal  Rich- 
ard himself,  in  respect  of  his  French  possessions,  is  but 
vassal — holds  for  the  present  an  inferior  place  to  the  lions  oi 
England.  But  as  sworn  brethren  of  the  Cross,  military 
pilgrims,  who,  laying  aside  the  pomp  and  pride  of  thu 
world,  are  hewing  with  our  swords  the  way  to  the  Holj 
Sepulchre,  I  myself,  and  the  other  princes,  have  renouncec 
to  King  Richard,  from  respect  to  his  high  renown  and  greai 
feats  of  arms,  that  precedence  which  elsewhere,  and  upon 
other  motives,  would  not  have  been  yielded.  I  am  satisfied 
that,  when  your  royal  grace  of  Austria  shall  have  considerec 
this,  you  will  express  sorrow  for  having  placed  your  bannei 
on  this  spot,  and  that  the  royal  Majesty  of  England  wil 
then  give  satisfaction  for  the  insult  he  has  offered." 

The  sjn'uchsprecher  and  the  jester  had  both  retired  to 
safe  distance  when  matters  seemed  coming  to  blows,  but  re 
turned  when  words,  their  own  commodity,  seemed  agah 
about  to  become  the  order  of  the  day.  _ ; 

The  man  of  proverbs  was  so  delighted  witli  Philip's  politic 
speech,  that  he  claslied  his  baton  at  the  conclusion,  by  waj 
of  emphasis,  and  forgot  the  presence  in  which  he  was  so  fal 
as  to  say  aloud,  that  he  himself  had  never  said  a  wiser  thin| 
in  his  life. 

"  It  may  be  so,"  whispered  Jonas  Schwanker,  "butwt 
shall  be  whipt  if  you  speak  so  loud." 

The  Duke   answered  sullenly,   that   he   would   refer  his 


THE  TALISMAN  129 

quarrel  to  the  general  council  of  tlie  Crusade — a  motion 
which  Philip  highly  applauded,  as  qualified  to  take  awa}^  a 
scandal  most  harmful  to  Christendom. 

Richard,  retaining  the  same  careless  attitude,  listened  to 
Philip  until  his  oratory  seemed  exhausted,  and  then  said 
aloud,  '"I  am  drowsy,  this  fever  hangs  about  me  still. 
Brother  of  France,  thou  art  acquainted  with  my  humor,  and 
that  I  have  at  all  times  but  few  words  to  spare  ;  know,  there- 
fore, at  once,  I  will  submit  a  matter  touching  the  honor  of 
England  neither  to  prince,  pope,  nor  council.  Here  stands 
my  banner ;  whatsoever  pennon  shall  be  reared  within  three 
butts'  length  of  it — ay,  were  it  the  oriflamme,  of  which  you 
were,  I  think,  but  now  speaking — shall  be  treated  as  that 
dishonored  rag ;  nor  will  I  yield  other  satisfaction  than  that 
which  these  poor  limbs  can  render  in  the  lists  to  any  bold 
challenge — ay,  were  it  against  five  champions  instead  of 
one." 

"  Now,"  said  the  jester,  whispering  his  companion,  "  that 
is  as  complete  a  piece  of  folly  as  if  1  myself  had  said  it ;  but 
yet,  I  think,  there  may  be  in  this  matter  a  greater  fool  than 
Richard  yet." 

"And  who  may  that  be  ?"  asked  the  man  of  wisdom. 

"  Philip,"  said  the  jester,  "  or  our  own  Royal  Duke,  should 
either  accept  the  challenge.  But  oh,  most  sage  sprnch- 
sprecher,  wdiat  excellent  kings  would  thou  and  I  have  made, 
since  those  on  whose  heads  these  crowns  have  fallen  can  play 
the  proverb-monger    and    the   fool   as    completely  as   our- 


swered  calmly  to  the  almost  injurious  defiance  of  Richard, 
"  I  came  not  hither  to  awaken  fresh  quarrels,  contrary  to 
the  oath  we  have  sworn  and  the  holy  cause  in  which  we  have 
engaged.  I  part  from  my  brother  of  England  as  brothers 
should  part,  and  the  only  strife  between  the  lions  of  Eng- 
land and  the  lilies  of  France  shall  be,  Avhich  shall  be  carried 
deepest  into  the  ranks  of  the  infidels." 

"  It  is  a  bargain,  my  royal  brother,"  said  Richard,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  with  all  the  frankness  which  belonged  to  his 
rash  but  generous  disposition  ;  ''and  soon  may  we  have  the 
opportunity  to  try  this  gallant  and  fraternal  wager." 

"  Let  this  noble  Duke  also  partake  in  tlie  friendship  of 
this  happy  moment,"  said  Philip  ;  and  the  Duke  approached, 
half-sullenly,  half-willing  to  enter  into  some  accommoda- 
tion. 

"  I  think  not  of  fools,  nor  of  their  folly,"  said  Richard, 

g 


180  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

carelessly  ;  and  the  Archduke,  turning  his  back  on  him, 
withdrew  from  the  ground. 

Richard  looked  after  him  as  he  retired.  *'  There  is  a  sort 
of  a  glow-worm  courage/'  he  said,  "  that  shows  only  by 
night.  I  must  not  leave  this  banner  unguarded  in  darkness  ; 
by  daylight  the  look  of  the  lions  will  alone  defend  it.  Here, 
Thomas  of  Gilsland,  I  give  thee  the  charge  of  the  standard — 
watch  over  the  honor  of  England." 

"  Her  safety  is  yet  more  dear  to  me,"  said  De  Vaux,  "  and 
the  life  of  Eichard  is  the  safety  of  England.  I  must  have 
your  Highness  back  to  your  tent,  and  that  without  further 
tarriance." 

"  Thou  art  a  rough  and  peremptory  nurse,  De  Vaux,"  said 
the  King,  smiling  ;  and  then  added,  addressing  Sir  Kenneth, 
''Valiant  Scot,  I  owe  thee  a  boon,  and  I  will  pay  it  richly. 
There  stands  the  banner  of  England  ;  watch  it  as  a  novice 
does  his  armor  on  the  night  before  he  is  dubbed.  Stir  not 
from  it  tliree  spears'  length,  and  defend  it  with  thy  body 
against  injury  or  insult.  Sound  thy  bugle,  if  thou  art  as- 
sailed by  more  than  three  at  once.  Dost  thou  undertake  the 
charge  ?  " 

"  Willingly,"  said  Kenneth  ;  "  and  will  discharge  it  upon 
penalty  of  my  head.  I  will  but  arm  me  and  return  hither 
instantly." 

The  Kings  of  France  and  England  then  took  formal  leave 
of  each  other,  hiding,  under  an  appearance  of  courtesy,  the 
grounds  of  comjilaint  which  either  had  against  the  other — • 
Richard  against  Philip,  for  what  he  deemed  an  officious  in- 
terference betwixt  him  and  Austria,  and  Philip  against  Coer- 
de-Lion,  for  the  disrespectful  manner  in  which  his  mediation 
had  been  received.  Those  whom  this  disturbance  had  as- 
sembled now  drew  ofE  in  different  directions,  leaving  the  con- 
tested mount  in  the  same  solitude  which  had  subsisted  till 
interrupted  by  the  Austrian  bravado.  Men  judged  of  the 
events  of  the  day  according  to  their  partialities  ;  and  while 
the  English  charged  the  Austrian  with  having  afforded  the 
first  ground  of  quarrel,  those  of  other  nations  concurred  in 
casting  the  greater  blame  upon  the  insular  haughtiness  and 
assuming  character  of  Richard. 

"  Thou  seest,"  said  the  Marquis  of  Montserrat  to  the 
Grand  Master  of  the  Templars,  ''that  subtle  courses  are 
more  effective  than  violence.  I  have  unloosed  the  bonds 
which  held  together  this  bunch  of  scepters  and  lances  ;  thou 
wilt  see  them  shortly  fall  asunder." 

**I  would  have  called  thy  plan  a  good  one,*'  said  the 


THE  TALISMAN  131 

Templar,  "had  there  been  but  one  man  of  courage  among 
yonder  cold-blooded  Austrians,  to  sever  the  bonds  of  which 
you  speak  with  his  sword.  A  knot  that  is  unloosed  may 
again  be  fastened,  but  not  so  the  cord  which  has  been  cut  to 
pieces." 


CHAPTER  Xn 

Tis  woman  that  seduces  all  mankind. 

Gay. 

In-  the  days  of  chivalry,  a  dangerous  post,  or  a  periloiis  ad 
venture,  was  a  reward  frequently  assigned  to  military  bravery 
as  a  compensation  for  its  former  trials  ;  just  as,  in  ascending 
a  precipice,  the  surmounting  one  crag  only  lifts  the  climber 
to  points  yet  more  dangerous. 

It  was  midnight,  and  the  moon  rose  clear  and  high  in 
heaven,  when  Kenneth  of  Scotland  stood  upon  his  watch  on 
St.  George'c  Blount,  beside  the  banner  of  England — a  soli'tary 
sentinel,  to  protect  the  emblem  of  that  nation  against  the 
insults  which  might  be  meditated  among  the  thousands  wliom 
Richard  s  pride  had  made  his  enemies.  High  thoughts  rolled, 
one  after  another,  upon  the  mind  of  the  warrior.  It  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  had  gained  some  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the 
chivalrous  monarch,  who  till  now  had  not  seemed  to  distin- 
guish him  among  the  crowds  of  brave  men  whom  his  renown 
had  assembled  under  his  banner,  and  Sir  Kenneth  little 
recked  that  the  display  of  royal  regard  consisted  in  placing 
him  wpon  a  post  so  perilous.  The  devotion  of  his  ambitious 
and  high-placed  aiTection  inflamed  his  military  enthusiasm. 
Hopeless  as  that  attachment  was,  in  almost  any  conceivable 
circumstances,  those  which  had  lately  occurred  had,  in  some 
degree,  diminished  the  distance  between  Edith  and  himself. 
He  upon  whom  Richard  had  conferred  the  distinction  of 
guarding  his  banner  was  no  longer  an  adventurer  of  slight  i 
note,  but  placed  witin  the  regard  of  a  princess,  although  he  I 
was  as  far  as  ever  from  her  level.  An  unknown  and  obscure  j 
fate  could  not  now  be  his.  If  he  was  surprised  and  slain  on  ; 
the  post  Avhich  had  been  assigned  him,  his  death — and  he  | 
resolved  it  should  be  glorious — must  deserve  the  praises,  as 
well  as  call  down  the  vengeance,  of  Coeur-de-Lion,  and  be 
followed  by  the  regrets,  and  even  the  tears,  of  the  high-born 
beauties  of  the  English  court.  He  had  now  no  longer  reason 
to  fear  tliat  he  should  die  as  a  fool  dieth. 

Sir  Kenneth  had  full  leisure  to  enjoy  these  and   similar 
iigh-souled  thoughts,  fostered  by  that  wild  spirit  of  chivah'"' 
132 


I 


Hi 


THE  TALISMAN  133 

whirn,  amid  its  most  extravagant  and  fantastic  flights,  waa 
still  pure  from  all  selfish  alloy — generous,  devoted,  and  per- 
haps only  thus  far  censurable,  that  it  proposed  objects  and 
courses  of  action  inconsistent  with  the  frailties  and  imper- 
fections of  man.  All  nature  around  him  slept  in  calm  moon- 
shine or  in  deep  shadow.  The  long  rows  of  tents  and  pavil- 
ions, glimmering  or  darkening  as  they  lay  in  the  moonlight 
or  in  the  shade,  were  still  and  silent  as  the  streets  of  a  de- 
serted city.  Beside  the  banner-staff  lay  the  large  staghound 
already  mentioned,  the  sole  companion  of  Kenneth's  watch, 
on  whose  vigilance  he  trusted  for  early  warning  of  the  ap- 
proach of  any  hostile  footstep.  The  noble  animal  seemed  to 
understand  the  purpose  of  their  watch,  for  he  looked  from 
time  to  time  at  the  rich  folds  of  the  heavy  pennon,  and,  when 
the  cry  of  the  sentinels  came  from  the  distant  lines  and  de- 
fenses of  the  camp,  he  answered  them  with  one  deep  ind  re- 
iterated bark,  as  if  to  affirm  that  he  too  was  vigilant  in  his 
duty.  From  time  to  time,  also,  he  lowered  his  lofty  head 
and  wagged  his  tail,  as  his  master  passed  and  repassed  him 
in  the  short  turns  he  took  upon  his  post ;  or,  wlien  the  knight 
stood  silent  and  abstracted,  leaning  on  his  lance,  and  looking 
up  towards  heaven,  his  faithful  attendant  ventured  some- 
times, in  the  phrase  of  romance,  "  to  disturb  his  thoughts," 
and  awaken  him  from  his  reverie,  by  thrusting  his  large  rough 
snout  into  the  knight's  gauntleted  hand,  to  solicit  a  transi- 
tory caress. 

Thus  passed  two  hours  of  the  knight's  watch  without  any- 
thing remarkable  occurring.  At  length,  and  upon  a  sudden, 
the  gallant  staghound  bayed  furiously,  and  seemed  about  to 
dash  forward  where  the  shadow  lay  the  darkest,  yet  waited, 
as  if  in  the  slips,  till  he  should  know  the  pleasure  of  his 
master. 

"Who  goes  there  ?"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  aware  that  there 
was  something  creeping  forward  on  the  shadowy  side  of  the 
mount. 

"  In  the  name  of  Merlin  and  Maugis,"  answered  a  hoarse, 
disagreeable  voice,  "  tie  up  your  four-footed  demon  there, 
or  I  come  not  at  you." 

"  And  who  art  thou  that  would  approach  my  post  ?"  said 
Sir  Kenneth,  bending  his  eyes  as  keenly  as  he  could  on  some 
object,  which  he  could  just  observe  at  the  bottom  of  the  as- 
cent, without  being  able  to  distinguish  its  form.  "Beware 
— I  am  here  for  death  and  life." 

"  Take  up  thy  long-fanged  Sathanas,"  said  the  voice,  "or 
I  will  conjure  him  with  a,  bolt  from  my  arblast." 


i 


134  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

At  the  same  time  was  heard  the  sound  of  a  spring  or  check, 
as  when  a  cross-bow  is  bent. 

"  Unbend  thy  arblast  and  come  into  the  moonlight/'  said 
the  Scot,  "or,  by  St.  Andrew,  I  will  pin  thee  to  the  earth, 
be  what  or  whom  thou  wilt.'' 

As  he  spoke,  he  poised  his  long  lance  by  the  middle,  and, 
fixing  his  eye  upon  the  object  which  seemed  to  move,  he 
brandished  the  weapon,  as  if  meditating  to  cast  it  from  his 
hand — a  use  of  the  weapon  sometimes,  though  rarely,  resorted 
to,  when  a  missile  was  necessary.  But  Sir  Kenneth  was 
ashamed  of  his  purpose  and  grounded  his  weapon,  when  there 
stepped  from  the  shadow  into  the  moonlight,  like  an  actor 
entering  upon  the  stage,  a  stunted,  decrepit  creature,  whom, 
by  his  fantastic  dress  and  deformity,  he  recognized,  even  at 
some  distance,  for  the  male  of  the  two  dwarfs  whom  he  had 
seen  in  the  chapel  at  Engaddi.  Recollecting,  at  the  same 
moment,  the  other,  and  far  different,  visions  of  that  extraor- 
dinary night,  he  gave  his  dog  a  signal,  which  he  instantly 
understood,  and,  returning  to  the  standard,  laid  himself  down 
beside  it  with  a  stifled  growl. 

The  little  distorted  miniature  of  humanity,  assured  of  his 
safety  from  an  enemy  so  formidable,  came  panting  up  the 
ascent,  which  the  shortness  of  his  legs  rendered  laborious, 
and,  when  he  arrived  on  the  platform  at  the  top,  shifted  to 
his  left  hand  the  little  cross-bow,  which  was  just  such  a  toy 
as  children  at  that  period  were  permitted  to  shoot  small  birds 
with,  and,  assuming  an  attitude  of  great  dignity,  gracefully 
extended  his  right  hand  to  Sir  Kenneth,  in  an  attitude  as  if 
he  expected  he  would  salute  it.  But  such  a  result  not  fol- 
lowing, he  demanded,  in  a  sharp  and  angry  tone  of  voice, 
"  Soldier,  wherefore  renderest  thou  not  to  Nectabanus  the 
homage  due  to  his  dignity  ?  Or,  is  it  possible  that  thou 
canst  have  forgotten  him  ?" 

"  Great  Nectabanus,"  answered  the  knight,  willing  to 
soothe  the  creature's  humor,  "  that  weredifficult  for  any  one 
who  has  ever  looked  upon  thee.  Pardon  me,  however,  that, 
being  a  soldier  upon  my  post,  with  my  lance  in  my  hand,  I 
may  not  give  to  one  of  thy  puissance  the  advantage  of  com- 
ing within  my  guard,  or  of  mastering  my  weapon.  Suffice 
it,  that  I  reverence  thy  dignity,  and  submit  myself  to  thee 
as  humbly  as  a  man-at-arms  in  my  place  may." 

''It  shall  suffice,"  said  Nectabanus,  "so  that  you  pres- 
ently attend  me  to  the  presence  of  those  who  have  sent  ma 
hither  to  summon  you.^' 

"Great  sir,"  replied  the  knight,  "neither  in  this  can  I 


THE  TALISMAN  136 

gratify  thee,  for  my  orders  are  to  abide  by  this  banner  till 
daybreak  ;  so  I  pray  you  to  hold  me  excused  in  that  matter 
also.'" 

So  saying,  he  resumed  his  walk  upon  the  platform  ;  but 
the  dwarf  did  not  suifer  him  so  easily  to  escape  from  his 
importunity. 

"  Look  you,"  he  said,  placing  himself  before  Sir  Kenneth, 
so  as  to  interrupt  his  way,  "  either  obey  me,  sir  knight,  as  in 
duty  bound,  or  I  will  lay  the  command  upon  thee,  in  the 
name  of  one  whose  beauty  could  call  down  the  genii  from 
their  sphere,  and  whose  grandeur  could  command  the  immor- 
tal race  when  they  had  descended." 

A  wild  and  improbable  conjecture  arose  in  the  knight's 
mind,  but  he  repelled  it.  It  was  impossible,  he  thought, 
that  the  lady  of  his  love  should  have  sent  him  such  a  mes- 
sage by  siich  a  messenger  ;  yet  his  voice  trembled  as  he  said, 
"  Go  to,  ISTectabanus.  Tell  me  at  once,  and  as  a  true  man, 
whether  this  sublime  lady  of  whom  thou  speakest  be  other 
than  the  houri  with  whose  assistance  I  beheld  thee  sweeping 
the  chapel  at  Engaddi  ?  " 

"  How  !  presumptuous  knight,"  replied  the  dwarf, 
"think'st  thou  the  mistress  of  our  own  royal  affections,  the 
sharer  of  our  greatness,  and  the  partner  of  our  comeliness, 
would  demean  herself  by  laying  charge  on  such  a  vassal  as 
thou  ?  No,  highly  as  thou  art  honored,  thou  hast  not  yet 
deserved  the  notice  of  Queen  Guenevra,  the  lovely  bride  of 
Arthur,  from  whose  high  seat  even  princes  seem  but  pig- 
mies. But  look  thou  here,  and  as  thou  knowest  or  disown- 
est  this  token,  so  obey  or  refuse  her  commands  who  hath 
deigned  to  impose  them  on  thee." 

So  saying,  he  placed  in  the  knight's  hands  a  ruby  ring, 
which,  even  in  the  moonlight,  he  had  no  difficulty  to  recog- 
nize as  that  which  usually  graced  the  finger  of  the  high-born 
lady  to  whose  service  he  had  devoted  himself.  Could  he 
have  doubted  truth  of  the  token,  he  would  have  been  con- 
vinced by  the  small  knot  of  carnation-colored  ribbon  which 
was  fastened  to  the  ring.  This  was  his  lady's  favorite  color, 
and  more  than  once  had  he  himself,  assuming  it  for  tliat  of 
his  own  liveries,  caused  the  carnation  to  triumph  over  all 
other  hues  in  the  lists  and  in  the  battle. 

Sir  Kenneth  was  struck  nearly  mute  by  seeing  such  a  token 
in  such  hands. 

'*'  In  the  name  of  all  that  is  sacred,  from  whom  didst  thou 
receive  this  witness  ?  "  said  the  knight.  "  Bring,  if  thou 
canst,  thy  wavering  understanding  to  a  right  settlement  for 


136  WAVBltLET  NOVELS 

a  minute  or  two,  and  tell  me  the  person  by  whom  thou  art 
sent,  and  the  real  purpose  of  thy  message  ;  and  take  heed 
what  thou  say'st,  for  this  is  no  subject  for  buffoonery." 

"Fond  and  foolish  knight/'  said  the  dwarf,  *' wouldst 
thou  know  more  of  this  matter  than  that  thou  art  honored 
with  commands  from  a  princess,  delivered  to  thee  by  a  king  ? 
We  list  not  to  parley  with  thee  farther  than  to  command 
thee,  in  the  name  and  by  the  power  of  that  ring,  to  follow 
us  to  her  who  is  the  owner  of  the  ring.  Every  minute  that 
thou  tarriest  is  a  crime  against  thy  allegiance." 

"  Good  Nectabanus,  bethink  thyself,"  said  the  knight. 
"  Can  my  lady  know  where  and  upon  what  duty  I  am  this 
night  engaged  ?  Is  she  aware  that  my  life — pshaw,  why 
should  I  speak  of  life  ? — but  that  my  honor  depends  on  my 
guarding  this  banner  till  daybreak,  and  can  it  be  her  wish 
that  I  should  leave  it  even  to  pay  homage  to  her  ?  It  is  im- 
possible ;  the  princess  is  pleased  to  be  merry  with  her  servant, 
in  sending  him  such  a  message,  and  I  must  think  so  the 
rather  that  she  hath  chosen  such  a  messenger." 

"  Oh,  keep  your  belief,"  said  Nectabanus,  turning  round 
as  if  to  leave  the  platform  ;  "  it  is  little  to  me  whether  you 
be  traitor  or  true  man  to  this  royal  lady  ;  so  fare  thee  well.'' 

"  Stay — stay — I  entreat  you  stay,"  said  Sir  Kenneth  ; 
*' answer  me  but  one  question — Is  the  lady  who  sent' thee 
near  to  this  place  ?  " 

"  What  signifies  it  ?"  said  the  dwarf.  "  Ought  fidelity 
to  reckon  furlongs,  or  miles,  or  leagues,  like  the  poor  cou- 
rier, who  is  paid  for  his  labor  by  the  distance  which  he 
traverses  ?  Nevertheless,  thou  soul  of  suspicion,  I  tell  thee, 
the  fair  owner  of  the  ring,  now  sent  to  so  unworthy  a  vassal, 
in  whom  there  is  neither  truth  nor  courage,  is  not  more  dis- 
tant from  this  place  than  this  arblast  can  send  a  bolt." 

The  knight  gazed  again  on  the  ring,  as  if  to  ascertain  that 
there  was  no  possible  falsehood  in  the  token.  "  Tell  me,"  he 
said  to  the  dwarf,  "  is  my  presence  required  for  any  length 
of  time?" 

"Time!"  answered  Nectabanus,  in  his  flighty  manner; 
"  what  call  you  time  ?  I  see  it  not — I  feel  it  not ;  it  is  but 
a  shadowy  name — a  succession  of  breathings  measured  forth 
by  night  by  the  clank  uf  a  bell,  by  da}'  by  a  shadow  crossing 
along  a  diai-stone.  Know'st  thou  not  a  true  knight's  time 
should  only  be  reckoned  by  the  deeds  that  he  performs  in 
behalf  of  God  and  his  lady." 

"  The  words  of  truth,  though  in  the  mouth  of  folly,"  said 
the  knight.    "  And  doth  my  lady  really  summon  me  to  some 


THE  TALISMAN  m 

deed  of  action  in  her  name  and  for  her  sake  ?  and  may  it  not 
be  postponed  for  even  the  few  hours  till  daybreak  ?  " 

"She  requires  thy  presence  instantly,"  said  the  dwarf, 
*'  and  without  the  loss  of  so  much  time  as  would  be  told  by 
ten  grains  of  the  sand-glass.  Hearken,  thou  cold-blooded 
and  suspicious  knight,  these  are  her  very  words — '  Tell  him 
that  the  hand  which  dropped  roses  can  bestow  laurels.' " 

This  allusion  to  tlieir  meeting  in  the  chapel  of  Engaddi 
sent  a  thousand  recollections  through  Sir  Kenneth's  brain, 
and  convinced  him  that  the  message  delivered  by  the  dwarf 
was  genuine.  The  rosebuds,  withered  as  they  were,  were 
still  treasured  under  his  cuirass,  and  nearest  to  his  heart. 
He  paused,  and  could  not  resolve  to  forego  an  opportunity 
— the  only  one  which  might  ever  offer — to  gain  grace  in  her 
Byes  whom  he  had  installed  as  sovereign  of  his  affections. 
The  dwarf,  in  the  meantime,  augmented  his  confusion  by 
insisting  either  that  he  must  return  the  ring  or  instantly 
\ttend  him. 

"  Hold — hold — yet  a  moment  hold,"  said  the  knight,  and 
proceeded  to  mutter  to  himself — "Am  I  either  the  subject 
or  slave  of  King  Richard,  more  than  as  a  free  knight  sworn 
to  the  service  of  the  Crusade  ?  And  whom  have  I  come 
hither  to  honor  with  lance  and  sword  ?  Our  holy  cause  and 
my  transcendent  lady  !  " 

"  The  ring — the  ring  !  "  exclaimed  the  dwarf,  impatiently 
— "false  and  slothful  knight,  return  the  ring,  which  thou 
art  unworthy  to  touch  or  to  look  upon." 

"A  moment — a  moment,  good  Nectabanus,"  said  Sir 
Kenneth  ;  "  disturb  not  my  thoughts.  What  if  the  Saracens 
were  just  now  to  attack  our  lines  ?  Should  I  stay  here  like 
a  sworn  vassal  of  England,  watching  that  her  king's  pride 
suffered  no  humiliation,  or  should  I  speed  to  the  breach, 
and  fight  for  the  Cross  ?  To  the  breach,  assuredly  ;  and 
next  to  the  cause  of  God,  come  the  commands  of  my  liege 
lady.  And  yet,  Coeur-de-Lion's  behest — my  own  promise  ! 
Nectabanus,  I  conjure  thee  once  more  to  say,  are  you  to 
conduct  me  far  from  hence  ?  " 

"  But  to  yonder  pavilion  ;  and,  since  you  must  needs 
know,"  replied  Nectabanus,  "  the  moon  is  glimmering  on 
the  gilded  ball  which  crowns  its  roof,  and  which  is  worth  a 
king's  ransom." 

"  I  can  return  in  an  instant,"  said  the  knight,  shutting 
his  eyes  desperately  to  all  farther  consequences.  "  I  can 
he-dv  from  thence  the  bay  of  my  dog,  if  any  one  approacheg 
Vhe  standard  ;  I  will  throw  myself  at  my  lady's  feet,  and 


138  WA VER LEY  NOVEL S 

pray  her  leave  to  return  to  conclude  my  watch.  Here,  Roswal 
(calling  his  hound,  and  throwing  down  his  mantle  by  the 
side  of  the  standard-spear),  watch  thou  here,  and  let  no  one 
approach." 

The  majestic  dog  looked  in  his  master's  face,  as  if  to  be 
sure  that  he  understood  his  charge,  then  sat  down  beside 
the  mantle,  with  ears  erect  and  head  raised,  like  a  sentinel, 
understanding  perfectly  the  purpose  for  which  he  was  sta- 
tioned there. 

"  Come  now,  good  Nectabanus,"  said  the  knight,  "  let  us 
hasten  to  obey  the  commands  thou  hast  brought.'' 

"  Haste  he  that  will/'  said  the  dwarf,  sullenly  ;  "  thou 
hast  not  been  in  haste  to  obey  my  summons,  nor  can  I  walk 
fast  enough  to  follow  your  long  strides  :  you  do  not  walk 
like  a  man,  but  bound  like  an  ostrich  in  the  desert." 

There  were  but  two  ways  of  conquering  the  obstinacy  of 
Nectabanus,  who,  as  he  spoke,  diminished  his  walk  into  a 
snail  pace.  For  bribes  Sir  Kenneth  had  no  means,  for 
soothing  no  time  ;  so  in  his  impatience  he  snatched  the  dwarf 
up  from  the  ground,  and  bearing  him  along,  notwithstand- 
ing his  entreaties  and  his  fear,  reached  nearly  to  the  pavilion 
pointed  out  as  that  of  the  Queen.  Jn  approaching  it,  how- 
ever, the  Scot  observed  there  was  a  small  guard  of  soldiers 
sitting  on  the  ground,  who  had  been  concealed  from  him  by 
the  intervening  tents.  Wondering  that  the  clash  of  his  own 
armor  had  not  yet  attracted  their  attention,  and  supposing 
that  his  motions  might,  on  the  present  occasion,  require  to 
be  conducted  with  secrecy,  he  placed  the  little  panting  guide 
upon  the  ground  to  recover  his  breath  and  point  out  what 
was  next  to  be  done.  Nectabanus  was  both  frightened  and 
angry  ;  but  he  had  felt  himself  as  completely  in  the  power 
of  the  robust  knight  as  an  owl  in  the  claws  of  an  eagle,  and 
therefore  cared  not  to  provoke  him  to  any  farther  display  of 
his  strength. 

He  made  no  complaints,  therefore,  of  the  usage  he  had 
received,  but  turning  amongst  the  labyrinth  of  tents,  he  led 
the  knight  in  silence  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  pavilion, 
wliich  thus  screened  them  from  the  observation  of  the  ward- 
ers, who  seemed  either  too  negligent  or  too  sleepy  to  dis- 
charge their  duty  with  much  accuracy.  Arrived  there,  the 
dwarf  raised  the  under  part  of  the  canvass  from  the  ground, 
and  made  signs  to  Sir  Kenneth  that  he  should  introduce 
himself  to  the  inside  of  the  tent,  by  creeping  under  it.  The 
knight  hesitated  :  there  seemed  an  indecorum  in  thus  pri- 
vately introducing  himself  into  a  pavilion  pitched,  doubt- 


THE  TALISMAN  139 

less,  for  the  accommodation  of  noble  ladies  ;  but  lie  recalled 
to  remembrance  the  assured  tokens  which  the  dwarf  had 
exhibited,  and  concluded  that  it  was  not  for  him  to  dispute 
his  lady's  pleasure. 

He  stoopt  accordingly,  crept  beneath  the  canvass  inclosure 
of  the  tent,  and  heard  the  dwarf  whisper  from  without — 
"  Kemain  there  until  I  call  thee/' 


I 


CHAPTER  XIII 

You  talk  of  gaiety  and  innocence  I 
Tht.'  moment  when  the  fatal  fruit  was  eaten, 
They  parted  ne'er  to  meet  again  ;  and  malice 
Has  ever  since  been  playmate  to  light  gaiety, 
From  the  first  moment  when  the  smiling  infant 
Destroys  the  flower  or  butterfly  he  toys  with 
To  the  last  chuckle  of  the  dying  miser, 
Who  on  his  deathbed  laughs  his  last  to  hear 
His  wealthy  neighbor  has  become  a  bankrupt. 

Old  Play. 

Sir  Kenneth  was  left  for  some  minutes  alone  and  in  dark- 
ness. Here  was  another  interruption,  which  must  prolong 
his  absence  from  his  post,  and  he  began  almost  to  repent  the 
facility  with  which  he  had  been  induced  to  quit  it.  But  to 
return  without  seeing  the  Lady  Edith  was  now  not  to  be 
thought  of.  He  had  committed  a  breach  of  military  dis- 
cipline, and  was  determined  at  least  to  prove  the  reality  of 
the  seductive  expectations  which  had  tempted  him  to  do  so 
Meanwhile,  his  situation  was  unpleasant.  There  was  no 
light  to  show  him  into  what  sort  of  apartment  he  had  been 
led  ;  the  Lady  Edith  was  in  immediate  attendance  on  the 
Queen  of  England,  and  the  discovery  of  his  having  intro- 
duced himself  thus  furtively  into  the  royal  pavilion  might, 
were  it  discovered,  lead  to  much  and  dangerous  suspicion. 
While  he  gave  way  to  these  unpleasant  reflections,  and  be- 
gan almost  to  wish  that  he  could  achieve  his  retreat  unob- 
served, he  heard  a  noise  of  female  voices,  laughing,  whis- 
pering, and  speaking  in  an  adjoining  apartment,  from  which, 
as  the  sounds  gave  him  reason  to  judge,  he  could  only  be 
separated  by  a  canvass  partition.  Lamps  were  burning,  as 
he  might  perceive  by  the  shadowy  light  which  extended  itself 
even  to  his  side  of  the  veil  which  divided  the  tent,  and  he 
could  see  shades  of  several  figures  sitting  and  moving  in  the 
adjoining  apartment.  It  cannot  be  termed  discourtesy  in 
Sir  Kenneth  that,  situated  as  he  was,  he  overheard  a  conver- 
sation in  which  he  found  himself  deeply  interested. 

"  Call  her — call  her,  for  Our  Lady's  sake,"  said  the  voice 
of  one  of  these   laughing  invisibles.     ''  Nectabanus,  thou 
140 


THE  TALISMAN  141 

shalt  be  made  ambassador  to  Prester  John's  conrt^  to  shov 
them  how  wisely  thou  canst  discharge  thee  of  a  mission." 

The  shrill  tone  of  the  dwarf  was  heard,  yet  so  much  sub- 
dued, that  Sir  Kenneth  could  not  understand  what  he  said, 
except  that  he  spoke  something  of  the  means  of  merriment 
given  to  the  guard. 

"  But  how  shall  we  rid  us  of  the  spirit  which  Nectabanus 
hath  raised,  my  maidens  ?" 

"  Hear  me,  royal  madam/'  said  auothe?  voice  ;  "  if  the 
Bage  and  princely  Nectabanus  be  not  over-jealous  of  his  most 
transcendent  bride  and  empress,  let  us  send  her  to  get  us  rid 
of  this  insolent  knight-errant,  who  can  be  so  easily  persuaded 
that  high-born  dames  may  need  the  use  of  his  insolent  and 
overweening  valor." 

"  It  were  but  justice,  methinks,"  replied  another,  ''that 
the  Princess  Guenevra  should  dismiss,  by  her  courtesy,  him 
whom  her  husband's  wisdom  has  been  able  to  entice  hither." 

Struck  to  the  heart  with  shame  and  resentment  at  what 
he  had  heard.  Sir  Kenneth  was  about  to  attempt  his  escape 
from  the  tent  at  all  hazards,  when  what  followed  arrested  his 
purpose. 

"  Nay,  truly,"  said  the  first  speaker,  ''our  cousin  Edith 
must  first  learn  how  this  vaunted,  wight  hath  conducted  him- 
self, and  we  must  reserve  the  power  of  giving  her  ocular 
proof  that  he  hath  failed  in  his  duty.  It  may  be  a  lesson 
will  do  good  upon  her  ;  for,  credit  me,  Calista,  I  have  some- 
times thought  she  has  let  this  Northern  adventurer  sit 
nearer  her  heart  than  prudence  would  sanction." 

One  of  the  other  voices  was  then  heard  to  mutter  some 
thing  of  the  Lady  Edith's  prudence  and  wisdom. 

"  Prudence,  wench  ! "  was  the  reply.  "  It  is  mere  pride 
and  the  desire  to  be  thought  more  rigid  than  any  of  us 
Nay,  I  will  not  quit  my  advantage.  You  know  well  that> 
when  she  has  us  at  fault,  no  one  3an,  in  a  civil  way,  lay  your 
error  before  you  more  precisely  than  can  my  Lady  Edith. 
But  here  she  comes." 

A  figure,  as  if  entering  the  apartment,  cast  upon  the  parti- 
tion a  shade,  which  glided  along  slowly  until  it  mixed  with 
those  which  already  clouded  it.  Despite  of  the  bitter  dis- 
appointment which  he  had  experienced,  despite  the  insult 
and  injury  with  which  it  seemed  he  had  been  visited  by  the 
malice,  or,  at  best,  by  the  idle  humor,  of  Queen  Berengaria 
(for  he  already  concluded  that  she  who  spoke  loudest,  and 
in  a  commanding  tone,  was  the  wife  of  Richard),  the  knight 
felt  something  so  soothing  to  his  feelings  in  learning  that 


142  W'A  VERLEY  N  O  VEL  S  W 

Edith  had  been  no  partner  to  the  fraud  practised  on  him, 
and  so  interesting  to  his  curiosity  in  tlie  scene  which  waa 
about  to  take  place,  that,  instead  of  prosecuting  his  more 
prudent  purpose  of  an  instant  retreat,  he  looked  anxiously, 
on  the  contrary,  for  some  rent  or  crevice  by  means  of  which 
he  might  be  made  eye  as  well  as  ear-witness  to  what  was  to 
go  forward. 

"  Surely,^'  said  he  to  himself,  "  the  Queen,  who  hath  been 
pleased  for  an  idle  frolic  to  endanger  my  reputation,  and 
perhaps  my  life,  cannot  complain  if  I  avail  myself  of  the 
chance  which  fortune  seems  willing  to  afford  me,  to  obtain 
knowledge  of  her  further  intentions." 

It  seemed,  in  the  meanwhile,  as  if  Edith  were  waiting  for 
the  commands  of  the  Queen,  and  as  if  the  other  were  reluc- 
tant to  speak,  for  fear  of  being  unable  to  command  her 
laughter  and  that  of  her  companions  ;  for  Sir  Kenneth  could 
only  distinguish  a  sound  as  of  suppressed  tittering  and  mer- 
riment. 

"Your  Majesty,"  said  Edith,  at  last,  ''seems  in  a  merry 
mood,  though,  methinks,  the  hour  of  night  prompts  a  sleepy 
one.  I  was  well  disposed  bed  ward,  when  I  had  your  Majesty's 
commands  to  attend  you." 

"  I  will  not  long  delay  you,  cousin,  from  your  repose," 
said  the  Queen  ;  "  though  I  fear  you  will  sleep  less  soundly 
when  I  tell  you  your  wager  is  lost." 

''Nay,  royal  madam,"  said  Edith,  "this,  surely,  is  dwell- 
ing on  a  jest  which  has  rather  been  worn  out.  I  laid  no 
wager,  however  it  was  your  Majesty's  pleasure  to  suppose,  or 
to  insist,  that  I  did  so," 

"  Nay,  now,  despite  our  pilgrimage,  Satan  is  strong  with 
you,  my  gentle  cousin,  and  prompts  thee  to  leasing.  Can 
you  deny  that  you  gaged  your  ruby  ring  against  my  golden 
bracelet  that  yonder  Knight  of  the  Libbard,  or  how  call 
you  him,  could  not  be  seduced  from  his  post  ?" 

"  Your  Majesty  is  too  great  for  me  to  gainsay  you,"  re- 
plied Edith  ;  "  but  these  ladies  can,  if  they  will,  bear  me 
witness  that  it  was  your  Highness  who  proposed  such  a 
wager,  and  took  the  ring  from  my  finger,  even  while  I  was 
declaring  that  I  did  not  think  it  maidenly  to  gage  anything 
on  such  a  subject." 

"Nay,  but,  my  Lady  Edith,"  said  another  voice,  "you 
must  needs  grant,  under  your  favor,  that  you  expressed  your- 
self very  confident  of  the  valor  of  that  same  Knight  of  the 
Leopard." 

"And  if  I  did,  minion,"  said  Edith,  angrily,  "is  that  a 


THE  TALISMAN  143 

good  reason  why  thou  shouldst  put  in  thy  word  to  fliitter  her 
Majesty's  humor  ?  I  spoke  of  that  knight  but  as  all  men 
speak  who  have  seen  liim  in  the  iield,  and  had  no  more  in- 
terest in  defending  than  thou  in  detracting  from  him.  In  a 
camp,  what  can  women  speak  of  save  soldiers  and  deeds  of 
arms  ?  " 

"  The  noble  Lady  Edith,"  said  a  third  voice,  "  hath  never 
forgiven  Calista  and  me,  since  we  told  your  Majesty  that  she 
dropped  two  rosebuds  in  the  chapel." 

''If  your  Majesty,"  said  Edith,  in  a  tone  which  Sir  Ken- 
neth could  judge  to  be  that  of  respectable  remonstrance, 
*'  have  no  other  commands  for  me  than  to  hear  the  gibes  of 
your  waiting-women,  I  must  crave  your  permission  to  with- 
draw." 

"Silence,  Florise,"  said  the  Queen,  "and  let  not  our  in- 
dulgence lead  you  to  forget  the  difference  betwixt  yourself 
and  the  kinswoman  of  England.  But  you,  my  dear  cousin," 
she  continued,  resuming  her  tone  of  raillery,  "  how  can  you, 
who  are  so  good-natured,  begrudge  us  poor  wretches  a  few 
minutes'  laughing,  when  we  have  had  so  many  days  devoted 
to  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth  ?  " 

"Great  be  your  mirth,  royal  lady,"  said  Edith;  "yet 
would  I  be  content  not  to  smile  for  the  rest  of  my  life  rather 
than " 

She  stopped,  apparently  out  of  respect ;  but  Sir  Kenneth 
could  hear  that  she  was  in  much  agitation. 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Berengaria,  a  thoughtless  but  good- 
humored  princess  of  the  house  of  Navarre  ;  "  but  what  is  the 
great  offense  after  all  ?  h  young  knight  has  been  wiled 
hither  ;  has  stolen — or  has  been  stolen — from  his  post,  which 
no  one  will  disturb  in  his  absence,  for  the  sake  of  a  fair 
lady ;  for,  to  do  your  champion  justice,  sweet  one,  the  wis- 
dom of  Nectabanus  could  conjure  him  hither  in  no  name  but 
yours." 

"Gracious  Heaven  !  your  Majesty  does  not  say  so  ?"  said 
Edith,  in  a  voice  of  alarm  quite  different  from  the  agitation 
she  had  previously  evinced — "you  cannot  say  so,  consist- 
ently with  respect  for  your  own  honor  and  for  mine,  your 
husband's  kinswoman  !  Say  you  were  jesting  with  me,  my 
royal  mistress,  and  forgive  me  that  I  could,  even  for  a 
moment,  think  it  possible  you  could  be  in  earnest ! " 

"The  Lady  Edith,"  said  the  Queen,  in  a  displeased  tone 
of  voice,  "  regrets  the  ring  we  have  won  of  her.  We  will 
restore  the  pledge  to  you,  gentle  cousin,  only  you  must 
not  grudge   us   in  turn  a  little  triumph  over  the  wisdom 


144  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL  S 

wrhich  has  been  so  often  spread  over  us,  as  a  banner  over  a 
host/' 

'•'A  triumph  !"  exclaimed  Edith,  indignautl}^ — '-'a  triumpii  1 
The  triumph  will  be  with  the  infidel,  when  he  hears  tliat 
the  Queen  of  England  can  make  the  reputation  of  her  hus- 
band's kinswoman  the  subject  of  a  light  frolic." 

"  You  are  angry,  fair  cousin,  at  losing  your  favorite  ring," 
said  the  Queen.  "Come,  since  you  grudge  to  pay  your 
wager,  we  will  renounce  our  right;  it  was  your  name  and 
that  pledge  brought  him  hither,  and  we  care  not  for  the  bait 
after  the  fish  is  caught."' 

"Madam,"  replied  Edith,  impatiently,  "you  know  well 
that  your  Grace  could  not  wish  for  anything  of  mine  but  it 
becomes  instantly  yours.  But  I  would  give  a  bushel  of 
rubies  ere  ring  or  name  of  mine  had  been  used  to  bring  a 
brave  man  into  a  fault,  and  perhaps  to  disgrace  and  punish- 
ment." 

"0,  it  is  for  the  safety  of  our  true  knight  that  we  fear  ?  " 
said  the  Queen.  "  You  rate  our  power  too  low,  fair  cousin, 
when  you  speak  of  a  life  being  lost  for  a  frolic  of  ours.  0, 
Lady  Editli,  others  have  influence  on  the  iron  breasts  of 
warriors  as  well  as  you  :  the  heart  even  of  a  lion  is  made  of 
flesh  not  of  stone  ;  and,  believe  me,  I  have  interest  enough 
with  Richard  to  save  this  knight,  in  whose  fate  Lady  Edith  is 
so  deeply  concerned,  from  the  penalty  of  disobeying  his 
royal  commands." 

"  For  the  love  of  the  blessed  cross,  most  royal  lady,"  said 
Edith — and  Sir  Kenneth,  with  feelings  which  it  were  hard 
to  miravel,  heard  her  prostrate  herself  at  the  Queen's  feet — 
"  for  the  love  of  our  blessed  Lady  and  of  every  holy  saint  in 
the  calendar,  beware  what  you  do  !  You  know  not  King 
Kichard — yon  have  been  but  shortly  wedded  to  him  :  your 
breath  might  as  well  combat  the  west  wind  when  it  is  wild- 
est as  your  words  persuade  my  royal  kinsman  to  pardon  a 
military  offense.  Oh  !  for  God's  sake,  dismiss  this  gentle- 
man, if  indeed  yon  have  lured  him  hither  !  I  could  almost 
be  content  to  rest  with  the  shame  of  having  invited  him, 
did  I  know  that  he  was  returned  again  where  his  duty  calls 
him." 

"Arise,  cousin — arise,"  said  Queen  Berengaria,  "and  be 
assured  all  will  be  better  than  you  think.  Rise,  dear  Edith  ; 
I  am  sorry  I  have  played  my  foolery  with  a  knight  in  whom 
you  take  such  deep  interest.  Nay,  wring  not  thy  hands  ;  I 
will  believe  thou  carest  not  for  him — believe  anything 
rather  than  see  thee  look  so  wretchedly   miserable.     I  tell 


THE  TALISMAN  145 

thee  1  will  take  the  blame  on  myself  with  King  Richard  in 
behalf  of  thy  fair  Northern  friend — thine  acquaintance.  I 
would  say,  since  thou  own'st  him  not  as  a  friend.  Nay, 
look  not  so  reproachfully.  We  will  send  Nectabanus  to 
dismiss  this  Knight  of  the  Standard  to  his  post  ;  and  we 
ourselves  will  grace  him  on  some  future  day,  to  make 
amends  for  his  wild-goose  chase.  He  is,  I  warrant,  but  lying 
perdu  in  some  neighboring  tent.'^ 

"  By  my  crown  of  lilies  and  my  scepter  of  a  specially  good 
water-reed,"  said  Nectabanus,  "  your  Majesty  is  mistaken  : 
he  is  nearer  at  hand  than  yon  wot — he  lieth  ensconced  there 
behind  that  canvass  partition." 

''And  within  hearing  of  each  word  we  have  said!*'  ex- 
claimed the  Queen,  in  her  turn  violently  surjDrised  and  agi- 
tated.    *'  Out,  monster  of  folly  and  malignity  !  " 

As  she  uttered  these  words,  Nectabanus  fled  from  the 
pavilion  with  a  yell  of  such  a  nature  as  leaves  it  still  doubt- 
ful whether  Berengaria  had  confined  her  rebuke  to  words, 
or  added  some  more  emphatic  expression  of  her  displeasure. 

"What  can  now  be  done  ?"  said  the  Queen  to  Edith,  in  a 
whisper  of  undisguised  uneasiness. 

"  That  which  must,"  said  Edith,  firmly.  ''  We  must  see 
this  gentleman,  and  place  ourselves  in  his  mercy." 

So  saying,  she  began  hastily  to  undo  a  curtain  whicii  at 
one  place  covered  an  entrance  or  communication. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  forbear  ;  consider,"  said  the  Queen, 
"  my  apartment — our  dress — the  hour — my  honor  !  " 

But  ere  she  could  detail  her  remonstrances,  the  curtain 
:  fell,  and  there  was  no  division  any  longer  betwixt  the  armed 
knight  and  the  party  of  ladies.     The  warmth  of  an  Eastern 
night  occasioned  the  undress  of  Queen  Berengaria  and  her 
household  to  be  rather  more  simple  and  unstudied  than  their 
station,  and  the  presence  of  a  male   spectator  of  rank,  re- 
quired.     This   the   Queen   remembered,   and  with   a  loud 
shriek  fled  from  the  apartment  where  Sir  Kenneth  was  dis- 
j  closed  to  view  in  a  compartment  of  the  ample  pavilion,  now 
!  no  longer  separated  from   that  in  which  they  stood.     The 
grief  and  agitation  of  the  Lady  Edith,  as  well  as  the  deep 
interest  she  felt  in  a  hasty  explanation  with  the  Scottish 
knight,  perhaps  occasioned  her  forgetting  that   her  locks 
were  more  disheveled,  and  her  person  less    heedfully  cov- 
ered,  than  was  the  wont  of  high-born   damsels,  in  an  age 
which  was  not,  after  all,  the  most  prudish  or  scrupulous 
-  period  of  the  ancient  time.     A  thin  loose  garment  of  pink- 
colored  silk  made  the  principal  part  of  her  vestments,  witb 
ic 


146  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

Oriental  slippers,  into  which  she  had  hastily  thrust  her  bare 
feet,  and  a  scarf  hurriedly  and  loosely  thrown  about  her 
shoulders.  Her  head  had  no  other  covering  than  the  veil 
of  rich  and  disheveled  locks  falling  round  it  on  every  side, 
that  half  hid  a  countenance  which  a  mingled  sense  of  mod- 
esty, and  of  resentment,  and  other  deep  and  agitating  feel- 
ings, had  covered  with  crimson.  .  ||_ 

But  although  Edith  felt  her  situation  with  all  that  deli- 
cacy which  is  her  sex's  greatest  charm,  it  did  not  seem  that 
for  a  moment  she  placed  her  own  bashfulness  in  comparison 
with  the  duty  which,  as  she  thought,  she  owed  to  him  who 
had  been  led  into  error  and  danger  on  her  account.  She 
drew,  indeed,  her  scarf  more  closely  over  her  neck  and 
bosom,  and  she  hastily  laid  from  her  hand  a  lamp,  Avhich 
shed  too  much  luster  over  her  figure ;  but,  while  Sir  Ken- 
neth stood  motionless  on  the  same  spot  in  which  he  was  first 
discovered,  she  rather  stepped  towards  than  retired  from 
him,  as  she  exclaimed,  "  Hasten  to  your  post,  valiant 
knight ;  you  are  deceived  in  being  trained  hither.  Ask  no 
questions/* 

''  I  need  ask  none,'*  said  the  knight,  sinking  upon  one 
knee,  witii  the  reverential  devotion  of  a  saint  at  the  altar, 
and  bending  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  lest  his  looks  should 
increase  the  lady's  embarrassment. 

^  *'  Have  you  heard  all  ?"  said  Edith,  impatiently.  "  Gra- 
cious saints  !  then  wherefore  wait  you  here,  when  each 
minute  that  passes  is  loaded  with  dishonor  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  that  I  am  dishonored,  lady,  and  I  have 
heard  it  from  you,"  answered  Kenneth.     "  What  reck  I  how 
soon  punishment  follows  ?     I  have  but  one  petition  to  you, 
and  then  I  seek,  among  the  sabers  of  tlie  infidels,  whether  ; 
dishonor  may  not  be  washed  out  with  blood." 

"  Do  not  so,  neither,"  said  the  lady.  "  Be  wise :  dally 
not  here — all  may  yet  be  well,  if  you  will  but  use  despatch." 

"  I_  wait  but  for  your  forgiveness,"  said  the  knight,  still 
kneeling,  "  for  my  presumption  in  believing  that  my  poor 
services  could  have  been  required  or  valued  by  you." 

''  I  do  forgive  you.  0,  I  have  nothing  to  forgive !  I 
have  been  the  means  of  injuring  you.  But  0,  begone  !  I 
will  forgive — I  will  value  you — that  is,  as  I  value  every 
brave  Crusader — if  you  will  but  begone  ! " 

"  Receive,  first,  this  precious  yet  fatal  pledge,"  said  the 
knight,  tendering  the  ring  to  Edith,  who  now  showed  ges- 
tures of  impatience. 

**  Oh  no — no,"  she  said,  declining  to  receive  it.     ''  Keep 


THE  TALISMAN  147 

it— Veep  it  as  a  mark  of  my  regard — my  regret,  I  would  say. 
0  begone,  if  not  for  your  own  sake,  for  mine  !  " 

Almost  recompensed  for  the  loss  even  of  lionor,  which  her 
voice  had  denounced  to  him,  by  the  interest  which  she 
seemed  to  testify  in  his  safety.  Sir  Kenneth  rose  from  his 
knee,  and,  casting  a  momentary  glance  on  Edith,  bowed  low 
and  seemed  about  to  withdraw.  At  the  same  instant,  that 
maidenly  bashfulness,  which  the  energy  of  Edith's  feelings 
had  till  then  triumphed  over,  became  conqueror  in  its  turn, 
and  she  hastened  from  the  apartment,  extinguishing  her 
lamp  as  she  went,  and  leaving,  in  Sir  Kenneth's  thoughts, 
both  mental  and  natural  gloom  behind  her. 

She  must  be  obeyed  was  tlie  first  distinct  idea  which  waked 
him  from  his  reverie,  and  he  hastened  to  the  place  by  which 
he  had  entered  the  pavilion.  To  pass  under  the  canvass  in 
the  manner  he  had  entered  required  time  and  attention,  and 
he  made  a  readier  aperture  by  slitting  the  canvass  wall  with 
his  poniard.  When  in  the  free  air,  he  felt  rather  stupified 
and  overpowered  by  a  conflict  of  sensations  than  able  to  as- 
certain what  was  the  real  import  of  the  whole.  He  was 
obliged  to  spur  himself  to  action,  by  recollecting  that  the 
commands  of  the  Lady  Edith  had  required  haste.  Even 
then,  engaged  as  he  was  amongst  tent-ropes  and  tents,  he 
was  compelled  to  move  with  caution  until  he  should  regain 
the  path  or  avenue  aside  from  which  the  dwarf  had  led  him, 
in  order  to  escape  the  observation  of  the  guards  before  the 
Queen's  pavilion  ;  and  he  was  obliged  also  to  move  slowly, 
and  with  precaution,  to  avoid  giving  an  alarm,  either  by 
falling  or  by  the  clashing  of  his  armor.  A  thin  cloud  had 
obscured  the  moon,  too,  at  the  very  instant  of  his  leaving 
the  tent,  and  Sir  Kenneth  had  to  struggle  with  this  incon- 
venience at  a  moment  when  the  dizziness  of  his  head  and 
the  fulness  of  his  heart  scarce  left  him  powers  of  intelligence 
suflficient  to  direct  his  motions. 

But  at  once  sounds  came  upon  his  ear  which  instantly 
recalled  him  to  the  full  energy  of  his  faculti  s.  These  pro- 
ceeded from  the  Mount  of  St.  George.  He  heard  first  a 
single  fierce,  angry,  and  savage  bark,  which  was  immediately 
followed  by  a  yell  of  agony.  No  deer  ever  bounded  with  a 
wilder  start  at'^  the  voice  of  Roswal  than  did  Sir  Kenneth  at 
what  he  feared  was  the  death-cry  of  that  noble  hound,  from 
whom  no  ordinary  injury  could  have  extracted  even  the 
slightest  acknowledgment  of  pain.  He  surmounted  the  space 
which  divided  him  from  the  avenue,  and,  having  attained  it, 
began  to  run  towards  the  mount,  although  loaded  with  his 


]48  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

mail,  faster  than  most  men  could  have  accompanied  him 
even  if  unarmed,  relaxed  not  his  pace  for  the  steep  sides  of 
the  artificial  mound,  and  in  a  few  minutes  stood  on  the  plat- 
form upon  its  summit. 

The  moon  broke  forth  at  this  moment,  and  showed  him 
that  the  standard  of  England  was  vanished,  that  the  spear 
on  which  it  had  floated  lay  broken  on  the  ground,  and  be- 
side it  was  his  faithful  hound,  apparently  in  the  agonies  of 
death. 


I 


CHAPTER  XIV 

All  my  long  arrear  of  honor  lost, 
I'd  up  in  youth,  and  hoarded  up  for  age  ! 
Hath  honor's  fountain  then  suck'd  up  tlie  stream? 
He  hath  ;  and  hooting  boys  may  barefoot  pass, 
And  gather  pebbles  from  tlie  naked  ford, 

Don  Sebastian. 


After  a  torrent  of  afflicting  sensations,  by  which  he  was 
at  first  almost  stunned  and  confounded,  Sir  Kenneth's  first 
thought  was  to  look  for  the  authors  of  this  violation  of  the 
English  banner  ;  but  in  no  direction  could  he  see  traces  of 
them.  His  next,  which  to  some  persons,  but  scarce  to  any 
who  have  made  intimate  acquaintances  among  the  canine 
race,  may  appear  strange,  was  to  examine  the  condition  of 
his  faithful  Roswal,  mortally  wounded,  as  it  seemed,  in  dis- 
charging the  duty  which  his  master  had  been  seduced  to 
abandon.  He  caressed  the  dying  animal,  who,  faithful  to 
the  last,  seemed  to  forget  his  own  pain  in  the  satisfaction  he 
received  from  his  master's  presence,  and  continued  wagging 
his  tail  and  licking  his  hand,  even  while  by  low  moaningshe 
expressed  that  his  agony  was  increased  by  the  attempts 
which  Sir  Kenneth  made  to  withdraw  from  the  wound  the 
fragment  of  the  lance,  or  javelin,  with  which  it  had  been 
inflicted  ;  then  redoubled  his  feeble  endearments,  as  if  fear- 
ing he  had  offended  his  master  by  showing  a  sense  of  the  pain 
to  which  his  interference  had  subjected  him.  There  was 
something  in  the  display  of  the  dying  creature's  attachment 
which  mixed  as  a  bitter  ingredient  with  the  sense  of  dis- 
grace and  desolation  by  which  Sir  Kenneth  was  oppressed. 
His  only  friend  seemed  removed  from  him,  just  when  he  had 
incurred  the  contempt  and  hatred  of  all  besides.  The 
knight's  strength  of  mind  gave  way  to  a  burst  of  agonized 
distress,  and  he  groaned  and  wept  aloud. 

While  he  thus  indulged  his  grief,  a  clear  and  solemn  voice, 
close  beside  him,  pronounced  these  words  in  the  sonorous 
tone  of  the  readers  of  the  mosque,  and  in  the  Ungua  franca 
mutually  understood  by  Christians  and  Saracens  : 

"  Adversity  is  like  the  period  of  the  former  and  of  the  lat- 
ter rain — cold,comfortless  unfriendly  to  man  and  to  animal  j 
U9 


150  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

yet  from  that  season  have  their  birth  the  flower  and  the 
fruit — the  date,  the  rose,  ai^l  the  pomegranate." 

Sir  Kenneth  of  the  Leop:!r  1  turned  towards  the  speaker, 
and  beheld  the  Arabian  physician,  who,  approaching  un- 
heard, had  seated  himself  a  little  behind  him  cross-legged, 
and  uttered  with  gravity,  yet  not  without  a  tone  of  sympathy, 
the  moral  sentences  of  consolation  with  which  the  Koran  and 
its  commentators  supplied  him  ;  for,  in  the  East,  wisdom  is 
held  to  consist  less  in  a  display  of  the  sage's  own  inventive 
talents  than  in  his  ready  memory,  and  happy  application  of, 
and  reference  to,  "  that  which  is  written. 

Ashamed  at  being  surprised  in  a  womanlike  expression  of 
sorrow.  Sir  Kenneth  dashed  his  tears  indignantly  aside,  and 
again  busied  himself  with  his  dying  favorite. 

"  The  poet  hath  s:-id/'  continued  the  Arab,  without  no- 
ticing the  knight's  averted  looks  and  sullen  deportment, 
"  the  ox  for  the  field  and  the  camel  from  the  desert.  Were 
not  the  hand  of  the  leech  fitter  than  that  of  the  soldier  to 
cure  wounds,  though  less  able  to  inflict  them  ?  " 

"  This  patient.  Hakim,  is  beyond  thy  help, "  said  Sir 
Kenneth;  ''and,  besides,  he  is,  by  thy  law,  an  unclean 
animal." 

"Where  Allah  hath  deigned  to  bestow  life,  and  a  sense  of 
pain  and  pleasure,"  said  the  physician,  "it  were  sinful 
pride  should  the  sage,  whom  He  has  enlightened,  refuse  to 
prolong  existence  or  assuage  agony.  To  the  sage,  the  cure 
of  a  miserable  groom,  of  a  poor  dog,  and  of  a  conquering 
monarch  are  events  of  little  distinction.  Let  me  examine 
this  wounded  animal." 

Sir  Kenneth  acceded  in  silence,  and  the  physician  in- 
spected and  handled  Roswal's  wound  with  as  much  care  and 
attention  as  if  he  had  been  a  human  being.  He  then  took 
forth  a  case  of  instruments,  and,  by  the  judicious  and  skilful 
application  of  pincers,  withdrew^  from  the  wounded  shoulder 
the  fragment  of  the  w^eapon,  and  stopped  with  styptics  and 
bandages  the  effusion  of  blood  which  followed  ;  the  creature 
all  the  w^hile  suffering  him  patiently  to  perform  these  kind 
offices,  as  if  he  had  been  aware  of  his  kind  intentions. 

"The  animal  may  be  cured,"  said  El  Hakim,  addressing 
himself  to  Sir  Kenneth,  "  if  you  will  permit  me  to  carry  him 
to  my  tent,  and  treat  him  wdth  the  care  wdiich  the  nobleness 
of  his  nature  deserves.  For  know,  that  thy  servant  Adonbeo 
is  no  less  skilful  in  the  race,  and  pedigree,  and  distinctions 
of  good  dogs  and  of  noble  steeds  than  in  the  diseases  which 
affect  the  human  race." 


TEE  TALISMAN  151 

*'  Take  him  with  you/'  said  the  knight.  ''I  bestow  him 
on  you  freely  if  he  recovers.  I  owe  thee  a  reward  for  attend- 
ance on  my  squire,  and  have  nothing  else  to  pay  it  with. 
For  myself,  I  will  never  again  wind  bugle  or  halloo  to 
hound." 

The  Arabian  made  no  reply,  but  gave  a  signal  with  a 
clapping  of  his  hands,  which  was  instantly  answered  by  the 
appearance  of  two  black  slaves.  He  gave  them  his  orders 
in  Arabic,  received  the  answer,  that  "  to  hear  was  to  obey," 
when,  taking  the  animal  in  their  arms,  they  removed  him 
without  much  resistance  on  his  part  ;  for,  though  his  eyes 
turned  to  his  master,  he  was  too  weak  to  struggle. 

"  Fare  thee  well,  Roswal,  then,"  said  Sir  Kenneth — ''fare 
thee  well,  my  last  and  only  friend  ;  thou  art  too  noble  a 
possession  to  be  retained  by  one  such  as  I  must  in  future  call 
myself.  I  would,"  he  said,  as  the  slaves  retired,  '•  that, 
dying  as  he  is,  I  could  exchange  conditions  with  that  noble 
animal  I " 

"  It  is  written,"  answered  the  Arabian,  although  the 
exclamation  had  not  been  addressed  to  him,  "  that  all 
creatures  are  fashioned  for  the  service  of  man  ;  and  the 
master  of  the  earth  speaketh  folly  when  he  would  exchange, 
in  his  impatience,  his  hopes  here  and  to  come  for  the  servile 
condition  of  an  inferior  being." 

"  A  dog  who  dies  in  discharging  his  duty,"  said  the 
knight,  sternly,  "  is  better  than  a  man  who  survives  the 
desertion  of  it.  Leave  me.  Hakim  ;  thou  hast,  on  this  side 
of  miracle,  the  most  wonderful  science  which  man  ever 
possessed,  but  the  wounds  of  the  spirit  are  beyond  thy 
power." 

"  Not  if  the  patient  will  explain  his  calamity,  and  be 
guided  by  the  physician,"  said  Adonbec  el  Hakim. 

"  Know,  then,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  "  since  thou  art  so 
importunate,  that  last  night  the  banner  of  England  was 
displayed  from  this  mound — I  was  its  appointed  guardian  ; 
morning  is  now  breaking — there  lies  the  broken  banner- 
spear,  the  standard  itself  is  lost,  and  here  sit  I  a  living 
man!"  ^  .... 

*'How!"  said  El  Hakim,  examining  him;  *'thy  armor 
is  whole,  there  is  no  blood  on  thy  weapons,  and  report  speaks 
thee  one  unlikely  to  return  thus  "from  fight.  Thou  hast  been 
trained  from  thy  post — ay,  trained  by  the  rosy  cheek  and 
black  eye  of  one  of  those  houris  to  whom  you  Nazarenes  vow 
rather  such  service  as  is  due  to  Allah  than  such  love  as  may 
lawfully  be  rendered  to  forms  of  clay  like  our  own.     It  has 


152  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

been  thus  assuredly  ;  for  so  hath  man  ever  falren,  even  since 
the  days  of  Sultan  Adam.*' 

"  And  if  it  were  so,  physician/' said  Sir  Kenneth,  sullenly, 
**  what  remedy  ?  '* 

"  Knowledge  is  the  parent  of  power,"  said  El  Hakim,  "as 
valor  supplies  strength.  Listen  to  me.  Man  is  not  as  a 
tree,  bound  to  one  spot  of  earth  ;  nor  is  he  framed  to  cling 
to  one  bare  rock,  like  the  scarce  animated  shell-fish.  Thine 
own  Christian  writings  command  thee,  when  persecuted  in 
one  city,  to  flee  to  another  ;  and  we  Moslem  also  know  that 
Mohammed,  the  Prophet  of  Allah,  driven  forth  from  the 
holy  city  of  Mecca,  found  his  refuge  and  his  helpmates  at 
Medina." 

'^  And  what  dees  this  concern  me  ?"  said  the  Scot. 

"  Much,"  answered  the  physician.  "  Even  the  sage  flies 
the  tempest  which  he  cannot  control.  Use  thy  speed,  there- 
fore, and  fly  from  the  vengeance  of  Richard  to  the  shadow 
of  Saladin's  victorious  banner." 

"  I  might  indeed  hide  my  dishonor,"  said  Sir  Kenneth, 
ironically,  "  in  a  camp  of  infidel  heathens  where  the  very 
phrase  is  unknown.  But  had  I  not  better  partake  more 
fully  in  their  reproach  ?  Does  not  thy  advice  stretch  so  far 
as  to  recommend  me  to  take  the  turban  ?  Methinks  1  want 
but  apostasy  to  consummate  my  infamy." 

"  Blaspheme  not,  Nazarene,"  said  the  physician,  sternly, 
**  Saladin  makes  no  converts  to  the  law  of  the  Prophet, 
save  those  on  whom  its  precepts  shall  work  conviction. 
Open  thine  eyes  to  the  light,  and  the  great  Soldan,  whose 
liberality  is  as  boundless  as  his  power,  may  bestow  on  thee  a 
kingdom  ;  remain  blinded  if  thou  wilt,  and,  being  one 
whose  second  life  is  doomed  to  misery,  Saladin  will  yet,  for 
this  span  of  present  time,  make  thee  rich  and  happy.  But 
fear  not  that  thy  brows  shall  be  bound  with  the  turban,  save 
at  thine  own  free  choice." 

''  My  choice  were  rather,"  said  the  knight,  ''that  my 
writhen  features  should  blacken,  as  they  are  like  to  do,  in 
this  evening's  setting  sun." 

"  Yet  thou  art  not  wise,  Nazarene,"  said  El  Hakim,  *'  td 
reject  this  fair  offer ;  for  I  have  power  with  Saladin,  and 
can  raise  thee  high  in  his  grace.  Look  you,  my  son  ;  this 
Crusade,  as  you  call  your  wild  enterprise,  is  like  a  large 
dromond  parting  asunder  in  the  waves.  Thou  thyself  hast 
borne  terms  of  truce  from  the  kings  and  princes  whose  force 
is  here  assembled  to  the  mighty  Soldan,  and  knew'st  not, 
perchance,  the  full  tenor  of  thine  own  errand." 


% 


THE  TALISMAN  Ib'd 

**1  knew  not,  and  I  care  not,"  said  the  knight,  im- 
patiently ;  ''  what  avails  it  to  me  that  I  have  been  of  lute 
the  envoy  of  princes,  when,  ere  night,  I  shall  be  a  gibbeted 
and  dishonored  corse  ?  " 

"Nay,  I  speak  that  it  may  not  be  so  with  thee,"  said  the 
physician.  ''Saladin  is  courted  on  all  sides  :  the  combined 
princes  of  this  league  formed  against  him  have  made  such 
proposals  of  composition  and  peace  as,  in  other  circumstances, 
it  might  have  become  his  honor  to  have  granted  to  them. 
Others  have  made  private  offers,  on  their  own  separate  ac- 
30unt,  to  disjoin  their  forces  from  the  camp  of  the  kings  of 
Frangistan,  and  even  to  lend  their  arms  to  the  defense  of 
the  standard  of  the  Prophet.  But  Saladin  will  not  be  served 
by  such  treacherous  and  interested  defection.  The  King  of 
Kings  will  treat  only  with  the  Lion  King  :  Saladin  will  hold 
treaty  with  none  but  the  Melech  Ric,  and  with  him  he  will 
treat  like  a  prince,  or  fight  like  a  champion.  To  Eichard 
he  will  yield  such  conditions  of  his  free  liberality  as  the 
swords  of  all  Europe  could  never  compel  from  him  by  force 
or  terror.  He  will  permit  a  free  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem, 
and  all  the  places  where  the  Nazarenes  list  to  worship  ;  nay, 
he  will  so  far  share  even  his  empire  with  his  brother  Richard, 
that  he  will  allow  Chistian  garrisons  in  the  six  strongest 
cities  of  Palestine,  and  one  in  Jerusalem  itself,  and  suffer 
them  to  be  under  the  immediate  command  of  the  officers  of 
Richard,  who,  he  consentSj  shall  bear  the  name  of  King 
Guardian  of  Jerusalem.  Yet  farther,  strange  and  incredible 
as  you  may  think  it,  know,  sir  knight — for  to  your  honor  I 
can  commit  even  that  almost  incredible  secret — know  that 
Saladin  will  put  a  sacred  seal  on  this  happy  union  betwixt 
the  bravest  and  noblest  of  Frangistan  and  Asia,  by  raising  to 
the  rank  of  his  royal  spouse  a  Christian  damsel,  allied  in 
blood  to  King  Richard,  and  known  by  the  name  of  the  Lady 
Edith  of  Plantagenet."* 

"Ha  !  say'st  thou  ?"  exclaimed  Sir  Kenneth,  who  listen- 
ing with  indifference  and  apathy  to  the  preceding  part  of  El 
Hakim's  speech,  was  touched  by  this  last  communication,  as 
the  thrill  of  a  nerve,  unexpectedly  jarred,  will  awaken  the 
sensation  of  agony,  even  in  the  torpor  of  palsy.  Then,  mod- 
erating his  tone,  by  dint  of  much  effort,  he  restrained  his 
indignation,  and,  veiling  it  under  the  appearance  of  con- 
temptuous doubt,  he  prosecuted  the  conversation,  in  order 
to  get  as  much  knowledge  as  possible  of  the  plot,  as  he 
deemed  it,  against  the  honor  and  happiness  of  her  whom  he 
*  See  Proposal  of  Marriage.    Note  7. 


154  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL  S 

loved  not  the  less  that  his  passion  had  ruined,  apparently, 
his  fortunes,  at  once,  and  his  honor.  "And  what  Christian,'' 
he  said,  with  tolerable  calmness,  "  would  sanction  a  union 
so  unnatural  as  that  of  a  Christian  maiden  with  an  unbeliev- 
ing Saracen  ? " 

"Thou  art  but  an  ignorant,  bigoted  Nazarene,"  said  the 
Hakim.  ''  Seest  thou  not  how  the  Mohammedan  princes 
daily  intermarry  with  the  noble  Nazarene  maidens  in  Spain, 
without  scandal  either  to  Moor  or  Christian  ?  And  the 
noble  Soldan  will,  in  his  full  confidence  in  the  blood  of 
Eichard,  permit  the  English  maid  the  freedom  which  your 
Frankish  manners  have  assigned  to  women.  He  will  allow 
her  the  free  exercise  of  her  religion — seeing  that,  in  very 
truth,  it  signifies  but  little  to  which  faith  females  are  ad- 
dicted— and  he  will  assign  her  such  place  and  rank  over  all 
the  women  of  his  zenana,  that  she  shall  be  in  every  respect 
his  sole  and  absolute  queen.'* 

*MVhat!"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  "  darest  thou  think,  Moslem, 
that  Richard  would  give  his  kinswoman — a  high-born  and 
virtuous  princess — to  be  at  best,  the  foremost  concubine  in 
the  haram  of  a  misbeliever  ?  Know.  Hakim,  the  meanest  free 
Christian  noble  would  scorn,  on  his  child's  behalf,  such 
splendid  ignominy." 

"  Thou  errest,"  said  the  Hakim  :  "  Philip  of  France,  and 
Henry  of  Champagne,  and  others  of  Richard's  principal 
allies,  have  heard  the  proposal  without  starting,  and  have 
promised,  as  far  as  they  may,  to  forward  an  alliance  that 
may  end  these  wasteful  wars  ;  and  the  wise  arch-priest  of 
Tyre  hath  undertaken  to  break  the  proposal  to  Richard,  not 
doubting  that  he  shall  he  able  to  bring  the  plan  to  good  issue. 
The  Soldan's  wisdom  hath  as  yet  kept  his  proposition  secret 
from  others,  such  as  he  of  Montserrat  and  the  Master  of  the 
Templars,  because  he  knows  they  seek  to  thrive  by  Richard's 
death  or  disgrace,  not  by  his  life  or  honor.  Up,  therefore, 
sir  knight,  and  to  horse.  I  will  give  thee  a  scroll  which 
shall  advance  thee  highly  with  the  Soldan  ;  and  deem  not 
that  you  are  leaving  your  country,  or  her  cause,  or  her 
religion,  since  the  interest  of  the  two  nionarchs  will  speedily 
be  the  same.  To  Saladin  thy  counsel  will  be  most  acceptable, 
since  thou  canst  make  him  aware  of  much  concerning  the 
marriages  of  the  Christians,  the  treatment  of  their  wives, 
and  other  points  of  their  laws  and  usages,  which,  in  the 
course  of  such  treaty,  it  much  concerns  him  that  he  should 
know.  The  right  hand  of  the  Soldan  grasps  the  treasures 
of  the  East,  and  it  is  the  fountain  of  generosity.     Or,  if 


THE  TALISMAN  155 

thou  desirest  it,  Saladin,  when  allied  with  England,  can 
have  but  little  difficulty  to  obtain  from  Richard  not  only 
thy  pardon  and  restoration  to  favor,  but  an  honorable  com- 
mand in  the  troops  which  may  be  left  of  tlie  King  of 
England's  host  to  maintain  their  joint  government  in  Pal- 
estine, Up,  then,  and  mount  ;  there  lies  a  plain  path 
before  thee.'* 

"Hakim,"  said  the  Scottish  knight,  "thou  art  a  man  of 
peace  ;  also,  thou  hast  saved  the  life  of  Richard  of  England, 
and,  moreover,  of  my  own  poor  esquire,  Strauchan.  I  have, 
therefore,  heard  to  an  end  a  matter  which,  being  propounded 
by  another  Moslem  than  myself,  I  would  have  cut  short  with 
a  blow  of  my  dagger.  Hakim,  in  return  for  thy  kindness,  I 
advise  thee  to  see  that  the  Saracen  who  shall  propose  to 
Richard  a  union  betwixt  the  blood  of  Plantagenet  and  that 
of  his  accursed  race  do  put  on  a  helmet  which  is  capable  to 
endure  such  a  blow  of  a  battle-ax  as  that  which  struck  down 
the  gate  of  Acre.  Certes,  he  will  be  otherwise  placed  beyond 
the  reach  even  of  thy  skill." 

"  Thou  art,  then,  wilfully  determined  not  to  fly  to  the 
Saracen  host  ?  "  said  the  physician.  "  Yet,  remember,  thou 
stayest  to  certain  destruction  ;  and  the  writings  of  thy  law, 
as  well  as  ours,  prohibit  man  from  breaking  into  the  taber- 
nacle of  his  own  life." 

"God  forbid  !"  replied  the  Scot,  crossing  himself  ;  "but 
we  are  also  forbidden  to  avoid  the  punishment  which  oui 
crimes  have  deserved.  And,  since  so  poor  are  thy  thoughts 
of  fidelity.  Hakim,  it  grudges  me  that  I  have  bestowed  my 
good  hound  on  thee,  for,  should  he  live,  he  will  have  a  master 
ignorant  of  his  value." 

"  A  gift  that  is  begrudged  is  already  recalled,"  said  El 
Hakim,  "  only  we  physicians  are  sworn  not  to  send  away  a 
patient  uncured.  If  the  dog  recover,  he  is  once  more 
yours." 

"Go  to.  Hakim,"  answered  Sir  Kenneth;  "men  speak 
not  of  hawk  and  hound,  when  there  is  but  an  hour  of  day- 
jreaking  betwixt  them  and  death.  Leave  me  to  recollect 
aiy  sins  and  reconcile  myself  to  Heaven." 
:  "1  leave  thee  in  thine  obstinacy,"  said  the  physician: 
' '  the  mist  hides  the  precipice  from  those  who  are  doomed  to 
'all  over  it." 

He  withdrew  slowly,  turning  from  time  to  time  his  head, 
IS  if  to  observe  whether  the  devoted  knight  might  not  recall 
lim  either  by  word  or  signal.  At  last  his  turbaned  figure 
vas  lost  among  the  labyrinth  of  tents  which  lay  extended 


i 


156  WA  VERLE  T  NO  VEL8 

beneath,  whitening  in  the  pale  light  of  the  dawning,  before 
which  the  moonbeam  had  now  faded  away. 

But  although  the  physician  Adonbec's  words  had  not  made: 
that  impression  upon  Kenneth  wliich  the  sage  desired,  they 
had  inspired  the  Scot  with  a  motive  for  desiring  life,  which, 
dishonored  as  he  conceived  himself  to  be,  he  was  before  will- . 
ing  to  part  from  as  from  a  sullied  vestment  no  longer  be-' 
coming  his  wear.  Much  that  had  passed  betwixt  himself  and 
the  hermit,  besides  what  he  had  observed  between  the  an- 
chorite and  Skeerkohf  (or  Ilderim),  he  now  recalled  to  recol- 
lection, and  [all]  tended  to  confirm  what  the  Hakim  had 
told  him  of  the  secret  article  of  the  treaty. 

•*  The  reverend  impostor  ! "  he  exclaimed  to  himself — "  the 
hoary  hypocrite  !  He  spoke  of  the  unbelieving  husband  con- 
verted by  the  believing  wife ;  and  what  do  I  know  but 
that  the  traitor  exhibited  to  the  Saracen,  accursed  of  God, 
the  beauties  of  Edith  Plantagenet,  that  the  hound  might 
judge  if  the  princely  Christian  lady  were  fit  to  be  admitted 
into  the  haram  of  a  misbeliever  ?  If  I  had  yonder  infidel 
Ilderim,  or  whatsoever  he  is  called,  again  in  the  gripe  with 
which  I  once  held  him  fast  as  ever  hound  held  hare,  never 
again  should  7ie  at  least  come  on  errand  disgraceful  to  the 
honor  of  Christian  king  or  noble  and  virtuous  maiden.  But 
I — my  hours  are  fast  dwindling  into  minutes ;  yet,  while  I 
have  life  and  breath,  something  must  be  done,  and  speedily." 

He  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  threw  from  him  his  helmet, 
then  strode  down  the  hill,  and  took  the  road  to  King  Eich- 
ftrd's  pavilion. 


CHAPTER  XV 


The  feather'd  songster,  chanticleer, 

Had  wound  his  bugle-horn, 
And  told  the  early  villager 

The  coming  of  the  morn. 
King  Edward  saw  the  ruddy  streaks 

Of  light  eclipse  the  gray. 
And  heard  the  raven's  croaking  throat 

Proclaim  the  fated  day. 
"  Thou'rt  riglit,"  he  said,  "  for,  by  the  God 

That  sits  enthroned  on  high, 
Charles  Bawdwin,  and  his  fellows  twain, 

This  day  shall  surely  die. " 

Chatterton. 

On  the  evening  on  which  Sir  Kenneth  assumed  his  post, 
Eichard,  after  the  stormy  event  which  disturbed  its  tran- 
quillity, had  retired  to  rest  in  the  plenitude  of  confidence 
inspired  by  his  unbounded  courage,  and  the  superiority 
which  he  had  displayed  in  carrying  the  point  he  aimed  at  in 
presence  of  the  whole  Christian  host  and  its  leaders,  many 
of  whom,  he  was  aware,  regarded  in  their  secret  souls  the 

I  disgrace  of  the  Austrian  Duke  as  a  triumph  over  themselves  ; 

'  so  that  his  pride  felt  gratified  that,  in  prostrating  one  enemy, 

I  he  had  mortified  a  hundred. 

Another  monarch  would  have  doubled  his  guards  on  the 

i  evening  after  such  a  scene,  and  kept  at  least  a  part  of  his 

I  troops  under  arms.  But  Coeur-de-Lion  dismissed,  upon  the 
occasion,  even  his  ordinary  watch,  and  assigned  to  his  sol- 
diers a  donative  of  wine  to  celebrate  his  recovery,  and  to 
drink  to  the  banner  of  St,  George  ;  and  his  quarter  of  the 
camp  would  have  assumed  a  character  totally  devoid  of 
vigilance  and  military  preparation,  but  that  Sir  Thomas  de 
Vaux,  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  and  other  nobles,  took  precau- 
tions to  preserve  order  and  discipline  among  the  revelers. 

The  physician  attended  the  King  from  his  retiring  to  bed 
till  midnight  was  past,  and  twice  administered  medicine  to 
Ihim  during  that  period,  always  previously  observing  the 
quarter  of  heaven  occupied  by  the  full  moon,  whose  influ- 
ences he  declared  to  be  most  sovereign,  or  most  baleful,  to 
157 


158  WA  VERLE Y  NO VEL S 

the  effect  of  his  drugs.  It  was  three  hours  after  midnight 
ere  El  Hakim  withdrew  from  the  royal  tent,  to  one  which 
had  been  pitched  for  himself  and  his  retinue.  In  his  way 
thither  he  visited  the  tent  of  Sir  Kenneth  of  the  Leopard, 
in  order  to  see  the  condition  of  his  first  patient  in  the  Chris- 
tian camp,  old  Strauchan,  as  the  knight's  esqiiire  was 
named.  Inquiring  there  for  Sir  Kenneth  himself.  El  Hakim 
learned  on  what  duty  he  was  employed,  and  probably  this  in- 
formation led  him  to  St.  George's  Mount,  where  he  found 
him  whom  he  sought  in  the  disastrous  circumstances  alluded 
to  in  the  last  chapter. 

It  was  about  the  hour  of  sunrise,  when  a  slow,  armed 
tread  was  heard  approaching  the  King's  pavilion  ;  and  ere 
De  Vaux,  who  slumbered  beside  his  master's  bed  as  lightly 
as  ever  sleep  sat  upon  the  eyes  of  a  watch-dog,  had  time  to 
do  more  than  arise  and  say,  "  Who  comes  ?"  the  Knight  of 
the  Leopard  entered  the  tent,  with  a  deep  and  devoted 
gloom  seated  upon  his  manly  features. 

"  Whence  this  bold  intrusion,  sir  knight  ?"  said  De  Vaux, 
sternly,  yet  in  a  tone  which  respected  his  master's  slumbers. 

"  Hold  !  De  Vaux,"  said  Richard,  awaking  on  the  instant ; 
"  Sir  Kenneth  cometh  like  a  good  soldier  to  render  an  ac- 
count of  his  guard  ;  to  such  the  general's  tent  is  ever  accessi- 
ble.'^ Then  rising  from  his  slumbering  posture,  and  leaning 
on  his  elbow,  he  fixed  his  large  bright  eye  upon  the  warrior. 
"  Speak,  sir  Scot ;  thou  comest  to  tell  me  of  a  vigilant,  safe, 
and  honorable  watch,  dost  thou  not  ?  The  rustling  of  the 
folds  of  the  banner  of  England  were  enough  to  guard  it, 
even  without  the  body  of  such  a  knight  as  men  hold  thee."' 

"  As  men  will  hold  me  no  more,'"  said  Sir  Kenneth.  "  My 
watch  hath  neither  been  vigilant,  safe,  nor  honorable.  The 
banner  of  England  has  been  carried  off." 

''And  thou  alive  to  tell  it  ?"  said  Richard,  in  a  tone  of 
derisive  incredulity.  ''Away,  it  cannot  be.  There  is  not 
even  a  scratch  on  thy  face.  Why  dost  thou  stand  thus 
mute  ?  Speak  the  truth  ;  it  is  ill  jesting  with  a  king,  yet  I 
will  forgive  thee  if  thou  hast  lied." 

"  Lied,  Sir  King  ! "  returned  the  unfortunate  knight,  with 
fierce  emphasis,  and  one  glance  of  fire  from  his  eye,  bright 
and  transient  as  the  flash  from  the  cold  and  stony  flint. , 
"But  this  also  must  be  endured.  I  have  spoken  the 
truth." 

"  By  God  and  by  St.  George ! "  said  the  King,  bursting 
into  fury,  which,  however,  he  instantly  checked.  "■  De  Vaux, 
go  view  the  spot.     This  fever  has  disturbed  his  brain.     This 


THE  TALISMAN  159 

cannot  be.  The  man's  courage  is  proof.  It  cannot  be  ! 
Go  speedily  ;  or  send,  if  thou  wilt  not  go." 

The  King  was  interrupted  by  Sir  Henry  Neville,  who 
came,  breathless,  to  say  that  the  banner  was  gone,  and  the 
knight  who  guarded  it  overpowered,  and  most  probably 
murdered,  as  there  w^as  a  pool  of  blood  where  the  banner- 
spear  lay  shivered. 

"But  whom  do  I  see  here  ?"  said  Neville,  his  eyes  sud- 
denly resting  upon  Sir  Kenneth. 

"  A  traitor,"  said  the  King,  starting  to  his  feet,  and  seiz- 
ing the  curtal  ax,  which  was  ever  near  his  bed — "a  traitor, 
whom  thou  shalt  see  die  a  traitor's  death."  And  he  drew 
back  the  weapon  as  in  act  to  strike. 

Colorless,  but  firm  as  a  marble  statue,  the  Scot  stood  be- 
fore him,  with  his  bare  head  uncovered  by  any  protection, 
his  eyes  cast  down  to  the  eartli,  his  lips  scarcely  moving,  yet 
muttering  probably  in  prayer.  Opposite  to  him,  and  within 
the  due  reach  for  a  blow,  stood  King  Eichard,  his  large  per- 
son wrapt  in  the  folds  of  his  camiscia,  or  ample  gown  of 
linen,  except  where  the  violence  of  his  action  had  flung  the 
covering  from  his  right  arm,  shoulder,  and  a  part  of  his 
breast,  leaving  to  view  a  specimen  of  a  frame  which  might 
have  merited  his  Saxon  predecessor's  epithet  of  Ironside. 
He  stood  for  an  instant,  prompt  to  strike  ;  then  sinking  the 
head  of  the  weapon  towards  the  ground,  he  exclaimed,  "  But 
there  was  blood,  Neville — there  was  blood  upon  the  place. 
Hark  thee,  -sir  Scot,  brave  thou  wert  once,  for  I  have  seen 
thee  fight.  Say  thou  hast  slain  two  of  the  thieves  in  de- 
fense of  the  standard — say  but  one — say  thou  hast  struck 
but  a  good  blow  in  our  behalf,  and  get  thee  out  of  the  camp 
with  thy  life  and  thy  infamy  ! " 

"  You  have  called  me  liar,  my  Lord  King,"  replied  Ken- 
neth, firmly;  "and  tlierein,  at  least,  you  have  done  me 
wrong.  Know,  that  there  was  no  blood  shed  in  defense  of 
the  standard  save  that  of  a  poor  hound,  which,  more  faith- 
ful than  his  master,  defended  the  charge  which  he  deserted." 

"Now,  by  St.  George  !"  said  Eichard,  again  heaving  up 
his  arm.  But  De  Vaux  threw  himself  between  the  King  and 
the  object  of  his  vengeance,  and  spoke  with  the  blunt  truth 
of  his  character — "  My  liege,  this  must  not  be — here — nor 
by  your  own  hand.  It  is  enough  of  folly  for  one  night  and 
day  to  have  entrusted  your  banner  to  a  Scot  ;  said  I  not  they 
were  eve**  fair  and  false  ?"* 

"Thor  didst,  De  Vaux  ;  thou   wast  right,  and  I  confess 

*  See  -Scots,  Fair  and  False.    Note  8. 


160  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

it,"  said  Richard.  "1  should  have  known  him  better— 1 
should  have  remembered  how  the  fox  William  deceived  me 
touching  this  Crusade." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  "  William  of  Scotland  never 
deceived;  but  circumstances  prevented  his  bringing  his 
forc6S 

"  Peace,  shameless  !  "  said  the  King  ;  ''thou  sulliest  the 
name  of  a  prince,  even  by  speaking  it.  And  yet,  De  Vaux, 
it  is  strange,"  he  added,  "  to  see  the  bearing  of  the  man. 
Coward  or  traitor  he  must  be,  yet  he  abode  the  blow  of 
Richard  Plantagenet,  as  our  arm  had  been  raised  to  lay 
knighthood  on  his  shoulder.  Had  he  shown  the  slightest 
sign  of  fear— had  but  a  Joint  trembled,  or  an  eyelid  quivered 
— I  had  shattered  his  head  like  a  crystal  goblet.  But  I  can- 
not strike  where  there  is  neither  fear  nor  resistance." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  My  lord "  said  Kenneth. 

''  Ha  ! "  replied  Richard,  interrupting  him,  "  hast  thou 
found  thy  speech  ?  Ask  grace  from  Heaven,  but  none  from 
me,  for  England  is  dishonored  through  thy  fault ;  and  wert 
thou  mine  own  and  only  brother,  there  is  no  pardon  for  thy 
fault."  ^,     .^    ^ 

"  I  speak  not  to  demand  grace  of  mortal  man,  said  the 
Scot ;  ''  it  is  in  your  Grace's  pleasure  to  give  or  refuse  me 
time  for  Christian  shrift ;  if  man  denies  it,  may  God  grant 
me  the  absolution  which  I  would  otherwise  ask  of  His  church  ! 
But  whether  I  die  on  the  instant  or  half  an  hour  hence,  I 
equally  beseech  your  Grace  for  one  moment's  opportunity  to 
speak  that  to  your  royal  person  which  highly  concerns  your, 
fame  as  a  Christian  king." 

"  Say  on,"  said  the  King,  making  no  doubt  that  he  was 
about  to  hear  some  confession  concerning  the  loss  of  the 
banner. 

"  What  I  have  to  speak,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  ''  touches  the 
royalty  of  England,   and  must  be  said  to  no  ears  but  thine 

''Begone  with  yourselves,  sirs,"  said  the  King  to  Neville 
and  De  Vaux. 

The  first  obeyed,  but  the  latter  would  not  stir  from  the 
King's  presence. 

"  If  yon  said  I  was  in  the  right,"  replied  De  Vaux  to  his 
sovereign,  "  I  will  be  treated  as  one  should  be  who  hath  been 
found  to  be  right— that  is,  I  will  have  my  own  will.  I  leave 
you  not  with  this  false  Scot." 

"  How  !     De  Vaux,"  said  Richard,  angrily,  and  stamping 


THE  TALISMAN  161 

Blightl}^  ''  darest  thou  not  venture  our  person  with  one 
traitor  ?  " 

"It  is  in  vain  you  frown  and  stamp,  my  lord/^  said  De 
Vaux  ;  "  I  venture  not  a  sick  man  with  a  sound  one,  a  naJied 
man  with  one  armed  in  proof." 

"  It  matters  not,"  said  the  Scottish  knight  ;  "I  seek  no 
excuse  to  put  off  time,  I  will  speak  in  presence  of  the  Lord 
of  Gilsland.     He  is  good  lord  and  true." 

"  But  half  an  hour  since,"  said  De  Vaux,  with  a  groan, 
implying  a  mixture  of  sorrow  and  vexation,  "and  I  had  said 
as  much  for  thee." 

"  There  is  treason  around  you.  King  of  England,"  con- 
tinued Sir  Kenneth. 

"  It  may  well  be  as  thou  say'st,"  replied  Richard,  "  I  have 
a  pregnant  example." 

"Treason  that  will  injure  thee  more  deeply  than  the  loss 
of  an  hundred  banners  in  a  pitched  field.  The — the  " — Sir 
Kenneth  hesitated,  and  at  length  continued,  in  a  lower  tone — 
"  the  Lady  Edith " 

"  Ha  ! "  said  the  King,  drawing  himself  suddenly  into  a 
■  state  of  haughty  attention,  and  fixing  his  eye  firmly  on  the 
supposed  criminal.  "  What  of  her  ? — what  of  her  ? — what 
has  she  to  do  with  this  matter  ?  " 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  Scot,  "  there  is  a  scheme  on  foot  to 
disgrace  your  royal  lineage,  by  bestowing  the  hand  of  the 
Lady  Edith  on  the  Saracen  Soldan,  and  thereby  to  purchase 
a  peace  most  ■  dishonorable  to  Christendom,  by  an  alliance 
most  shameful  to  England." 

This  communication  had  precisely  the  contrary  effect  from 
,  that  which  Sir  Kenneth  expected.  Eichard  Plautagenet 
j  was  one  of  those  who,  in  lago's  words,  would  not  serve  God 
'■  because  it  was  the  devil  who  bade  him  :  advice  or  informa- 
tion often  affected  him  less  according  to  its  real  import  than 
through  the  tinge  which  it  took  from  the  supposed  character 
and  views  of  those  by  whom  it  was  communicated.  Unfortu- 
nately, the  mention  of  his  relative's  name  renewed  his  recol- 
I  lection  of  what  he  had  considered  as  extreme  pi'esumption 
i  in  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard,  even  when  he  stood  high  in 
the  rolls  of  chivalry,  but  which,  in  his  present  condition, 
appeared  an  insult  sufficient  to  drive  the  fiery  monarch  into 
a  frenzy  of  passion. 

"Silence,"   he    said,   *' infamous    and    audacious!      By 

i  Heaven,  I  will  have  thy  tongue  torn  out  with  hot  pincers, 

:  for  mentioning  the  very  name  of  a  noble  Christian  damsel. 

Know,  degenerate  traitor,  that  I  was  already  aware  to  what 

II 


162  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

height  thou  hadst  dared  to  raise  thine  eyes,  and  endured  it, 
though  it  were  insolence,  even  when  thou  liadst  cheated  ns— 
for  thou  art  all  a  deceit — into  holding  thee  as  of  some  name 
and  fame.  But  now,  with  Yips  blistered  with  the  confession 
of  thine  own  dishonor — that  thou  shouldst  now  dare  to  name 
our  noble  kinswoman  as  one  in  whose  fate  thou  hast  part  or 
interest !  AVhat  is  it  to  thee  if  she  marry  Saracen  or  Christian  ? 
What  is  it  to  thee  if,  in  a  camp  where  princes  turn  cowards 
by  day  and  robbers  by  night — where  brave  knights  turn  to 
paltry  deserters  and  traitors — what  is  it,  I  say  ;  to  thee  or  any 
one,  if  I  should  please  to  ally  myself  to  truth  and  to  valor  in 
the  person  of  Saladin  ?  " 

"  Little  to  me,  indeed,  to  whom  all  the  world  will  soon  be 
as  nothing,"  answered  Sir  Kenneth,  boldly  ;  "  but  were  I 
now  stretched  on  the  rack,  I  would  tell  thee,  that  what  I  have 
said  is  much  to  thine  own  conscience  and  thine  own  fame.  I 
tell  thee,  sir  king,  that  if  thou  dost  but  in  thought  entertain 
the  purpose  of  wedding  thy  kinswoman,  the  Lady  Edith " 

"  Name  her  not — and  for  an  instant  think  not  of  her/' 
said  the  King,  again  straining  the  curtal  ax  in  his  gripe, 
until  the  muscles  started  above  his  brawny  arm,  like  cordage 
formed  by  the  ivy  around  the  limb  of  an  oak. 

"Not  name — not  tbink  of  her  !"  answered  Sir  Kenneth, 
his  spirits,  stunned  as  they  were  by  self-depression,  beginning 
to  recover  their  elasticity  from  this  species  of  controversy. 
"Now,  by  the  Cross,  on  which  I  place  my  hope,  her  name 
shall  be  the  last  word  in  my  mouth,  her  image  the  last 
thought  in  my  mind.  Try  thy  boasted  strength  on  this  hare 
brow,  and  see  if  thou  canst  prevent  my  purpose." 

"He  will  drive  me  mad  \"  said  Eichard,  who,  in  his  de- 
spite, was  once  more  staggered  in  his  purpose  by  the  daunt- 
less determination  of  the  criminal. 

Ere  Thomas  of  Gilsland  could  reply,  some  bustle  was  heard 
without,  and  the  arrival  of  the  Queen  was  announced  frsm 
the  outer  part  of  the  pavilion. 

"  Detain  her — detain  her,  Neville,"  cried  the  King  ;  "  this 
is  no  sight  for  women.  Fie,  that  I  have  sulfered  such  a  jftiti 
paltry  traitor  to  chafe  me  thus  !  Away  with  h,im,  De  Vans  " 
he  whispered,  "  through  the  back  entrance  oi' our  tent ;  coop  l|||, 
him  up  close,  and  answer  for  his  safe  custody  with  your  life.  |  idj, 
And  harkye,  he  is  presently  to  die  ;  let  him  have  a  ghostly  i  ijij 
father — we  would  not  kill  soul  and  body.  And  stay,  hark  I  L,], 
thee,  we  will  not  have  him  dishonored  :  he  .shall  die  knight-  j  ^( 
like,  in  his  belt  and  spurs  ;  for  if  his  treachery  be  as  black  as  I  uj 
hell,  his  boldness  may  match  that  of  the  devil  himself."  |^ 


THE  TALISMAN  163 

De  Vaux,  right  glad,  if  the  truth  may  be  guessed,  that  the 
scene  ended  without  Richard's  descending  to  the  unkingly 
act  of  himself  slaying  an  unresisting  prisoner,  made  haste  to 
remove  Sir  Kenneth  by  a  private  issue  to  a  separate  tent, 
where  he  was  disarmed  and  put  in  fetters  for  security.  De 
Vaux  looked  on  with  a  steady  and  melancholy  attention,  while 
the  provost's  officers,  to  whom  Sir  Kenneth  was  now  com- 
mitted, took  these  severe  precautions. 

When  they  were  ended,  he  said  solemnly  to  the  unhappy 
criminal,  *'It  is  King  Richard's  pleasure  that  you  die  unde- 
graded,  without  mutilation  of  your  body  or  shame  to  your 
arms,  and  that  your  head  be  severed  from  the  trunk  by  the 
sword  of  the  executioner." 

I  "It  is  kind,"  said  the  knight,  in  a  low  and  rather  submis- 
|sive  tone  of  voice,  as  one  who  received  an  unexpected  favor  ; 
'*'my  family  will  not  then  hear  the  worst  of  the  tale.  Oh, 
my  father — my  father  !" 

This  muttered  invocation  did  hot  escape  the  blunt  but 
kiudly-natured  Englishman,  and  he  brushed  the  back  of  his 
large  hand  over  his  rough  features,  ere  he  could  proceed. 
!  "  It  is  Richard  of  England's  farther  pleasure,"  he  said,  at 
llength,  "  that  you  have  speech  with  a  holy  man,  and  I  have 
met  on  the  passage  hither  with  a  Carmelite  friar,  who  may 
fit  you  for  your  passage.  He  waits  without,  until  you  are  in 
%  frame  of  mind  to  receive  him." 

"Let  it  be  instantly,"  said  the  knight.  "In  this  also 
Richard  is  kind.  I  cannot  be  more  fit  to  see  the  good  father 
lit  any  time  than  now  ;  for  life  and  I  have  taken  farewell,  as 
:wo  travelers  who  have  arrived  at  the  crossway,  where  their 
•oads  separate." 

1  "It  is  well,"  said  De  Vaux,  slowly  and  solemnly  ;  ''for  it 
;rks  me  somewhat  to  say  that  which  sums  my  message.  It 
s  King  Richard's  pleasure  that  you  prepare  for  instant 
leath." 

"  God's  pleasure  and  the  King's  be  done,"  replied  the 
:night,  patiently.  "  I  neither  contest  the  justice  of  the 
,entence  nor  desire  delay  of  the  execution." 
i  De  Vaux  began  to  leave  the  tent,  but  very  slowly  ;  paused 
t  the  door,  and  looked  back  at  the  Scot,  from  whose  aspect 
houghts  of  the  world  seemed  banished,  as  if  he  was  compos- 
ng  himself  into  deep  devotion.  The  feelings  of  the  stout 
;!lnglish  baron  were  in  general  none  of  the  most  acute,  and 
iet,  on  the  present  occasion,  his  sympathy  overpowered  him 
a  an  unusual  manner.  He  came  hastily  back  to  the  bundle 
t  reeds  on  which  the  captive  lay,  took  one  of  his  fettered 


164  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

hands,  and  said,  with  as  much  softness  as  his  rough  voice  was 
capable  of  expressing,  "  Sir  Kenneth,  thou  art  yet  young — 
thou  liast  a  father.  My  Ralph,  whom  I  left  training  his  little 
Galloway  nag  on  the  banks  of  the  Irthing,  may  one  day 
attain  thy  years  ;  and,  but  for  last  night,  would  to  God  1 
saw  his  youth  bear  such  promise  as  thine  !  Can  nothing  be 
said  or  done  in  thy  behalf  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  melancholy  answer.  "  I  have  deserted 
my  charge — the  banner  entrusted  to  me  is  lost.  When  the 
headsman  and  block  are  prepared,  the  head  and  trunk  are 
ready  to  part  company.*' 

"Nay,  then,  God  have  mercy!"  said  De  Vaux  ;  "yet 
would  I  rather  than  my  best  horse  I  had  taken  that  watch 
myself.  There  is  mystery  in  it,  young  man,  as  a  plain  man 
may  descry,  though  he  cannot  see  through  it.  Cowardice  ? 
pshaw  !  No  coward  ever  fought  as  I  have  seen  thee  do. 
Treachery  ?  I  cannot  think  traitors  die  in  their  treason  so 
calmly.  "Thou  hast  been  trained  from  thy  post  by  some  deep 
guile — some  well-devised  stratagem  :  the  cry  of  some  dis- 
tressed maiden  has  caught  thine  ear,  or  the  laughful  look  of 
some  merry  one  has  taken  thine  eye.  Never  blush  for  it,  we 
have  all  been  led  aside  by  such  gear.  Come,  I  pray  thee, 
make  a  clean  conscience  of  it  to  me,  instead  of  the  priest. 
Richard  is  merciful  when  his  mood  is  abated.  Hast  thou 
nothing  to  entrust  to  me  ?" 

The  unfortunate  knight  turned  his  face  from  the  kind 
warrior,  and  answered,  "Nothing." 

And  De  Vaux,  who  had  exhausted  his  topics  of  persuasion, 
arose  and  left  the  tfnt,  with  folded  arms,  and  in  melancholy 
deeper  than  he  tliought  the  occasion  merited,  even  angry 
with  himself  to  find  that  so  simple  a  matter  as  the  death  of  j  ie 
a  Scottishman  could  affect  him  so  nearly. 

"  Yet,"  as  he  said  to  himself,  "though  the  rough-footed 
knaves  be  our  enemies  in  Cumberland,  in  Palestine  one  al- 
most considers  them  as  brethren." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

**  Tis  not  her  sense — for  sure,  in  that 

There's  notliing  more  than  common ; 
And  all  her  wit  is  only  chat, 
Like  any  other  woman. 

Song. 

The  high-born  Berengaria,  daughter  of  Sanchez,  King  of 
Navarre,  and  the  Queen-Consort  of  the  heroic  Richard,  was 
accounted  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  of  the  period. 
Her  form  was  slight,  though  exquisitely  molded.     She  was 
I    graced  with  a  complexion  not   common  in   her  country,  a 
j    profusion  of  fair  hair,  and  features  so  extremely  juvenile  as 
I    to  make  her  look  several  years  younger  than  she  really  was, 
i   though  in  reality  she  was  not  above  one-and-twenty.    Perhaps 
j  it  was  under  the  consciousness  of  this  extremely  juvenile  ap- 
j  pearance  that  she  affected,  or  at  least   practised,   a  little 
childish  petulance  and  wilfulness  of  manner,  not  unbefitting, 
she  might  suppose,  a  youthful  bride,   whose  rank  and  age 
gave  her  a  right  to  have  her  fantasies  indulged  and  attended 
to.     She  was  by  nature  perfectly  good-humored,  and  if  her 
due  share  of  admiration  and  homage  (in  her  opinion  a  very 
large  one)  was  duly  resigned  to  her,  no  one  could  possess 
better  temper  or  a  more  friendly  disposition  ;  but  then,  like 
i  all  despots,  the  more  power  that  was  voluntarily  yielded  to 
!  her,  the  more  she  desired  to  extend  her  sway.     Sometimes, 
'  even  when  all  her  ambition  was  gratified,  she  chose  to  be  a 
little  out  of  health  and  a  little  out  of  spirits  ;  and  physicians 
had  to  toil  their  wits  to  invent  names  for  imaginary  maladies, 
j  while  her  ladies  racked  their  imagination  for  new  games, 
I  new  headgear,  and  new  court-scandal,   to  pass  away  those 
unpleasant  hours,    during   which    their  own  situation  was 
scarce  to  be  greatly  envied.     Their  most  frequent  resource 
for  diverting  this  malady  was  some  trick,   or  piece  of  mis- 
chief, practised  upon  each  other  ;  and  the  good  queen,  in 
'the  buoyancy  of  her  reviving  spirits,  was,  to  speak  truth, 
Tather  too  indifferent  whether  the  frolics  thus  practised  were 
entirely  befitting  her  own  dignity,  or  whether  the  pain  which 
those  suffered  upon  whom  they  were  inflicted  was  not  beyond 
the  proportion  of  pleasure  which  she  herself  derived  from 
'     "   '  165 


166  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

them.  She  was  confident  in  her  husband's  favor,  in  her  high 
rank,  and  in  her  supposed  power  to  make  good  whatever 
such  pranks  might  cost  others.  In  a  word,  she  gamboled 
with  the  freedom  of  a  young  lioness,  who  is  unconscious  of 
the  weight  of  her  own  paws  when  laid  on  those  whom  she 
sports  with. 

The  Queen  Berengaria  loved  her  husband  passionately, 
but  she  feared  the  loftiness  and  roughness  of  his  character. 
and  as  she  felt  herself  not  to  be  his  match  in  intellect,  was 
not  much  i:)leased  to  see  that  he  would  often  talk  with  Edith 
Piantagenet  in  preference  to  herself,  simply  because  he  found 
more  amusement  in  her  conversation,  a  more  comprehensive 
understanding,  and  a  more  noble  cast  of  thoughts  and  senti- 
ments, than  his  beautiful  consort  exhibited.  Berengaria 
did  not  hate  Edith  on  this  accouut,  far  less  meditate  her 
any  harm  ;  for,  allowing  for  some  selfishness,  her  characti'r 
was,  on  the  whole,  innocent  and  generous.  But  the  ladies 
of  her  train,  sharp-sighted  in  such  matters,  had  for  some 
time  discovered  that  a  poignant  jest  at  the  expense  of  the 
Lady  Edith  was  a  specific  for  relieving  her  Grace  of  Eng- 
land's low  spirits,  and  the  discovery  saved  their  imagination 
much  toil. 

There  was  something  ungenerous  in  this,  because  the  Lady 
Edith  was  understood  to  be  an  orphan  ;  and  though  she  was 
called  Piantagenet,  and  the  Fair  Maid  of  Anjou,  and  admit- 
ted by  Eichard  to  certain  privileges  only  granted  to  the  royal 
family,  and  held  her  place  in  the  circle  accordingly,  yet  few  ■ 
knew,    and   none   acquainted  with   the    court  of'  England  j; 
ventured  to  ask,  in  what  exact  degree  of  relationship  she  > 
stood  to  Coeur-de-Lion.     She  had  come  with  Eleanor,  the 
celebrated  Queen-Mother  of  England,  and  joined  Eichard  at 
Messina,  as  one  of  the  ladies  destined  to  attend  on  Baren- 
garia,  whose  nuptials  then  approached.     Eichard  treated  his 
kinswoman  with  much  respectful  observance,  and  the  Queen 
made  her  her  most  constant  attendant,  and,  even  in  despite 
of  the  petty  jealousy  which  we  have  observed,  treated  her, 
generally,  with  suitable  respect. 

The  ladies  of  the  household  had,  for  a  long  time,  no 
further  advantage  over  Edith  than  might  be  afforded  by  an 
opportunity  of  censuring  a  less  artfully-disposed  head-attire 
or  an  unbecoming  robe  ;  for  the  lady  was  judged  to  be  inferior 
in  these  mysteries.  The  silent  devotion  of  the  Scottish 
knight  did  not,  indeed,  pass  unnoticed  :  his  liveries,  his 
cognizances,  his  feats  of  arms,  his  mottoes  and  devices,  were 
merely  watched,  and  occasionally  made  the  subject  of  a  pass- 


THE  TALISMAN  167 

ing  jest.  But  then  came  the  pilgrimage  of  the  Queen  and 
her  ladies  to  Engaddi — a  journey  which  the  Queen  had  un- 
dertaken under  a  vow  for  the  recovery  of  her  husband's 
health,  and  which  she  had  been  encouraged  to  carry  into 
effect  by  the  Archbishop  of  Tyre  for  a  political  purpose.  It 
was  then,  and  in  the  chapel  at  that  holy  place,  connected 
from  above  with  a  Carmelite  nunnery,  from  beneath  with 
the  cell  of  the  anchorite,  that  one  of  the  Queen's  attendants 
remarked  that  secret  sign  of  intelligence  which  Edith  had 
made  to  her  lover,  and  failed  not  instantly  to  communicate 
it  to  her  Majesty.  The  Queen  returned  from  her  pilgrimage 
enriched  with  this  admirable  recipe  against  dulness  or  ennui, 
and  her  train  was  at  the  same  time  augmented  by  a  present 
of  two  wretched  dwarfs  from  the  dethroned  Queen  of  Jeru- 
salem, as  deformed  and  as  crazy  (the  excellence  of  that  un- 
happy species)  as  any  queen  could  have  desired.  One  of 
Berengaria's  idle  amusements  had  been  to  try  the  effect  of 
the  sudden  appearance  of  such  ghastly  and  fantastic  forms 
on  the  nerves  of  the  knight  when  left  alone  in  the  chapel ; 
but  the  jest  had  been  lost  by  the  composure  of  the  Scot 
and  the  interference  of  the  anchorite.  She  had  now  tried 
another,  of  which  the  consequences  promised  to  be  more 
serious. 

The  ladies  again  met  after  Sir  Kenneth  had  retired  from 
the  tent ;  and  the  Queen,  at  first  little  moved  by  Edith's 
angry  expostulations,  only  replied  to  her  by  upbraiding  her 
prudery,  and  by  indulging  her  wit  at  the  expense  of  the  garb, 
nation,  and,  above  all,  the  poverty,  of  the  Knight  of  the 
Leopard,  in  which  she  displayed  a  good  deal  of  playful  malice, 
mingled  with  some  humor,  until  Edith  was  compelled  to  carry 
her  anxiety  to  her  separate  apartment.  But  when,  in  the 
morning,  a  female,  whom  Edith  had  entrusted  to  make  in- 
quiry, brought  word  that  the  standard  was  missing,  and  its 
champion  vanished,  she  burst  into  the  Queen's  apartment, 
and  implored  her  to  rise  and  proceed  to  the  King's  tent 
without  delay,  and  use  her  powerful  mediation  to  prevent 
the  evil  consequences  of  her  jest. 

The  Queen,  frightened  in  her  turn,  cast,  as  is  usual,  the 
blame  of  her  own  folly  on  those  around  her,  and  endeavored 
to  comfort  Edith's  grief,  and  appease  her  displeasure,  by  a 
thousand  inconsistent  arguments.  She  was  sure  no  harm 
had  chanced  :  the  knight  was  sleeping,  she  fancied,  after  his 
night-watch.  What  though,  for  fear  of  the  King's  displeas- 
ure, he  had  deserted  with  the  standard — it  was  but  a  piece  of 
silk,  and  he  but  a  needy  adventurer  ;  or,  if  he  was  put  under 


168  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

warding  for  a  time,  she  would  soon  get  the  King  to  pardon 
him — it  was  but  waiting  to  let  Richard's  mood  pass  away. 

Thus  she  continued  tcilking  thick  and  fast,  and  heaping 
together  all  sorts  of  inconsistencies,  with  the  vain  expecta- 
tion of  persuading  both  Edith  and  herself  that  no  harm  could 
come  of  a  frolic  which  in  her  heart  she  now  bitterly  repented. 
But  while  Edith  in  vain  strove  to  intercept  this  torrent  of 
idle  talk,  she  caught  the  eye  of  one  of  the  ladies  who  entered 
the  Queen's  apartment.  There  was  death  in  her  look  of 
affright  and  horror,  and  Edith,  at  the  first  glance  of  her 
countenance,  had  sunk  at  once  on  the  earth,  had  not  strong 
necessity,  and  her  own  elevation  of  character,  enabled  her  to 
maintain  at  least  external  composure. 

"  Madam,*'  she  said  to  the  Queen,  "lose  not  another  word 
in  speaking,  but  save  life  ;  if,  indeed,"  she  added,  her  voice 
choking  as  she  said  it,  "  life  may  yet  be  saved." 

"  It  may  be — it  may,"  answered  the  Lady  Calista.  "  I  have 
just  heard  that  he  has  been  brought  before  the  King  ;  it  is 
not  yet  over,  but,"  she  added,  bursting  into  a  vehement  flood 
of  weeping,  in  which  personal  apprehensions  had  some  share, 
*'  it  will  soon,  unless  some  course  be  taken." 

"  I  will  vow  a  golden  candlestick  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre — 
a  shrine  of  silver  to  our  Lady  of  Engaddi— a  pall,  worth  one 
hundred  bezants,  to  St.  Thomas  of  Orthez,"  said  the  Queen, 
in  extremity. 

*'  Up — up,  madam  !"  said  Edith  ;  ''call  on  the  saints  if 
you  list,  but  be  your  own  best  saint." 

"  Indeed,  madam,"  said  the  terrified  attendant,  "  the  Lady 
Edith  speaks  truth.  Up,  madam,  and  let  us  to  King  Richard's 
tent,  and  beg  the  poor  gentleman's  life." 

"  I  will  go— I  will  go  instantly,"  said  the  Queen,  rising 
and  trembling  excessively  ;  while  her  women,  in  as  great  con- 
fusion as  herself,  were  unable  to  render  her  those  duties  which 
were  indispensable  to  her  levee.  Calm,  composed,  only  pale 
as  death,  Edith  ministered  to  the  Queen  with  her  own  hand, 
and  alone  supplied  the  deficiencies  of  her  numerous  attend- 
ants. 

"  How  you  wait,  wenches  ! "  said  the  Queen,  not  able  even 
then  to  forget  frivolous  distinctions.  "  Suffer  ye  the  Lady 
Edith  to  do  the  duties  of  your  attendance  ?  Seest  thou, 
Edith,  they  can  do  nothing  :  I  shall  never  be  attired  in  time. 
We  will  send  for  the  Archbishop  of  Tyre,  and  employ  him  as 
a  mediator." 

('  0  no — no  !  "  exclaimed  Edith.  *'  Go  yourself,  madam ; 
you  have  done  the  evil,  do  you  confer  the  remedy." 


THE  TALISMAN  169 

*'\  will  go — I  will  go,"  said  the  Qneen  ;  ''but  if  Richard 
be  in  his  mood,  I  dare  not  speak  to  him  ;  he  will  kill  me  \'* 

"  Yet  go,  gracious  madam,"  said  the  Lady  Calista,  who 
best  knew  her  mistress's  temper  ;  "not  a  lion,  in  his  fury, 
could  look  upon  such  a  face  and  form,  and  retain  so  much 
as  an  angry  thought,  far  less  a  love-true  knight  like  the 
royal  Richard,  to  whom  your  slightest  word  would  be  a 
command." 

"  Dost  thou  think  so,  Calista  ?  "  said  the  Queen.  "  Ah, 
thou  little  knowest — yet  I  will  go.  But  see  you  here — what 
means  this  ?  You  have  bedizened  me  in  green,  a  color  he 
detests.  Lo  you  !  let  me  have  a  blue  robe,  and — search  for 
the  ruby  carcanet,  which  was  part  of  the  King  of  Cyprus's 
ransom  ;  it  is  either  in  the  steel-casket  or  somewhere  else." 

"  This,  and  a  man's  life  at  stake  ! "  said  Edith,  indig- 
nantly ;  "it  passes  human  patience.  Remain  at  yonr  ease, 
madam  ;  I  will  go  to  King  Richard.  I  am  a  party  inter- 
ested ;  I  will  know  if  the  honor  of  a  poor  maiden  of  his 
blood  is  to  be  so  far  tampered  with,  that  her  name  shall  be 
abused  to  train  a  brave  gentleman  from  his  duty,  bring  him 
within  the  compass  of  death  and  infamy,  and  make,  at  the 
same  time,  the  glory  of  England  a  laughing-stock  to  the 
whole  Christian  army." 

At  this  unexpected  burst  of  passion,  Berengaria  listened 
with  an  almost  stupified  look  of  fear  and  wonder.  But  as 
Edith  was  about  to  leave  the  tent,  she  exclaimed,  though 
faintly,  "  Stop  her — stop  her  !  " 

"You  must  indeed  stop,  noble  Lady  Edith," said  Calista, 
taking  her  arm  gently  ;  "  and  you,  royal  madam,  I  am  sure, 
will  go,  and  without  farther  dallying.  If  the  Lady  Edith 
goes  alone  to  the  King,  he  will  be  dreadfully  incensed,  nor 
Avill  it  be  one  life  that  will  stay  his  fury." 

"  I  will  go — I  will  go,"  said  the  Queen,  yielding  to  neces- 
sity ;  and  Edith  reluctantly  halted  to  wait  her  movements. 

They  were  now  as  speedy  as  she  could  have  desired.  The 
Queen  hastily  wrapped  herself  in  a  large  loose  mantle,  which 
covered  all  inaccuracies  of  the  toilet.  Li  this  guise,  at- 
tended by  Edith  and  her  women,  and  preceded  and  followed 
by  a  few  officers  and  men-at-arms,  she  hastened  to  the  tent 
of  her  lion-like  husband. 


CHAPTER  XVn 

Were  every  hair  upon  his  liead  a  life. 

And  every  life  were  to  be  supplicated 

By  numbers  equal  to  those  hairs  quadrupled, 

Life  after  life  should  out  like  waning  stars 

Before  the  daybreak  ;  or  as  festive  lamps, 

Which  have  lent  luster  to  the  midnight  revel, 

Each  after  each  are  quench'd  when  guests  depart ' 

Old  May. 

The  entrance  of  Queen  Bereugaria  into  the  interior  of  Rich- 
ard's pavilion  was  withstood,  in  the  most  respectful  and 
reverential  manner  indeed,  but  still  withstood,  by  the  cham- 
berlains who  watched  in  the  outer  tent.  She  could  hear  the 
stern  command  of  the  King  from  within,  prohibiting  their 
entrance. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  Queen,  appealing  to  Edith,  as  if  she 
had  exhausted  all  means  of  intercession  in  her  power — "  I 
knew  it  ;  the  King  will  not  receive  us." 

At  the  same  time,  they  heard  Richard  speak  to  some  one 
within — "  Go,  speed  thine  oflfice  quickly,  sirrah,  for  in  that 
consists  thy  mercy  ;  ten  byzants  if  thou  deaFst  on  him  at  one 
blow.  And,  hark  thee,  villain,  observe  if  his  cheek  loses 
color  or  his  eye  falters  ;  mark  me  the  smallest  twitch  of  the 
features  or  wink  of  the  eyelid  ;  I  love  to  know  how  brave 
souls  meet  death." 

"  If  he  sees  my  blade  waved  aloft  without  shrinking,  he  is 
the  first  ever  did  so,"  answered  a  harsh,  deep  voice,  which  a 
sense  of  unusual  awe  had  softened  into  a  sound  much  lower 
than  its  usual  coarse  tones. 

Edith  could  remain  silent  no  longer.  "  If  your  Grace," 
she  said  to  the  Queen,  "  make  not  your  own  way,  I  make  it 
for  you  ;  or  if  not  for  your  Majesty,  for  myself,  at  least. 
Chamberlains,  the  Quoen  demands  to  see  King  Richard — 
the  wife  to  speak  with  her  husband." 

"  Xoble  lady,"  said  the  officer,  lowering  his  wand  of  office, 
*'it  grieves  me  to  gainsay  you  ;  but  his  Majesty  is  busied  on 
matters  of  life  and  death." 

"And  we  seek  also  to  speak  with  him  on  matters  of  life 
and  death,*'  said  Edith.  "  I  will  make  entrance  for  your 
17P 


THE  TALISMAN  171 

Grace,"  and  putting  aside  the  chamberlain  with  one  hand, 
Bhe  laid  hold  on  the  curtain  with  the  otlier. 

"  I  dare  not  gainsay  her  Majesty's  pleasure,"  said  the 
chamberlain,  yielding  to  the  vehemence  of  the  fair  petitioner  ; 
and,  as  he  gave  way,  the  Queen  found  herself  obliged  to  enter 
the  apartment  of  Richard. 

The  monarch  was  lying  on  his  couch,  and  at  some  distance, 
as  awaiting  his  farther  commands,  stood  a  man  whose  pro- 
fession it  was  not  difficult  to  conjecture.     He  was  clothed  in  a 
jerkin  of  red  cloth,  which  reached  scantly  below  the  shoul- 
ders, leaving  the  arms  bare  from  about  half-way  above  the 
elbow,  and,  as  an   upper  garment,  he  wore,   when  about  as 
at  present  to  betake  himself  to  his  dreadful  office,  a  coat  or 
tabard  without  sleeves,  something  like  that  of  a  herald, made  of 
dressed  bull's  hide,  and  stained  in  the  front  with  many  a  broad 
i   spot  and  speckle  of  dull  crimson.     The  jerkin,  and  the  tab- 
i   ard  over  it,  reached  the  knee,  and  the  nether  stocks,  or  cov- 
i  ering  of  the  legs,  were  of  the  same  leather  which  composed 
I  the  tabard.     A  cap  of  rough  shag  served  to  hide  the  upper 
j  part  of  a  visage  which,   like  that  of  a  screech-owl,  seemed 
I  desirous  to  conceal  itself  from  light ;  the  lower  part  of  the 
1  face  being    obscured   by  a  huge  red  beard,   mingling  with 
j  shaggy  locks  of  the  same  color.     What  features  were  seen 
j  were  stern  and  misanthropical.     The  man's  figure  was  short, 
i  strongly  made,  with  a  neck  like  a  bull,  very  broad  shoulders, 
i  arms   of  great  and  disproi:)ortioned  length,   a  huge  square 
I  trunk,  and  thick   bandy  legs.     This  truculent  official  leant 
j  on  a  sword  the  blade  of  which  was  nearly  four  feet  and  a  half 
I  in  length,  while  the  handle  of  twenty  inches,  surrounded  by 
j  a  ring  of  lead  plummets  to  counterpoise  the  weight  of  such 
j  a  blade,  rose  considerably  above  the  man's  head,  as  he  rested 
i  his  arm  upon  its  hilt,  waiting  for  King  Richard's  farther 
i  directions. 

I  On  the  sudden  entrance  of  the  ladies,  Richard,  who  was 
j  then  lying  on  his  couch,  with  his  face  towards  the  entrance, 
j  and  resting  on  his  elbow  as  he  spoke  to  his  grisly  attendant, 
'  flung  himself  hastily,  as  if  displeased  and  surprised,  to  the 
other  side,  turning  his  back  to  the  Queen  and  the  females  of 
:  her  train,  and  drawing  around  him  the  covering  of  his  coucli, 
i  which,  by  his  own  choice,  or  more  probably  tl)e  flattering 
i  selection  of  his  chamberlains,  consisted  of  two  large  lioii's 
skins,  dressed  in  Venice  with  such  admirable  skill  that  they 
i  seemed  softer  than  the  hide  of  the  deer. 

I      Berengaria,  sucii  as  we  have  described  her,  knew  well — 
i  what  woman  knows  not  ? — her  own  road  to  victory.     After  a 


172  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

hurried  glance  of  uudis^uised  and  unaffected  terror  at  the! 
ghastly  companion  of  her  husband's  secret  counsels,  she! 
rushed  at  once  to  tlie  side  of  Eichard's  couch,  dropped  on 
her  knees,  flung  her  mantle  from  her  shoulder,  showing,  as 
they  hung  down  at  their  full  length,  her  beautiful  golden 
tresses,  and  while  her  countenance  seemed  like  the  sun 
bursting  tlirough  a  cloud,  yet  bearing  on  its  pallid  front' 
traces  that  its  splendors  have  been  obscured,  she  seized  upon 
the  right  hand  of  the  King,  which,  as  he  assumed  his  wonted 
posture,  had  been  employed  in  dragging  the  covering  of 
his  couch,  and  gradually  pulling  it  to  her  with  a  force  which 
was  resisted,  though  but  faintly,  she  possessed  herself  of  that 
arm,  the  prop  of  Christendom  and  the  dread  of  Heathenesse, 
and,  imprisoning  its  strength  in  both  her  little  fairy  hands, 
she  bent  upon  it  her  brow,  and  united  to  it  her  lips. 

'*  What  needs  this,  Berengaria  ?"  said  Eichard,  his  head' 
still  averted,  but  his  hand  remaining  under  her  control. 

"  Send  away  that  man — his  look  kills  me  ! "  muttered 
Berengaria. 

'*  Begone,  sirrah,^'  said  Eichard,  still  without  looking 
round,  "  what  wait'st  thou  for  ?  art  thou  fit  to  look  on  these 
ladies  ?*' 

"  Your  Highness's  pleasure  touching  the  head,"  said  the 
man. 

"  Out  with  thee,  dog  ! "  answered  Eichard — "  a  Christian 
burial/' 

The  man  disappeared,  after  casting  a  look  upon  the  beau- 
tiful Queen,  in  her  deranged  dress  and  natural  loveliness,  with 
a  smile  of  admiration  more  hideous  in  its  expression  than 
even  his  usual  scowl  of  cynical  hatred  against  humanity.        '  ''■' 

"And   now,    foolish    wench,    what    wishest  thou?"  said 
Eichard,  turning  slowly    and  half  reluctantly  round  to  his  '?' 
royal  suppliant.  *' 

But  it  was  not  in  nature  for  any  one,  far  less  an  admirer  i.^' 
of  beauty  like  Eichard,  to  whom  it  stood  only  in  the  second  H 
rank  to  glory,  to  look  without  emotion  on  the  countenance  and  '  " 
the  tremor  of  a  creature  so  beautiful  as  Berengaria,  or  to  feel,  i  '''*' 
without  sympathy,  that  her  lips,  her  brow,  were  on  his  hand,  ■  '^ 
and  that  it  was  wetted  by  her  tears.     By  degrees,  he  turned     ■ 
on  her  his  manly  countenance,  with  the  softest  expression  of 
which    his   large   blue    eye,   which    so    often   gleamed   witli 
insufferable  light,  was  capable.     Caressing  her  fair  head,  and 
mingling  his   large  fingers   in  her  beautiful   and  disheveled  ■ 
locks,  he  raised  and  tenderly  kissed  the  cherub  countenance 
which  seemed  desirous  to  hide  itself  in  his  hand.     The  robust    " 


THE  TALISMAN  173 

form,  tlie  broad,  noble  brow,  and  majestic  looks,  the  naked 
arm  and  shoulder,  the  lion's  skins  among  which  he  lay,  and 
the  fair  fragile  feminine  creature  that  kneeled  by  his  side, 
might  have  served  for  a  model  of  Hercules  reconciling  him- 
jself,  after  a  quarrel,  to  his  wife  Dejanira. 
I  '_•  And,  once  more,  what  seeks  the  lady  of  my  heart  in  her 
knight's  pavilion,  at  this  early  and  unwonted  hour  ?  " 

"Pardon,  my  most  gracious  liege — pardon!"  said  the 
Queen,  whose  fears  began  again  to  unfit  her  for  the  duty  of 
intercessor. 

"  Pardon  !  for  what  ?"  asked  the  King. 
!    "First,  for  entering  your  royal  presence  too  boldly  and 
janadvisedly "     She  stopped. 

"  Thou  too  boldly  !  the  sun  might  as  well  ask  pardon 
because  his  rays  entered  the  windows  of  some  wretch's 
'lungeon.  But  I  was  busied  with  work  unfit  for  thee  to 
witness,  my  gentle  one,  and  I  was  unwilling,  besides,  that 
thou  shouldst  risk  thy  precious  health  where  sickness  has  been 
30  lately  rife." 

"  But  thou  art  now  well  ?"  said  the  Queen,  still  delaying 
the  communication  which  she  feared  to  make. 

*'  AVell  enough  to  break  a  lance  on  the  bold  crest  of  that 
champion  wlio  shall  refuse  to  acknowledge  thee  the  fairest 
lame  in  Christendom." 

"  Thou  wilt  not  then  refuse  me  one  boon — only  one — only 
I  poor  life  ?  " 

''  Ha  !  proceed,"  said  King  Richard,  bending  his  brows. 

''This  unhappy  Scottish  knight,"  murmured  the  Queen. 

'•'  Speak  not  of  him,  madam,"  exclaimed  Eichard,  sternly  ; 
'he  dies — his  doom  is  fixed." 

"  Nay,  my  royal  liege  and  love,  'tis  but  a  silken  banner 
leglected  ;  Berengaria  will  give  thee  another  broidered  with 
ler  own  hand,  and  rich  as  ever  dallied  with  the  wind.  Every 
)earl  I  have  shall  go  to  bedeck  it,  and  with  every  pearl  I 
yill  drop  a  tear  of  thankfulness  to  my  generous  knight." 

"  Thou  know'st  not  what  thou  say'st,"  said  the  King, 
nterrupting  her  in  anger.  "  Pearls  !  can  all  the  pearls  of 
he  East  atone  for  a  speck  upon  England's  honor — all  the 
ears  that  ever  woman's  eye  wept  wash  away  a  stain  on 
Richard's  fame  ?  Go  to,  madam,  know  your  place,  and 
our  time,  and  your  sphere.  At  present  we  have  duties  in 
i^hich  you  cannot  be  our  partner." 

'•'  Thou  hear'st,  Edith,"  whispered  the  Qneen,  ''  we  shall 
ut  incense  him.*' 

**  Be  it  so,"  said  Edith,  stepping  forward.       '  My  lord — I, 


174  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

your  poor  kinswoman,  crave  you  for  justice  rather  than 
mercy  and  to  the  cry  of  justice  the  ears  of  a  monarch  should 
be  open  at  every  time,  place,  and  circumstance/' 

"  Ha  !  our  cousin  Edith  !  "  said  Richard,  rising  and  sitting 
upright  on  the  side  of  his  couch,  covered  with  his  long 
camiscia.  "  She  speaks  ever  kinglike,  and  kinglike  will  I 
answer  her,  so  she  bring  no  request  unworthy  herself  or 
me. " 

The  beauty  of  Edith  was  of  a  more  intellectual  and  less 
voluptuous  cast  than  that  of  the  Queen  ;  but  impatience  and 
anxiety  had  given  her  countenance  a  glow  which  it  some- 
times wanted,  and  her  mien  had  a  character  of  energetic 
dignity  that  imposed  silence  for  a  moment  even  on  Eichard 
himself,  who,  to  judge  by  his  looks,  would  willingly  have 
interrupted  her. 

"  My  lord,"  she  said,  "  this  good  knight,  whose  blood  you 
are  about  to  spill,  hath  done,  in  his  time,  service  to  Chris- 
tendom. He  hatii  fallen  from  his  duty  through  a  snare  set 
for  him  in  mere  folly  and  idleness  of  spirit.  A  message  sent 
to  him  in  the  name  of  one  who — why  should  I  not  speaK 
it  ? — it  was  in  my  own — induced  him  for  an  instant  to  leave 
his  post.  And  what  knight  in  the  Christian  camp  might 
not  have  thus  far  transgressed  at  command  of  a  maiden  who, 
poor  howsoever  in  other  qualities,  hath  yet  the  blood  of 
Plantagenet  in  her  veins  ?  " 

''And  you  saw  him,  then,  cousin?"  replied  the  King, 
biting  his  lips  to  keep  down  his  passion. 

"  I  did,  my  liege,"  said  Edith.  "  It  is  no  time  to  explain 
wherefore  :  1  am  here  neither  to  exculpate  myself  nor  to 
blame  others." 

"  And  where  did  you  do  him  such  a  grace  ?" 

"In  the  tent  of  her  Majesty  the  Queen." 

"  Of  onr  royal  consort ! "  said  Richard.  "  Now  by  Heaven, 
by  St.  George  of  England,  and  every  other  saint  that  treads 
its  crystal  floor,  this  is  too  audacious  !  I  have  noticed  and 
overlooked  this  warrior's  insolent  admiration  of  one  so  far 
above  him,  and  I  grudged  him  not  that  one  of  my  blood 
should  shed  from  her  high-born  sphere  such  influence  as 
the  sun  bestows  on  the  world  beneath.  But,  heaven  and 
earth  !  that  you  should  have  admitted  him  to  an  audience 
by  night,  in  the  very  tent  of  our  royal  consort,  and  dare  to 
offer  this  as  an  excuse  for  his  disobedience  and  desertion  1 
By  my  father's  soul,  Edith,  thou  shalt  rue  this  thy  life  long 
in  a  monastery  ! " 

**  My  liege,"  said  Edith,  "  your  greatness  licenses  tyranny. 


THE  TALISMAN  175 

My  honor.  Lord  King,  is  as  little  touched  as  yours,  and  my 
Lady  the  Queen  can  prove  it  if  she  think  fit.  But  I  have 
already  said,  I  am  not  here  to  excuse  myself  or  inculpate 
others.  I  ask  you  but  to  extend  to  one  whose  fault  was  com- 
mitted under  strong  temptation  that  mercy  which  even  you 
yourself,  Lord  King,  must  one  day  supplicate  at  a  higher 
tribunal,  and  for  faults,  perhaps,  less  venial.^' 

"Can  this  be  Edith  Plantagenet  ?"said  the  King,  bitterly 
— "  Edith  Plantagenet,  the  wise  and  the  noble  ?  Or  is  it 
some  lovesick  woman,  who  cares  not  for  her  own  fame  in 
comparison  of  the  life  of  her  paramour  ?  Now,  by  King 
Henry's  soul  !  little  hinders  but  I  order  thy  minion's  skull 
to  be  brought  from  the  gibbet,  and  fixed  as  a  perpetual  orna- 
ment by  the  crucifix  in  thy  cell." 

"  And  if  thou  dost  send  it  from  the  gibbet  to  be  placed 
forever  in  my  sight,"  said  Edith,  "  I  will  say  it  is  a  ^elic  of 
a  good  knight,  cruelly  and  unworthily  done  to  death  by — 
(she  checked  herself) — by  one  of  whom  I  shall  only  say,  he 
should  have  known  better  how  to  reward  chivalry.  Minion 
call'st  thou  him  ?  "  she  continued,  with  increasing  vehemence. 
"  He  was  indeed  my  lover,  and  a  most  true  one  ;  but  never 
sought  he  grace  from  me  by  look  or  word,  contented  with 
such  humble  observance  as  men  pay  to  the  saints.  And  the 
good — the  valiant — the  faithful  must  die  for  this  ! " 

"  0,  peace — peace,  for  pity's  sake,"  whispered  the  Queen, 
*'you  do  but  offend  him  more  !  " 

"  I  care  not,"  said  Edith  :  "the  spotless  virgin  fears  not 
the  raging  lion.  Let  him  work  his  will  on  this  worthy 
knight.  Edith,  for  whom  he  dies,  will  know  how  to  weep 
his  memory  :  to  me  no  one  shall  speak  more  of  politic  al- 
liances, to  be  sanctioned  with  this  poor  hand.  I  could  not 
— I  would  not — have  been  his  bride  living — our  degrees  were 
too  distant.  But  death  unites  the  high  and  the  low  :  I  am 
henceforward  the  spouse  of  the  grave." 

The  King  was  about  to  answer  with  much  anger,  when  a 
Carmelite  monk  entered  the  apartment  hastily,  his  head  and 
person  muffled  in  the  long  mantle  and  hook  of  striped  cloth 
of  the  coarsest  texture  which  distinguished  his  order,  and, 
flinging  himself  on  his  knees  before  the  King,  conjured  him, 
by  every  holy  word  and  sign,  to  stop  the  execution. 

"  JSTow,  by  both  sword  and  scepter,"  said  Eichard,  "the 
world  are  leagued  to  drive  me  mad  !  Fools,  women,  and 
monks  cross  me  at  everry  step.  How  comes  he  to  live 
still?" 

"  Mj  gracious  liege/'  gjiid  the  monk.  "  I  entreated  of  the 


176  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

Lord  of  Gilsland  to  stay  the  execution  uutil  I  had  throwr 
myself  at  your  royal " 

''And  he  was  wilful  enough  to  grant  thy  request  ?"  said 
the  King  ;  "  but  it  is  of  a  piece  with  his  wonte'd  obstinacy 
And  what  is  it  thou  hast  to  say  ?  Speak,  in  the  fiend's 
name  !  '*      i 

"  My  loro,,  there  is  a  weighty  secret — but  it  rests  under 
the  seal  of  confession — I  dare  not  tell  or  even  whisper  it ; 
but  I  swear  to  thee  by  my  holy  order,  by  the  habit  which  I 
wear,  by  the  blessed  Elias,  our  founder,  even  him  who  was! 
translated  without  sulfering  the  ordinary  pangs  of  mortality, 
that  this  youth  hath  divulged  to  me  a  secret  which,  if  1 
might  confide  it  to  thee,  would  utterly  turn  thee  from  thy 
bloody  purpose  in  regard  to  him/' 

"  Good  father,"  said  Eichard,  "  that  I  reverence  the 
church,  let  the  arms  which  I  now  wear  for  her  sake  bear  wit- 
ness. Give  me  to  know  this  secret,  and  I  will  do  what  shall . 
seem  fitting  in  the  matter.  But  I  am  no  blind  Bayard,  to 
take  a  leap  in  the  dark  under  the  stroke  of  a  pair  of  priestly  1 
spurs." 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  holy  man,  throwing  back  his  cowl  i)^ 
and  upper  vesture,  and  discovering  under  the  latter  a  gar- 
ment of  goat-skin  and  from  beneath  the  former  a  visage  so 
wildly  wasted  by  climate,  fast,  and  penance  as  to  resemble 
rather  the  apparition  of  an  animated  skeleton  than  a  human 
face,  "for  twenty  years  have  I  macerated  this  miserable 
body  in  the  caverns  of  Engaddi,  doing  penance  for  a  great 
crime.  Think  you  I,  who  am  dead  to  the  world,  would  con- 
trive a  falsehood  to  endanger  my  own  soul,  or  that  one 
bound  by  the  most  sacred  oaths  to  the  contrary — one  such 
as  I,  who  have  but  one  longing  wish  connected  with  earth, 
to  wit,  the  rebuilding  of  our  Christian  Zion — would  betray 
the  secrets  of  the  confessional  ?  Both  are  alike  abhorrent 
to  my  very  soul." 

"  So,"  answered  the  King,  "  thou  art  that  hermit  of  whom 
men  speak  so  much  ?  Thou  art,  I  confess,  like  enough  to 
those  spirits  which  walk  in  dry  places,  but  Richard  fears  no 
hobgoblins  ;  and  thou  art  he,  too,  as  I  bethink  me,  to  whom 
the  Christian  princes  sent  this  very  criminal  to  open  a  com- 
munication with  the  Soldan.  even  while  I,  who  ought  to 
have  been  first  consulted,  lay  on  my  sici<:-bed  ?  Thou  and 
they  may  content  themselves,  I  willnot  put  my  neck  into 
the  loop  of  a  Carmelite's  girdle.  And,  for  your  envoy,  he 
shall  die,  the  rather  and  the  sooner  that  thou  dost  entreat 
for  him." 


THE  TALISMAN  177 

*'  Mow  God  be  gracious  to  thee.  Lord  King ! "  said  the 
hermit,  with  much  emotion;  ''thou  art  setting  that  mis- 
chief on  foot  which  thou  wilt  hereafter  wish  thou  hadst 
stopt,  though  it  had  cost  thee  a  limb.  Rash,  blinded  man, 
yet  forbear  \" 

"Away — away,'^  cried  the  King,  stampi-ri"- ;  "the  sun 
has  risen  on  the  dishonor  of  England,  and  i  is  not  yet 
avenged.  Ladies  and  priest,  withdraw,  if  ye  wo  aid  not  hear 
orders  which  would  displease  you ;  for,  by  St.  George,  I 
swear " 

"  Swear  not  ! "  said  the  voice  of  one  who  had  just  then 
entered  the  pavilion. 

"  Ha  !  my  learned  Hakim,"  said  the  King ;  "  come,  I 
hope,  to  tax  our  generosity." 

"  I  come  to  request  instant  speech  with  you — instant — and 
touching  matters  of  deep  interest." 

"  First  look  on  my  wife.  Hakim,  and  let  her  know  in  you 
the  preserver  of  her  husband." 

"  It  is  not  for  me,"  said  the  physician,  folding  his  arms 
with  an  air  of  Oriental  modesty  and  reverence,  and  bending 
his  eyes  on  the  ground — "  It  is  not  for  me  to  look  upon 
beauty  unveiled,  and  armed  in  its  splendors." 

'Retire,  then,  Berengaria,"  said  the  monarch;  "and, 
Edith,  do  you  retire  also.  Nay,  renew  not  your  importuni- 
ties !  This  I  give  to  them,  that  the  execution  shall  not  be 
till  high  noon.  Go  and  be  pacified.  Dearest  Berengaria,  be- 
gone. Edith,"  he  added,  with  a  glance  which  struck  terror 
even  into  the  courageous  soul  of  his  kinswoman,  "  go,  if  you 
are  wise." 

The  females  withdrew,  or  rather  hurried  from  the  tent, 
rank  and  ceremony  forgotten,  much  like  a  flock  of  wild-fowl 
huddled  togethei,  against  whom  the  falcon  has  made  a 
recent  stoop. 

They  returned  from  thence  to  the  Queen's  pavilion,  to 
indulge  in  regrets,  and  recriminations,  equally  unavailing. 
Edith  was  the  only  one  who  seemed  to  disdain  these  ordinary 
channels  of  sorrow.  Without  a  sigh,  without  a  tear,  with- 
out a  word  of  upbraiding,  she  attended  upon  the  Queen, 
whose  weak  temperament  showed  her  sorrow  in  violent 
hysterical  ecstasies,  and  passionate  hypochondriacal  effusions, 
in  the  course  of  which  Edith  sedulously,  and  even  affection- 
ately, attended  her. 

"It  is  impossible  she  can  have  loved  this  knight,"  said 
Plorise  to  Calista,  her  senior  in  attendance  upon  the  Queen's 
person.     "  We  have  been  mistaken  ;  she  is  but  sorry  for  his 
12 


178  WA  VEELEY  NO VEL S 

fate,  as  for  a   stranger  who   lias   come   to  trouble  on  her 
account." 

*'  Hush — hush/'  answered  her  more  experienced  and  more 
observant  comrade;  "she  is  of  that  proud  house  of  Plan- 
tagenet,  who  never  own  that  a  hurt  grieves  them.  While 
they  have  themselves  been  bleeding  to  death  under  a  mortal 
wound,  they  have  been  known  to  bind  up  tlie  scratches  sus- 
tained by  their  more  faint-hearted  comrades.  Florise,  we 
have  done  frightfully  wrong  ;  and,  for  my  own  part,  I  would 
buy  with  every  jewel  I  have,  that  our  fatal  jest  had  remained 
unacted." 


CHAPTEE  XVIII 

This  work  desires  a  planetary  intelligence 
Of  Jupiter  and  Sol ;  and  those  great  spirits 
Are  proud,  fantastical.     It  asks  great  charges 
To  entice  them  from  the  guiding  of  their  spheres. 
To  wait  on  mortals. 

Albumazar. 

'  The  hermit  followed  the  ladies  from  the  pavilion  of  Richard, 
:i  as  shadow  follows  a  beam  of  sunshine  when  the  clouds  s^re 
driving  over  the  face  of  the  sun.  But  he  turned  on  the 
threshold,  and  held  up  his  hand  towards  the  King  in  a  warn- 
ing, or  almost  a  menacing  posture,  as  he  said — "  Woe  to 
him  who  rejects  the  counsel  of  the  church,  and  betaketh 
himself  to  the  foul  divan  of  the  infidel  !  King  Eichard,  I 
do  not  yet  shake  the  dust  from  my  feet  and  depart  from  thy 
encampment  :  the  sword  falls  not,  but  it  hangs  but  by  a 
hair.     Haughty  monarch,  we  shall  meet  again." 

''Be  it  so,  haughty  priest,"  returned  Richard — "prouder 
in  thy  goat-skins  than  princes  in  purple  and  fine  linen." 

The  hermit  vanished  from  the  tent,  and  the  King  con- 
tinued, addressing  the  Arabian,  ''Do  the  dervises  of  the 
East,  wise  Hakim,  use  such  familiarity  with  their  princes  ?" 

"The  dervise,"  replied  Adonbee,  "should  be  either  a 
sage  or  a  madman  :  there  is  no  middle  course  for  him  who 
wears  the  MirMah*  who  watches  by  night  and  fasts  by 
day.  Hence  hath  he  either  wisdom  enough  to  bear  himself 
discreetly  in  the  presence  of  princes,  or  else,  having  no  rea- 
son bestowed  on  him,  he  is  not  responsible  for  his  own 
actions," 

"  Methinks  our  monks  have  adopted  chiefly  the  latter 
character,"  said  Richard.  "  But  to  the  matter.  In  what 
can  I  pleasure  you,  my  learned  physician  ?" 

"  Great  King,"  said  El  Hakim,  making  his  profound 
Oriental  obeisance,  "  let  thy  servant  speak  one  word,  and 
yet  live.  I  would  remind  thee  that  thou  owest — not  to  me, 
their  humble  instrument — but  to  the  Intelligences,  whose 
benefits  I  dispense  to  mortals,  a  life " 

•  Literally,  the  torn  robe.    The  habit  of  the  dervises  is  so  called. 
179 


180  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

''And  I  warrant  me  thou  wouldst  have  another  in  re- 
quital, ha  ?  "  interrupted  the  King. 

"  Such  is  my  humble  prayer,"  said  the  Hakim,  "  to  the 
great  Melech  Rio,  even  the  life  of  this  good  knight,  who  is 
doomed  to  die,  and  but  for  such  fault  as  was  committed  bv 
the  Sultan  Adam,  surnamed  Aboulbeschar,  or  the  father  ol 
all  men." 

''  And  thy  wisdom  might  remind  thee.  Hakim,  that  Adan 
died  for  it,"  said  the  King,  somewhat  sternly,  and  thci; 
began  to  pace  the  narrow  space  of  his  tent,  vrith  some  emo- 
tion, and  to  talk  to  himself.  "  Why,  God-a-mercy,  I  knew 
what  he  desired  as  soon  as  ever  he  entered  the  pavilion  I 
Here  is  one  poor  life  justly  condemned  to  extinction,  and  I, 
a  king  and  a  soldier,  who  have  slain  thousands  by  my  com- 
mand, and  scores  with  my  own  hand,  am  to  have  no  power 
over  it,  although  the  honor  of  my  arms,  of  my  house,  of  my 
very  Queen,  hath  been  attainted  by  the  culprit.  By  St. 
George,  it  makes  me  laugh  !  By  St.  Louis,  it  reminds  me 
of  Blondel's  tale  of  an  enchanted  castle,  where  the  destined 
knight  was  withstood  successively  in  his  purpose  of  enti'ance 
by  forms  and  figures  the  most  dissimilar,  but  all  hostile  to 
his  undertaking.  No  sooner  one  sunk  than  another  ap- 
peared. Wife — kinswoman — hermit — Hakim — each  appears 
in  the  lists  as  soon  as  the  other  is  defeated.  Why,  this  is  a 
single  knight  fighting  against  the  whole  melee  of  the  tourna^ 
ment— ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! "  And  Eichard  laughed  aloud  ;  for 
hehad,  in  fact,  begun  to  change  his  mood,  his  resentment 
being  usually   too  violent  to  be  of  long  endurance. 

The  physician  meanwhile  looked  on  him  with  a  coun- 
tenance of  surprise,  not  unmingled  with  contempt  ;  for  the 
Eastern  peoi^le  make  no  allowance  for  those  mercurial 
changes  in  the  temper,  and  consider  open  laughter,  upon 
almost  any  account,  as  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  man, 
and  becoming  only  to  women  and  children.  At  length,  the 
sage  addressed  the  King,  when  he  saw  him  more  composed. 

"A  doom  of  death  should  not  iscue  from  laughing  lips. 
Let  thy  servant  hope  that  thou  hast  granted  him  this  man's 
life." 

''Take  the  freedom  of  a  thousand  captives  instead,"  said 
Richard  :  ''restore  so  many  of  thy  countrymen  to  their  tents 
and  families,  and  I  will  give  the  warrant  instantly.  This 
man's  life  can  avail  thee  nothing,  and  it  is  forfeited." 

"All  our  lives  are  forfeited,"  said  the  Hakim,  putting 
hi-s  hand  to  his  cajj.  "]3ut  the  great  Creditor  is  merciful, 
and  exacts  not  the  pledge  rigorously  nor  untimely/' 


THE  TAL ISMAIL  181 

"  Thou  canst  show  me,"  said  Richard,  "  no  special  interest 
thou  hast  to  hecomei7itercessor  betwixt  me  and  the  execution 
of  justice,  to  which  I  am  sworn  as  a  crowned  king." 

"  Thou  art  sworn  to  the  dealing  forth  mercy  as  well  as 
justice/'  said  El  Hakim  ;  "  but  what  thou  seekest,  great 
King,  is  the  execution  of  thine  own  will.  And,  for  the  con- 
cern I  have  in  this  request,  know  that  many  a  man's  life 
depends  upon  thy  granting  this  boon." 

"  Explain  thy  words,"  said  Richard  ;  "  but  think  not  to 
impose  upon  me  by  false  pretexts.'" 

"  Be  it  far  from  thy  servant  !"  said  Adonbec,  "  Know, 
then,  that  the  medicine  to  which  thou,  sir  king,  and  many 
one  beside  owe  their  recovery  is  a  talisman,  composed  under 
certain  aspects  of  the  heavens,  when  the  Divine  Intelligences 
are  most  propitious.  I  am  but  the  poor  administrator  of  its 
virtues.  I  dip  it  in  a  cup  of  water,  observe  the  fitting  hour 
to  administer  it  to  the  patient,  and  the  potency  of  the  draught 
works  the  cure." 

"A  most  rare  medicine,"  said  the  King,  *'and  a  commo- 
'dious  !  and,  as  it  may  be  carried  in  the  leech's  purse,  would 
isave  the  whole  caravan  of  camels  which  they  require  to  convey 
[drugs  and  physic-stuff.  I  marvel  there  is  any  other  in  use." 
,  ''  It  is  written,"  answered  the  Hakim,  with  imperturbable 
'gravity,  "  'Abuse  not  the  steed  which  hath  borne  thee  from 
ithe  battle.'  Know,  that  such  talismans  might  indeed  be 
framed,  but  rare  has  been  the  number  of  adepts  who  have 
dared  to  undertake  the  application  of  their  virtue.  Severe 
restrictions,  painful  observances,  fasts,  and  penance  are 
necessary  on  the  part  of  the  sage  who  uses  this  mode  of  cure  : 
land  if,  through  neglect  of  these  preparations,  by  his  love  of 
ease,  or  his  indulgence  of  sensual  appetite,  he  omits  to  cure 
at  least  twelve  persons  within  the  course  of  each  moon,  the 
virtue  of  the  divine  gift  departs  from  the  amulet,  and  both 
the  last  patient  and  the  physician  will  be  exposed  to  speedy 
misfortune,  neither  will  they  survive  the  year.  I  require 
yet  one  life  to  make  up  the  appointed  number." 
I  "  Go  out  into  the  camp,  good  tiakim,  where  thou  wilt  find 
ii  many,"  said  the  King,  "and  do  not  seek  to  rob  my  heads- 
man of  Ms  patients  ;  it  is  unbecoming  a  mediciner  of  thine 
3minence  to  interfere  with  the  practise  of  another.  Besides, 
[  cannot  see  how  delivering  a  criminal  from  the  death  he  de- 
lei'ves  should  go  to  make  up  thy  tale  of  miraculous  cures." 
,  "  When  thou  canst  show  why  a  draught  of  cold  water 
ihould  have  cured  thee,  when  the  most  precious  drugs  failed,'' 
■aid  the  Hakim,  "  thou  mayst  reason  on  the  other  mysteries 


182  WA  VEBLEY  NO  VELS 

attendant  on  this  matter.  For  myself,  I  am  inefficient  to 
the  great  work,  having  this  morning  touched  an  unclean 
animal.  Ask,  therefore,  no  farther  questions  ;  it  is  enough 
that,  by  sparing  this  man's  life  at  my  request,  you  will  de- 
liver yourself,  great  King,  and  thy  servant  from  a  great 
danger." 

"  Hark  thee,  Adonbec,"  replied  the  King,  "  I  have  no  ob- 
jection that  leeches  should  wrap  their  words  in  mist,  and  pre- 
tend to  derive  knowledge  from  the  stars  ;  but  when  you  bid 
Eichard  Plantagenet  fear  that  a  danger  will  fall  upon  him 
from  some  idle  omen  or  omitted  ceremonial,  you  speak  to  no 
ignorant  Saxon,  or  doting  old  woman,  who  foregoes  her  pur- 
pose because  a  hare  crosses  her  path,  a  raven  croaks,  or  a  cat 
sneezes." 

"  I  cannot  hinder  your  doubt  of  my  words,"  said  Adonbec  ; 
"but  yet,  let  my  Lord  the  King  grant  that  truth  is  on  the 
tongue  of  his  servant,  will  he  think  it  just  to  deprive  the 
world,  and  every  wretch  who  may  suffer  by  the  pains  which 
so  lately  reduced  him  to  that  couch,  of  the  benefit  of  this 
most  virtuous  talisman,  rather  than  extend  his  forgiveness 
to  one  poor  criminal  ?  Bethink  you,  Lord  King,  that,  though 
thou  canst  slay  thousands,  thou  canst  not  restore  one  man  to 
health.  Kings  have  the  power  of  Satan  to  torment,  sages 
that  of  Allah  to  heal  ;  beware  how  thou  hinderest  the  good 
to  humanity  which  thou  canst  not  thyself  render.  Thou 
canst  cut  off  the  head,  but  not  cure  the  aching  tooth." 

"  This  is  over-insolent,"  said  the  King,  hardening  himself, 
as  the  Hakim  assumed  a  more  lofty,  and  almost  a  command- 
ing tone.  "  We  took  thee  for  our  leech,  not  for  our  coun- 
selor or  conscience-keeper." 

"And  is  it  thus  the  most  renowned  prince  of  Frangistan 
repays  benefit  done  to  his  royal  person  ?  "  said  El  Hakim, 
exchanging  the  humble  and  stooping  posture  in  which  he 
had  hitherto  solicited  the  King  for  an  attitude  lofty  and 
commanding.  "  Know,  then,"  he  said,  "  that  through  every 
court  of  Europe  and  Asia — to  Moslem  and  Nazarene — to 
knight  and  lady — wherever  harp  is  heard  and  sword  worn— 
wherever  honor  is  loved  and  infamy  detested — to  every  quar- 
ter of  the  world  will  I  denounce  thee,  Melech  Ric,  as  thank- 
less and  ungenerous  ;  and  even  the  lands — if  there  be  any  I 
such — that  never  heard  of  thy  renown  shall  yet  be  acquainted 
with  thy  shame  ! " 

"  Are  these  terms  to  me,  vile  infidel  ? "  said  Richard, 
striding  up  to  him  in  fury.      "  Art  weary  of  thy  life  ?  " 

"Strike  V  said  El  Hakim  ;  "  thine  own  deed  shall  then 


THE  TALISMAN  183 

paint  thee  more  worthless  than  could  my  words,  though  each 
had  an  hornet's  sting/' 

Richard  turned  fiercely  from  him,  folded. his  arms,  trav- 
ersed the  tent  as  before,  and  then  exclaimed,  "  Thankless 
and  ungenerous  !  as  well  be  termed  coward  and  infidel. 
Hakim,  thou  hast  chosen  thy  boon  ;  and  though  I  had  rather 
thou  hadst  asked  my  crown-jewels,  yet  I  may  not,  kinglike, 
rffuse  thee.  Take  this  Scot,  therefore,  to  thy  keeping  ;  the 
pi'ovost  will  deliver  him  to  thee  on  this  warrant." 

He  hastily  traced  one  or  two  lines,  and  gave  them  to  the 
physician.  "  Use  him  as  thy  bond-slave,  to  be  disposed  of 
as  thou  wilt ;  only  let  him  beware  how  he  comes  before  tlie 
eves  of  Richard.  Hark  thee — thou  art  wise — he  hath  been 
overbold  among  those  in  whose  fair  looks  and  weak  judg- 
ments we  trust  our  honor,  as  you  of  the  East  lodge  your 
treasures  in  caskets  of  silver  wire,  as  fine  and  as  frail  as  the 
web  of  a  gossamer." 

"Thy  servant  understands  the  words  of  the  King,"  said 
tlie  sage,  at  once  resuming  the  reverent  style  of  address  in 
wliich  he  had  commenced.  "  When  the  rich  carpet  is  soiled, 
the  fool  pointeth  to  the  stain,  the  wise  man  covers  it  with 
liis  mantle.  I  have  heard  my  lord's  pleasure,  and  to  hear  is 
to  obey." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  King  ;  "let  him  consult  his  own 
safety,  and  never  appear  in  my  presence  more.  Is  there 
aught  else  in  which  I  may  do  thee  pleasure  ?" 

*•  The  bounty  of  the  King  hath  filled  my  cup  to  the  brim," 
said  the  sage  ;  "yea,  it  hath  been  abundant  as  the  fountain 
\\liich  sprung  up  amid  the  camp  of  the  descendants  of 
Israel,  when  the  rock  was  stricken  by  the  rod  of  Moussa  ben 
Ainran." 

"  Ay,  but,"  said  the  King,  smiling,  "  it  required,  as  in  the 
desert,  a  hard  blow  on  the  rock,  ere  it  yielded  its  treasures. 
I  would  that  I  knew  something  to  pleasure  thee,  which  I 
might  yield  as  freely  as  the  natural  fountain  sends  forth  its 
waters." 

"•  Let  me  touch  that  victorious  hand,"  said  the  sage,  "  in 
token  that,  if  Adonbec  el  Hakim  should  hereafter  demand  a 
boon  of  Richard  of  England,  he  may  do  so,  yet  plead  his 
command." 

"  Thou  hast  hand  and  glove  upon  it,  man."  replied 
Richard  ;  "  only,  if  thou  couldst  consistently  make  up  thy 
tale  of  patients  without  craving  me  to  deliver  from  punish- 
ment those  who  have  deserved  it,  I  would  more  willingly 
discharge  my  debt  in  some  other  form." 


'^' 


184  WA  VERLEY  N  O  VEL  S 

"  May  thy  days  be  multiplied  ! "  answered  the  Hakim,  and 
withdrew  from  the  apartment  after  the  usual  deep  obeisance. 

King  Eichard  gazed  after  him  as  he  departed,  like  one  but; 
half-satisfied  with  what  had  passed. 

"  Strange  pertinacity,"  he  said,  "  in  this  Hakim,  and  a 
wonderful  chance  to  interfere  between  that  audacious  Scot 
and  the  chastisement  he  has  merited  so  richly.  Yet,  let 
him  live  !  there  is  one  brave  man  the  more  in  the  world. 
And  now  for  the  Austrian.  Ho,  is  the  Baron  of  Gilsland 
there  without?'* 

Sir  Thomas  de  Vaux  thue  summoned,  his  bulky  form 
speedily  darkened  the  opening  of  the  pavilion,  while  behind 
him  glided  as  a  specter,  unannounced  yet  unopposed,  the 
savage  form  of  the  hermit  of  Engaddi,  wrapped  in  his  goat- 
skin mantle. 

Richard,  without  noticing  his  presence,  called  in  a  loud 
tone  to  the  baron,  "  Sir  Thomas  de  Vaux  of  Lanercost  and 
Gilsland,  take  trumpet  and  herald,  and  go  instantly  to  the 
tent  of  him  whom  they  call  Archduke  of  Austria,  and  see 
that  it  be  when  the  press  of  his  knights  and  vassals  is  greatest 
around  him,  as  is  likely  at  this  hour,  for  the  German  boar 
breakfasts  ere  he  hears  mass  ;  enter  his  presence  with  as  little 
reverence  as  thou  mayst,  and  impeach  him,  on  the  part  of 
Eichard  of  England,  that  he  hath   this  night,  by  his  own 
hand  or  that  of  others,  stolen  from  its  staff  the  banner  of 
England.    Wherefore,  say  to  him  our  pleasure  that,  within  an 
hour  from  the  time  of  my  speaking,  he  restore  the  said  ban- 
ner with  all  reverence,  he  himself  and  his  principal  barons 
waiting  the  whilst  with  heads  uncovered,  and  without  their 
robes  of  honor.     And  that,  moreover,  he  pitch  beside  it,  on 
the  one  hand,  his  own  banner  of  Austria  reversed,  as  that 
which  hath  been  dishonored  by  theft  and  felony  ;  and  on  the  jf*^ 
other  a  lance,  bearing  the   bloody  head   of  him  who  was  his  '-.'■ 
nearest  counselor  or  assistant  in  this  base  injury.     And  say,  ;i; 
that  such  our  behests  being  punctually  discharged,  we  will,  ;  ;{ 
for  the  sake  of  onr  vow  and  the  weal  of  the  Holy  Land,  for-  '  ' 
give  his  other  forfeits. '* 

"And  how  if  the  Duke  of  Austria  deny  all  accession  to 
this  act  of  wrong  and  of  felony  ?"  said  Thomas  de  Vaux. 

"Tell  him,"  replied  the  King,  "we  will  prove  it  upon 
his  body — ay,  were  he  backed  with  his  two  bravest  cham- 
pions.    Knight-like  will  we  prove  it,  on  foot  or  on  horse,  in  V* 
the  desert  or  in  the  field — time,  place,  and  arms  all  at  his  own  , 
choice." 

**  Bethink  you  of  the  peace  of  God  and  the  church,  m^ 


THE  TALISMAN  185 

tiege  lord/'  said  the  Baron  of  Gilslaiid,  *■■  among  those  princes 
engaged  in  this  holy  Crusade." 

"  Bethink  you  how  to  execute  my  commands,  my  liege 
vassal,"  answered  Eichard,  impatiently.  "  Methinks  men 
expect  to  turn  our  purpose  by  their  breath,  as  boys  blow 
feathers  to  and  fro.  Peace  to  the  church  !  who,  I  prithee, 
minds  it  ?  The  peace  of  the  church,  among  Crusaders,  im- 
plies, war  with  the  Saracens  with  whom  the  princes  have 
made  truce,  and  the  one  ends  with  the  other.  And,  besides, 
see  you  not  how  every  prince  of  them  is  seeking  his  own 
several  ends  ?  I  will  seek  mine  also,  and  that  is  honor, 
.For  honor  I  came  hither,  and  if  I  may  not  win  it  upon  the 
Saracens,  at  least  I  will  not  lose  a  jot  from  any  respect  to 
this  paltry  duke,  though  he  were  bulwarked  and  buttressed 
by  every  prince  in  the  Crusade." 

De  Vaux  turned  to  obey  the  King's  mandate,  shrugging 
his  shoulders  at  the  same  time,  the  bluntness  of  his  nature 
being  unable  to  conceal  that  its  tenor  went  against  his  judg- 
ment. But  the  hermit  of  Engaddi  stepped  forward,  and 
assumed  the  air  of  one  charged  with  higher  commands  than 
those  of  a  mere  earthly  potentate.  Indeed,  his  dress  of 
shaggy  skins,  his  uncombed  and  untrimmed  hair  and  beard, 
his  lean,  wild,  and  contorted  features,  and  the  almost  insane 
fire  which  gleamed  from  under  his  bushy  eyebrows,  made 
him  approach  nearly  to  our  idea  of  some  seer  of  Scripture, 
who,  charged  with  high  mission  to  the  sinful  kings  of  Judali 
or  Israel,  descended  from  the  rocks  and  caverns  in  which  he 
!  dwelt  in  abstracted  solitude,  to  abash  earthly  tyrants  in  the 
midst  of  their  pride,  by  discliarging  on  them  the  blighting 
denunciations  of  Divine  Majesty,  even  as  the  cloud  dis- 
, charges  the  lightnings  with  which  it  is  fraught  on  the 
;  pinnacles  and  towers  of  castles  and  palaces. 
I  In  the  midst  of  his  most  wayward  mood,  Eichard  respected 
I  the  church  and  its  ministers,  and  though  offended  at  the 
intrusion  of  the  hermit  into  his  tent,  he  greeted  him 
with  respect ;  at  the  same  time,  however,  making  a  sign  to 
Sir  Thomas  de  Vaux  to  hasten  on  his  message. 

But  the  hermit  prohibited  the  baron,  by  gesture,  look,  and 
word,  to  stir  a  yard  on  such  an  errand  ;  and,  holding  up  his 
bare  arm,  from  which  the  goat-skin  mantle  fell  back  in  the 
violence  of  his  action,  he  waved  it  aloft,  meager  with  famine, 
and  wealed  with  the  blows  of  the  discipline. 

"In  the  name  of  God,  and  of  the  most  holy  Father,  the  vice- 
gerent of  the  Christian  Church  upon  earth,  I  prohibit  thig 
most  profane,  bloodthirsty,  and  brutal  defiance  betwixt  two 


186  WAV ERLEY  NOVELS 

Christiau  princes,  vvliose  shoulders  are  signed  with  the 
blessed  mark  under  which  they  swore  brotherhood.  Woe  to 
him  by  whom  it  is  broken  !  Richard  of  England,  recall  tlve 
most  unhallowed  message  thou  hast  given  to  that  baron. 
Danger  and  death  are  nigh  thee — the  dagger  is  glancing  at 
tliy  very  throat ! " 

"  Danger  and  death  are  playmates  to  Richard,"  answered 
the  monarch,  proudly  ;  "  and  he  hath  braved  too  many  swords 
to  fear  a  dagger." 

"  Danger  and  death  are  near/"  replied  the  seer  :  and, 
sinking  his  voice  to  a  hollow,  unearthly  tone,  he  added, 
"  And  after  death  the  judgment ! " 

*'  Good  and  holy  father,"  said  Richard,  "  I  reverence  thy 
person  and  thy  sanctity " 

"  Reverence  not  me,"  interrupted  the  hermit ;  "  reverence 
sooner  the  vilest  insect  that  crawls  by  the  shores  of  the  Dead 
Sea,  and  feeds  upon  its  accursed  slime.  But  reverence  Him 
wdiose  commands  I  speak.  Reverence  Him  whose  sepulchre 
you  have  vowed  to  rescue.  Revere  the  oath  of  concord 
wdiicli  you  have  sworn,  and  break  not  the  silver  cord  of 
union  and  fidelity  with  wdiich  you  have  bound  yourself  to 
your  princely  confederates." 

''Good  father," said  the  King,  "'you  of  the  church  seem 
to  me  to  presume  somewhat,  if  a  layman  may  say  so  much, 
upon  the  dignity  of  your  holy  character.  Without  challeng- 
ing your  right  to  take  charge  of  our  conscience,  methinks 
you  might  leave  us  the  charge  of  our  own  honor." 

''Presume  !"  repeated  the  hermit;  "  is  it  for  me  to  pre- 
sume, royal  Richard,  who  am  but  the  bell  obeying  the  hand 
of  the  sexton — but  the  senseless  and  worthless  trumpet, 
carrying  the  command  of  him  who  sounds  it  ?  See,  on  my 
knees  I  throw  myself  before  thee,  imploring  thee  to  have 
mercy  on  Christendom,  on  England,  and  en  thyself  !" 

"  Rise — rise,"  said  Richard,  compelling  him  to  stand  up  : 
"  it  beseems  not  that  knees  which  are  so  frequently  bended 
to  the  Deity  should  press  the  ground  in  honor  of  man. 
What  dauge'r  awaits  us,  reverend  father  ?  and  when  stood  the 
power  of  England  so  low,  that  the  noisy  bluster  of  this  new- 
made  duke's  displeasure  should  alarm  her  or  her  monarch  ?" 

"  I  have  looked  forth  from  my  mountain  turret  upon  the 
starry  host  of  heaven,  as  each  in  his  midnight  circuit  uttered 
wisdom  to  another,  and  knowledge  to  the  few  who  can  un- 
derstand their  voice.  There  sits  an  enemy  in  thy  house  of 
life.  Lord  King,  malign  at  once  to  thy  fame  and  thy  pros- 
perity— an  emanation  of  Saturn,  menacing  thee  with  instant 


THE  TALISMAN  187 

id  bloody  peril,  and  which,  but  thou  yield  thy  proud  will 
)  the  rule  of  tliy  duty,  will  presently  crush  thee,  even  in 
ly  pride.'' 

"  Away — away,   this  is  heathen  science,"  said  the  King. 

Christians  practise  it  not ;  wise  men  believe  it  not.  Old 
lan,  thou  dotest." 

"  I  dote  not,  Richard,''  answered  the  hermit ;  "  I  am  not 
)  happy.  I  know  my  condition,  and  that  some  portion  of 
iason  is  yet  permitted  me,  not  for  my  own  use,  but  that  of 
le  church  and  the  advancement  of  the  Cross.  I  am  the 
[ind  man  who  holds  a  torcli  to  others,  though  it  yields  no 
^ht  to  himself.  Ask  me  touching  what  concerns  the  weal 
'  Christendom  and  of  this  Crusade,  and  1  will  speak  with 
lee  as  the  wisest  counselor  on  whose  tongue  persuasion 
^er  sat.  Speak  to  me  of  my  own  wretched  being,  and  my 
brds  shall  be  those  of  the  maniac  outcast  which  I  am." 

"  1  would  not  break  the  bands  of  unity  asunder  among 
le  princes  of  the  Crusade,"  said  Richard,  witli  a  mitigated 
lue  and  manner  ;  "  but  what  atonement  can  they  render 
le  for  the  injustice  and  insult  which  I  have  sustained  ?" 
I  "Even  of  that  I  am  prepared  and  commissioned  to  speak 

I-  the  council,  which,  meeting  hastily  at  the  summons  of 
lilip  of  France,  have  taken  measures  for  that  effect." 
/'Strange,"  replied  Richard,   ''that  others  should  treat 
t  what  is  due  to  the  wounded  Majesty  of  England  ! " 

"  They  are  willing  to  anticipate  your  demands,  if  it  be 
jssiljle,"  answered  the  hermit.  "In  a  body,  they  consent 
tat  the  banner  of  England  be  replaced  on  St.  George's 
bunt,  and  they  lay  under  ban  and  condemnation  the  aada- 
ous  criminal,  or  criminals,  by  whom  it  was  outraged,  and 
vU  announce  a  princely  reward  to  any  who  shall  denounce 
t3  delinquent's  guilt,  and  give  his  flesh  to  the  wolves  and 
r^ens." 

"  And  Anstria,"  said  Richard,  "  upon  whom  rest  such 
Siong  presumptions  that  he  was  the  author  of  the  deed  ?" 

■■'To  prevent  discord  in  the  host,"  replied  the  hermit, 
'Austria  will  clear  himself  of  the  suspicion,  by  submitting 
tiwhatsoever  ordeal  the  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem  shall  im- 
p,ie." 

'  Will  he  clear  himself  by  the  trial  by  combat  ? "  said 
Bag  Richard. 

'His  oath  prohibits  it,"  said  the  hermit;  "and,  more- 
0  !r,  the  council  of  the  princes " 

'  Will  neither  authorize  battle  against  the  Saracens,"  in- 
tfrupted  Richard,  "  nor  against  any  one  else.     But  it  is 


188  WAVERLEY  NOVELS  i 

enough,  father;  thou  hast  shown  me  the  folly  of  proceed]  tfl 
ing  as  I  designed  in  this  matter.  You  shall  sooner  lighi 
your  torch  in  a  puddle  of  rain  than  bring  a  spark  out  of 
cold-blooded  coward.  There  is  no  honor  to  be  gained  o 
Austria,  and  so  let  him  pass.  I  will  have  him  perjure  himi 
self,  however  :  I  will  insist  on  tlie  ordeal.  How  I  sha'i 
laugh  to  hear  his  clumsy  fingers  hiss,  as  he  grasps  tlie  red! 
hot  globe  of  iron  !  Ay,  or  his  huge  mouth  riven,  and  hii 
gullet  swelling  to  suffocation,  as  he  endeavors  to  swallow  th 
consecrated  bread  ! " 

"  Peace,  Eichard,"  said  the  hermit — "  oh,  peace,  fo 
shame  if  not  for  charity !  Who  sliall  praise  or  hone 
princes  who  insult  and  calumniate  each  other  ?  Alas  !  tha 
a  creature  so  noble  as  thou  art,  so  accomplished  in  prince! 
thoughts  and  princely  daring,  so  fitted  to  honor  Christen 
dom  by  thy  actions,  and,  in  thy  calmer  mood,  to  rule  her  bi 
thy  wisdom,  should  yet  have  the  brute  and  wild  fury  of  thj 
lion  mingled  with  the  dignity  and  courage  of  that  king  oi 
the  forest  \"  _  ! 

He  remained  an  instant  musing  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  th 
ground,  and  then  proceeded — "  But  Heaven,  that  know 
our  imperfect  nature,  accepts  of  our  imperfect  obedience 
and  hath  delayed,  though  not  averted,  the  bloody  end  of  thj 
daring  life.  The  destroying  angel  hath  stood  still,  as  of  ol( 
by  the  threshing-floor  of  Araunah  the  Jebusite,  and  th 
blade  is  drawn  in  his  hand,  by  which,  at  no  distant  datej 
Richard  the  lion-hearted  shall  be  as  low  as  the  meanesi 
peasant. "" 

"Must  it  then  be  so  soon  ?"  said  Richard.  "  Yet,  evel 
so  be  it.     May  my  course  be  bright,  if  it  be  but  brief  !  " 

"  Alas  !  noble  King,"  said  the  solitary,  and  it_  seemed  aijlli 
if  a  tear  (unwonted  guest)  were  gathering  in  his  dry  antti 
glazened  eye,  "short  and  melancholy,  marked  with  mortij;!iii 
fication,  and  calamity,  and  captivity,  is  the  span  that  dividei|  i 
thee  from  the  grave  which  yawns  for  thee — a  grave  in  whicHi" 
thou  shalt  be  laid  without  lineage  to  succeed  thee,  withoujit 
the  tears  of  a  people,  exhausted  by  thy  ceaseless  wars,  t()  ;ta 
lament  thee,  without  having  extended  the  knowledge  of  thj  i 
subjects,  without  having  done  aught  to  enlarge  their  happi-  il 
ness."  i  ill 

"  But  not  without  renown,  monk — not  without  the  tearhj 
of  the  lady  of  my  love.  These  consolations,  which  thoij'jl 
canst  neither  know  nor  estimate,  await  upon  Richard  to  hi;j  !ti 
grave."  .  \i 

**  Do  I  not  know — can  I  not  estimate,  the  value  of  min|i{ 


THE  TALISMAN  189 

itrel's  praise  and  of  lady's  love  ?  "  retorted  the  hermit,  in  a 
;one  which  for  a  moment  seemed  to  emulate  the  enthusiasm 
)f  Richard  himself.  "  King  of  England,"  he  continued, 
sxtending  his  emaciated  arm,  "  the  blood  which  boils  in  thy 
)lue  veins  is  not  more  noble  than  that  which  stagnates  in 
nine.  Few  and  cold  as  the  drops  are,  they  still  are  of  the 
)lood  of  the  royal  Lusignan — of  the  horoic  and  sainted  God- 
rey.     I  am — that  is,   I  was  when   in  the  world — Alberick 

ilortemar " 

"  Whose  deeds,"  said  Richard,  "  have  so  often  filled  Fame's 
rumpet  !  Is  it  so — can  it  be  so  ?  Could  such  a  light  as 
hine  fall  from  the  horizon  of  chivalry,  and  yet  men  be  un- 
ertain  where  its  embers  had  alighted  ?  " 
I  ''  Seek  a  fallen  star,"  said  the  hermit,  "  and  thou  shalt 
inly  light  on  some  foul  jelly,  which,  in  shooting  through 
he  horizon,  has  assumed  for  a  moment  an  appearance  of 
plendor.  Richard,  if  I  thought  that  rending  the  bloody 
eil  from  my  horrible  fate  could  make  thy  proud  heart  stoop 
0  the  discipline  of  the  church,  I  could  find  in  my  heart  to 
isll  thee  a  tale  which  I  have  hitherto  kept  gnawing  at  my 
itals  in  concealment,  like  the  self-devoted  youth  of  Hea- 
lienesse.  Listen,  then,  Richard,  and  may  the  grief  and  de- 
oair  which  cannot  avail  this  wretched  remnant  of  what  was 
Qce  a  man  be  powerful  as  an  example  to  so  noble,  yet  so 
ild,  a  beiug  as  thou  art !  Yes,  I  will — I  will  tear  open  the 
mg-hidden  wounds,  although  in  thy  very  presence  they 
lould  bleed  to  death  !" 
King  Richard,  upon  whom  the  history  of  Alberick  of  Mor- 
imar  had  made  a  deep  impression  in  his  early  years,  when 
linstrels  were  regaling  his  father's  halls  with  legends  of  the 
[oly  Land,  listened  with  respect  to  the  outlines  of  a  tale 
hich,  darkly  and  imperfectly  sketched,  indicated  suffi- 
ently  the  cause  of  the  partial  insanity  of  this  singular  and 
lost  unhappy  being. 

i  "  I  need  not,"  he  said,  ''  tell  thee  that  I  was  noble  in  birth, 
jigh  in  fortune,  strong  in  arms,  wise  in  counsel.  All  these 
was  ;  but  while  the  noblest  ladies  in  Palestine  strove  which 
lould  wind  garlands  for  my  helmet,  my  love  was  fixed — 
nalterably  and  devotedly  fixed — on  a  maiden  of  low  degree, 
'.er  father,  an  ancient  soldier  of  the  Cross,  saw  our  passion, 
id  knowing  the  difference  betwixt  us,  saw  no  other  refuge 
ir  his  daughter's  honor  than  to  place  her  within  the  shadow 
:  the  cloister.  I  returned  from  a  distant  expedition,  loaded 
ith  spoils  and  honor,  to  find  my  happiness  was  destroyed 
•rever.      I,  too,  sought  the  cloister,  and  Satan,  who  had 


190  WA  VER LEY  NOVELS 

marked  me  for  his  own,  breathed  into  my  heart  a  vapor  |  ipi 
spiritual  pride,  which  could  only  have  had  its  source  in  lij 
own  infernal  regions.  I  had  risen  as  high  in  the  church 
before  in  the  state  :  I  was,  forsooth,  the  wise,  the  self-suf 
cient,  the  impeccable  !  I  was  the  counselor  of  councils 
was  the  director  of  prelates — how  should  I  stumble — whei^ 
fore  should  I  fear  temptation  ?  Alas  !  I  became  confess' 
to  a  sisterhood,  and  amongst  that  sisterhood  I  found  tl| 
long-loved — the  long-lost.  Spare  me  farther  confession  ! 
fallen  nun,  whose  guilt  was  avenged  by  self-murder,  sleei 
soundly  in  the  vaults  of  Engaddi,  while,  above  her  ve;  kp 
grave,  gibbers,  moans,  and  roars  a  creature  to  whom  but 
much  reason  is  left  as  may  suffice  to  render  him  complete: 
sensible  to  his  fate  ! " 

"  Unhappy  man  !  "  said  Eichard,  "  I  wonder  no  longer  i 
thy  misery.  How  didst  thou  escape  the  doom  which  tl 
canons  denounce  against  thy  ofleuse  ?  " 

"  Ask  one  who  is  yet  in  the  gall  of  worldly  bitterness," 
the  hermit,  "  and  he  v/ill  speak  of  a  life  spared  for  person 
respects,  and  from  consideration  to  high  birth.  But,  Richar 
/tell  thee  that  Providence  hath  preserved  me,  to  lift  me  c 
high  as  a  light  and  beacon,  whose  ashes,  when  this  earth 
fuel  is  burnt  out,  must  yet  be  flung  into  Tophet.  Wjthere 
and  shrunk  as  this  poor  form  is,  it  is  yet  animated  with  fcw 
spirits — one  active,  shrewd  and  piercing,  to  advocate  tl 
cause  of  the  Church  of  Jerusalem  ;  one  mean,  abject,  an 
despairing,  fluctuating  between  madness  and  misery,  J 
mourn  over  my  own  wretchedness,  and  to  guard  holy  relic 
on  which  it  would  be  most  sinful  for  me  even  to  cast  .no 
eye.  Pity  me  not  !  it  is  but  sin  to  pity  the  loss  of  such  a 
abject — pity  me  not,  but  profit  by  my  example.  Thou  stant 
est  on  the  highest,  and,  therefore,  on  the  most  dangerouj',,: 
pinnacle  occupied  by  any  Christian  prince.  Thou  art  prouj  j| 
of  heart,  loose  of  life,  bloody  of  hand.  Put  from  thee  th  i 
sins  which  are  to  thee  as  daughters  :  though  they  be  dear  t 
the  sinful  Adam,  expel  these  adopted  furies  from  thy  brea 
—thy  pride,  thy  luxury,  thy  blood-thirstiness  \" 

''He  raves,"  said  Richard,  turning  from  the  solitary  t 
De  Vaux,  as  one  who  felt  some  pain  from  a  sarcasm  whic  v 
yet  he  could  not  resent ;  then  turned  him  calmly,  and  som»^ ., 
what  scornfully,  to  the  anchorite,  as  he  replied — "Thoi^,, 
hast  found  a  fair  bevy  of  daughters,  reverend  father,  to  0C|  >, 
who  hath  been  but  few  months  married  ;  but  since  I  mii!|^i 
put  them  from  my  roof,  it  were  but  like  a  father  to  provifj.' 
them  with  suitable  matches.     Wherefore  I  will  part  witj  ,j 


THE  TALISMAN  19l 

y  pride  to  the  iioble  canons  of  the  church,  my  luxury,  as 
lou  call'st  it,  to  the  monks  of  the  rule,  and  my  blood-thirst- 
ess  to  the  Knights  of  the  Temple. '" 

"  0,  heart  of  steel  and  hand  of  iron/'  said  the  rmchorite. 
upon  whom  example,  as  well  as  advice,  is  alike  thrown 
ray  I  Yet  shalt  thou  be  spared  for  a  season,  in  case  it  so 
!  thou  shouldst  turn  and  do  that  which  is  acceptable  in 
e  sight  of  Heaven.  For  me,  I  must  return  to  my  place. 
yrie  eleison  !  I  am  he  through  whom  the  rays  of  Heavenly 
ace  dart  like  those  of  the  sun  through  a  burning  glass, 
ncentrating  them  on  other  objects  until  they  kindle  and 
aze,  while  the  glass  itself  remains  cold  and  uninfluenced. 
yrie  eleison!  The  poor  must  be  called,  for  the  rich  have 
fused  the  banquet.  Kyrie  eleison!  "  So  saying,  he  burst 
)m  the  tent,  uttering  loud  cries. 

"A  mad  priest  l^'  said  Richard,  from  whose  mind  the 
intic  exclamations  of  the  hermit  had  partly  obliterated  the 
pression  produced  by  the  detail  of  his  personal  history  and 
sfortunes.  "After  him,  De  Yaux,  and  see  he  comes  to 
harm  :  for.  Crusaders  as  Ave  are,  a  juggler  hath  more 
'■erence  amongst  our  varlets  than  a  priest  or  a  saint,  and 
3y  may,  perchance,  put  some  scorn  upon  him." 
The  knight  obeyed,  and  Eichard  presently  gave  way  to  the 
;)ughts  which  the  wild  prophecy  of  the  monk  had  inspired. 
To  die  early — without  lineage — without  lamentation!  a 
nvy  sentence,  and  well  that  it  is  not  passed  by  a  more 
nipetent  judge.  Yet  the  Saracens,  who  are  accomplished 
nnystical  knowledge,  will  often  maintain  that  He  in  whose 
i!S  the  wisdom  of  the  sage  is  but  as  folly  inspires  wisdom 
li  prophecy  into  the  seeming  folly  of  the  madman.  Yon- 
Ir  hermit  is  said  to  read  the  stars  too,  an  art  generally 
DiCtised  in  these  lands,  where  the  heavenly  host  was  of  yore 
;!■  object  of  idolatry.  I  would  I  had  asked  him  touching 
;li  loss  of  my  banner  ;  for  not  the  blessed  Tishbite,  the 
'cnder  of  his  order,  could  seem  more  wnldly  rapt  out  of 
iiself,  or  epeak  with  a  tongue  more  resembling  that  of  a 
3'phet,       How   now,    De  Vaux,  what   news   of   the  mad 

TSSt?" 

'Mad  priest,  call  you  him,  my  lord?"  answered  De 
Vux.  "  Methinks  he  resembles  more  the  blessed  Baptist 
tiiself,  just  issued  from  the  wilderness.  He  has  placed 
ti  iself  on  one  of  the  military  engines,  and  from  thence  he 
[):aches  to  the  soldiers,  as  never  man  preached  since  the 
tie  of  Peter  the  Hermit.  The  camp,  alarmed  by  his  cries, 
3iwd  around  him  in  thousands  ;  and  breaking  off  every  now 


192  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  then  from  the  main  thread  of  his  discourse,  he  address 
the  several  nations,  each  in  their  own  language,  and  press 
upon  each  the  arguments  best  qualified  to  urge  them  to  pe 
severance  in  the  delivery  of  Palestine." 

*'By  this  light,  a  noble  hermit!"  said  King  Eichar. 
"  But  what  else  could  come  from  the  blood  of  Godfrey 
He  despair  of  safetv,  because  he  hath  in  former  days  livt 
par  amours  ?  I  will  have  the  Pope  send  him  an  ample  r 
mission,  and  I  would  not  less  willingly  be  intercessor  hi 
his  helle  amie  been  an  abbess." 

As  he  spoke,  the  Arclibishop  of  Tyre  craved  audience,  f< 
the  purpose  of  requesting  Richard's"^  attendance,  should  h, 
health  permit,  on  a  secret  conclave  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Cri 
sade,  and  to  explain  to  him  the  military  and  political  ii 
cidents  which  had  occurred  during  his  illness. 


ga 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Mxist  we  then  sheathe  our  still  victorious  sword. 
Turn  back  our  forward  step,  which  ever  trode 
O'er  foemen's  necks  the  onward  path  of  glory, 
Unclasp  the  mail,  which  with  a  solemn  vow, 
In  God's  own  house,  we  hung  upon  our  shoulders — 
That  vow,  as  unaccomplish'd  as  the  promise 
Which  village  nurses  make  to  still  their  children. 
And  after  think  no  more  of  ? 
\  The  Crusade,  a  Tragedy. 

!he  Archbishop  of  Tyre  was  au  emissary  well  choseu  to 
(immunicate  to  Eichard  tidings  which  from  another  voice 
le  lion-hearted  king  would  not  have  brooked  to  hear,  with- 
at  the  most  unbounded  explosions  of  resentment.  Even 
•.is  sagacious  and  reverend  prelate  found  difficulty  in  in- 
iicing  him  to  listen  to  news  which  destroyed  all  his  hopes 
(  gaining  back  the  Holy  Sepulcher  by  force  of  arms,  and 
squiring  the  renown  which  the  universal  all-hail  of  Ghris- 
Inilom  was  ready  to  confer  upon  him,  as  the  Champion  of 
le  Cross. 

But,  by  the  archbishop's  report,  it  appeared  that  Saladin 
ns  assembling  all  the  force  of  his  hundred  tribes,  and  that 
te  monarchs  of  Europe,  already  disgusted  from  various 
lotives  with  the  expedition,  which  had  proved  so  hazard- 
( s,  and  was  daily  growing  more  so,  had  resolved  to  aban- 
(n  their  purpose.  In  this  they  were  countenanced  by  the 
eample  of  Philip  of  France,  who,  with  many  protestations 
c  regard,  and  assurances  that  he  would  first  see  his  brothei 
c  England  in  safety,  declared  his  intention  to  return  tc 
hrope.  His  great  vassal,  the  Earl  of  Champagne,  had 
aopted  the  same  resolution  ;  and  it  could  not  excite  sur- 
pse  that  Leopold  of  Austria,  affronted  as  he  had  been  by 
Ichard,  was  glad  to  embrace  an  opportunity  of  deserting  a 
cise  in  which  his  haughty  opponent  was  to  be  considered 
achief.  Others  announced  the  same  purpose;  so  that  it 
fls  plain  that  the  King  of  England  was  to  be  left,  if  lie 
C3se  to  remain,  supported  only  by  sucli  volunteers  as  miglit. 
Oder  such  depressing  circumstances,  join  themselves  to  the 
Iglish  army,  and  by  the  doubtful  aid  of  Conrade  of  Mont- 
is 188 


194  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL8 

Berrat,  and  the  military  orders  of  the  Temple  and  of  S 
John,  who,  though  they  were  sworn  to  wage  liattle  again 
the  Saracens,  were  at  least  equally  jealous  of  any  Europe;) 
monarch  achieving  the  conquest  of  Palestine,  where,  wit 
short-sighted  and  selfish  policy,  they  proposed  to  establit 
independent  dominions  of  their  own. 

It  needed  not  many  arguments  to  show  Richard  the  trut 
of  his  situation  ;  and,  indeed,  after  his  first  burst  of  passioi 
he  sat  him  calmly  down,  and,  with  gloomy  looks,  head  d 
pressed,  and  arms  folded  on  his  bosom,  listened  to  the  arc! 
.bishop's  reasoning  on  the  impossibility  of  his  carrying  c 
the  Crusade  when  deserted  by  his  companions.  Nay,  1 
forbore  interruption,  even  when  the  prelate  ventured,  i 
measured  term.s,  to  hint  that  Richard's  own  impetuosity  he 
been  one  main  cause  of  disgusting  the  prince  with  the  e: 
pedition. 

"  Confiteor,"  answered  Richard,  with  a  dejected  look,  ap 
something  of  a  melancholy  smile;  "I  confess,  revereii 
father,  that  I  ought  on  some  accounts  to  sing  culpa  tnei 
But  is  it  not  hard  that  my  frailties  of  temper  should  be  visiti 
with  such  a  penance — that,  for  a  burst  or  two  of  natur, 
passion,  I  should  be  doomed  to  see  fade  before  me  ungatl  , 
ered  such  a  rich  harvest  of  glory  to  God  and  honor  to  chi- 
airy  ?  But  it  shall  not  fade.  By  the  soul  of  the  Conquero  ' 
I  will  plant  the  cross  on  the  towers  of  Jerusalem,  or  it  sha 
be  planted  over  Richard's  grave  !" 

"Thou  mayst  doit,"  said  the  prelate,  '^yet  not  anotht 
drop  of  Christian  blood  be  shed  in  the  quarrel." 

"  Ah,  you   speak  of  compromise.  Lord  Prelate  ;  but  tl:  , 
blood  of  the  infidel  hounds  must  also  cease  to  flow,"  sai 
Richard.  _         : 

"There  will  be  glory  enough,"  rejolied  the  archbishojj- 
"  in  having  extorted  from  Saladin,  by  force  of  arms,  and  L|, 
the  respect  inspired  by  your  fame,  such  conditions  as  at  onCj  [, 
restore  the  Holy  Sepulcher,  open  the  Holy  Land  to  pi,  '.^ 
grims,  secure  their  safety  by  strong  fortresses,  and,  strong(  "1 
than  all,  assure  the  safety  of  the  Holy  City,  by  conferrinj  ^.' 
on  Richard  the  title  of  King  Guardian  of  Jerusalem."          ' 

"How  !"  said  Richard,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  unusu; 
light,     "I — I — I    the    King   Guardian  of    tlae  Holy  Cit} 
Victory  itself,  but  that  it  is  victory,  could  not  gain  mon  , 
scarce   so    much,  when    won  with  unwilling  and  disunittj;^ 
forces.     But  Saladin  still  proposes  to  retain  his  interest  i: '" 
the  Holy  Land?" 

**As  a  joint  sovereign,  the  sworn  ally,"  replied  the  pre 


THE  TALISMAN  195 

e,  ''  of  the  miglity  Richard — his  relative,  if  it  may  be  per- 
itted,  by  marriage." 

*'By  marriage  ! "  said  Eichard,  surprised,  yet  less  so  than 
,e  prelate  had  expected.  "  Ha  !  Ay — Edith  Plantagenet ! 
id  I  dream  this  or  did  some  one  tell  me  ?  My  head  is  still 
3ak  from  this  fever,  and  has  been  agitated.  Was  it  the 
:ot,  or  the  Hakim,  or  yonder  holy  hermit  that  hinted  such 
kvild  bargain  ?" 

'*  The  hermit  of  Engaddi,  most  likely,"  said  the  arch- 
ishop,  "  for  he  hath  toiled  much  in  this  matter  ;  and  since 
;e  discontent  of  the  princes  has  become  apparent,  and  a 
;3aration  of  their  forces  unavoidable,  he  hath  had  many 
;nsultations,  both  with  Christian  and  Pagan,  for  arranging 
!ch  a  pacification  as  may  give  to  Christendom,  at  least  in 
:rt,  the  objects  of  this  holy  warfare." 
"  My  kinswoman  to  an  infidel — ha  !  "  exclaimed  Richard, 
ijhis  eyes  began  to  sparkle. 

irhe  prelate  hastened  to  avert  his  wrath.  "  The  Pope's 
jiisent  must  doubtless  be  first  attained,  and  the  holy  her- 
ijt,  who  is  well  known  at  Rome,  will  treat  with  the  holy 
Either." 

i'  How  !  without  our  consent  first  given  ?  "  said  the  King. 
"''  Surely  no,"  said  the  bishop,  in  a  quieting  and  insinu- 
iiig  tone  of  voice  ;  "  only  with  and  under  your  especial 
isction." 

J*  My  sanction  to  marry  my  kinswoman  to  an  infidel  !  " 
lal  Richard  ;  yet  he  spoke  rather  in  a  tone  of  doubt  than  as 
liinctiy  reprobating  the  measure  proposed.  "  Could  I 
i;e  dreamed  of  such  a  composition  when  I  leaped  upon 
1  Syrian  shore  from  the  prow  of  my  galley,  even  as  a  lion 

iji'ngs  on  his  prey  ;  and  now ?     But  proceed,  I  will 

itr  with  patience." 

Iqually  delighted  and  surprised  to  find  his  task  so  much 
;aer  than  he  had  apprehended,  the  archbishop  hastened  to 
XT  forth  before  Richard  the  instances  of  such  alliances  in 
^|in,  not  without  countenance  from  the  Holy  See,  the  in- 
ia'ulable  advantages  which  all  Christendom  would  derive 
'.Vid  the  union  of  Richard  and  Saladin  by  a  bond  so  sacred  ; 
in,  above  all,  he  spoke  with  great  vehemence  and  unction 
)i]the  probability  that  Saladin  would,  in  case  of  the  pro- 
)o;d  alliance,  exchange  his  false  faith  for  the  true  one. 

Hath  the  Soldan  shown  any  disposition  to  become 
GHstian?"  said  Richard;  "if  so,  the  king  lives  not  on 
3ah  to  whom  I  would  grant  the  hand  of  a  kinswoman — ay, 
orlster — sooner  than  to  my  noble  Saladin — ay,  though  the 


196  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

one  came  to  lay  crown  and  scepter  at  her  feet,  and  the  othe 
had  nothing  to  offer  but  his  good  sword  and  better  heart." 

"  Saladin  hath   heard  our  Christian  teachers,"  said  th 
bishop,  somewhat  evasively — "  my  unworthy  self,  and  others 
and  as  he  listens  with  patience,  and  replies  with  calmness,  i 
can  hardly  be  but  that  he  be  snatched  as  a  brand  from  th 
burning.     Magna  est  Veritas,  et  prevalebit.     Moreover,  th 
hermit  of  Engaddi,  few  of  whose  words  have  fallen  fruitles 
to  the  ground,  is  possessed  fully  with  the  belief  that  there  i 
a  calling  of  the  Saracens  and  the  other  heathen  approachius 
to  whicli  this  marriage  shall  be  matter  of  induction.     H 
readeth  the  course  of  the  stars  ;  and  dwelling,  with  macerf  ■' 
tion  of  the  flesh,  in  those  divine  places  which   the  saint  ; 
have  trodden  of  old,  the  spirit  of  Elijah  the  Tishbite,  th  : 
founder  of  his  blessed  order,  hath  been  with  him  as  it  w£ 
with  the  prophet  Elisha,  the  son  of  Shaphat,  when  he  sprea 
his  mantle  over  him." 

King  Richard  listened  to  the  prelate's  reasoning  with 
downcast  brow  and  a  troubled  look. 

*'  I  cannot  tell,"  he  said,  ''  how  it  is  with  me  ;  but  m(| 
thinks  these  cold  counsels  of  the  princes  of  Christendoi 
have  infected  me  too  with  a  lethargy  of  spirit.  The  tim 
hath  been  that,  had  a  layman  proposed  such  alliance  to  me 
I  had  struck  him  to  earth  ;  if  a  churchman,  I  had  spit  i 
him  as  a  renegade  and  priest  of  Baal  ;  yet  now  tliis  couns( 
sounds  not  so  strange  in  mine  ear.  For  why  should  I  nc 
seek  for  brotherhood  and  alliance  with  a  Saracen,  bravd 
just,  generous,  who  loves  and  honors  a  worthy  foe  as  if  hi 
were  a  friend  ;  whilst  the  princes  of  Christendom  shrim 
from  the  side  of  their  allies,  and  fO/rsake  the  cause  of  Heavej 
and  good  knighthood  ?  Bat  I  will  possess  my  patience,  am 
will  not  think  of  them.  Only  one  attempt  will  1  make  t 
keep  this  gallant  brotherhood  together,  if  it  be  possible  ;  an  iii; 
if  1  fail.  Lord  Archbishop,  we  will  speak  togetlier  of  thi  ;; 
counsel,  which,  as  now,  I  neither  accept  nor  altogethi 
reject.  Wend  we  to  the  council,  my  lord — the  hour  cal 
us.  Thou  say'st  Richard  is  hasty  and  proud  ;  thou  shalt  st 
him  humble  himself  like  the  lowly  broom-plant  from  whic 
he  derives  his  surname." 

With  the  assistance  of  those  of  his  privy-chamber,  tl 
King  then  hastily  robed  himself  in  a  doublet  and  mantle  ( 
a  dark  and  uniform  color  ;  and  without  any  mark  of  regfjsi 
dignity,  exce[)ting  a  ring  of  gold  upon  his  head,  he  hastenej  t 
with  the  Archbishop  of  Tyre  to  attend  the  council,  whic 
waited  but  his  presence  to  commence  its  sitting. 


THE  TALISMAN  197 

The  pavilion  of  the  council  was  an  ample  tent,  having  be- 
fore it  the  large  banner  of  the  cross  displayed,  and  another, 
m  which  was  portrayed  a  female  kneeling,  with  disheveled 
lair  and  disordered  dress,  meant  to  represent  the  desolate 
md  distressed  Church  of  Jerusalem,  and  bearing  the  motto, 
Afflictce  sponstB  ne  oUiviscaris.  Warders,  carefully  selected, 
cept  every  one  at  a  distance  from  the  neighborhood  of  this 
;ent,  lest  the  debates,  which  were  sometimes  of  a  loud  and 
stormy  character,  should  reach  other  ears  than  those  they 
ivere  designed  for. 

Here,  therefore,  the  princes  of  the  Crusade  were  asseni- 
jled,  awaiting  Ricliard's  arrival ;  and  even  the  brief  delay 
vhich  was  thus  interposed  was  turned  to  his  disadvantage 
)y  his  enemies ;  various  instances  being  circulated  of  his 
wide  and  undue  assumption  of  superiority,  of  which  even 
he  necessity  of  the  present  short  pause  was  quoted  as  a-.i  in- 
tanco.  Men  strove  to  fortify  each  other  in  their  evil 
Kpinion  of  the  King  of  England,  and  vindicated  the  offense 
fhich  each  had  taken,  by  putting  the  most  severe  construc- 
iion  upon  circumstances  tlie  most  trifling ;  and  all  this,  per- 
i-taps, because  they  were  conscious  of  an  instinctive  reverence 
or  tlie  heroic  monarch,  which  it  would  require  more  than 
rdinary  efforts  to  overcome. 

;  They  had  settled  accordingly,  that  they  should  receive 
im  on  his  entrance  with  slight  notice,  and  no  more  respect 
lan  was  exactly  necessary  to  keep  within  the  bounds 
f  cold  ceremonial.  But  when  they  beheld  that  noble  form, 
lat  princely  countenance,  somewhat  pale  from  his  late  ill- 
ess,  the  eye  which  had  been  called  by  ministrels  the  bright 
■ar  of  battle  and  victory — when  his  feats,  almost  surpassing 
uman  strength  and  valor  rushed  on  their  recollection,  the 
)uncil  of  princes  simultaneously  arose — even  the  jealous 
i.ing  of  France,  and  the  sullen  and  offended  Duke  of  Austria, 
'•ose  with  one  consent,  and  the  assembled  princes  burst  forth 
itli  one  voice  in  the  acclamation,  "  God  save  King  Eichard 
■'  England  !  Long  life  to  the  valiant  Lion's-Leart ! " 
SWith  a  countenance  frank  and  open  as  the  summer  sun 
"hen  it  rises,  Richard  distributed  his  thanks  around,  and 
"■ngratulated  himself  on  being  once  more  among  his  royal 
1  ethren  of  the  Crusades. 

"Some  brief  words  he  desired  to  say,"  such  was  his  ad- 
less  to  the  assembly,  "  though  on  a  subject  so  unworthy  as 
hnself,  even  at  the  risk  of  delaying  for  a  few  minutes  their 
.tnsultations  for  the  weal  of  Christendom  and  the  advance- 
I3iit  of  their  holy  enterprise." 


198  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


The  assembled  princes  resumed  their  seats,  and  there  w£ 
a  profound  silence. 

"This  day,"  continued  the  King  of  England,  "is  a  hig 
festival  of  the  church  ;  and  well  becomes  it  Christian  mer 
at  such  a  tide,  to  reconcile  themselves  with  their  brethrer 
and  confess  their  faults  to  each  other.  Xoble  princes,  an 
fathers  of  this  holy  expedition,  Richard  is  a  soldier  :  h; 
hand  is  ever  readier  than  his  tongue,  and  his  tongue  is  br 
too  much  used  to  the  rough  language  of  his  trade.  But  d 
not,  for  Plantagenet's  hasty  speeches  and  ill-considere 
actions,  forsake  the  noble  cause  of  the  redemption  of  Palestine 
do  not  throw  away  earthly  renown  and  eternal  salvation,  t 
be  won  here  if  ever  they  can  be  won  by  man,  because  the  a( 
of  a  soldier  may  have  been  hasty,  and  his  speech  as  hard  i 
the  iron  which"^he  has  worn  from  childhood.  Is  Pilchard  i, 
default  to  any  of  you,  Richard  will  make  compensation  hot 
by  word  and  action.  Noble  brother  of  France,  have  1  bee 
so  unlucky  as  to  offend  you  ?  " 

"  The  Majesty  of  France  has  no  atonement  to  seek  froi  ^ 
that  of  England,"  answered  Philip,  with  kingly  dignity,  a(  g, 
cepting,  at  the  same  time,  the  offered  hand  of  Richard  I 
"and  whatever  opinion  I  may  adopt  concerning  the  pros("7; 
cution  of  this  enterprise  will  depend  on  reasons  arising  oi  . 
of  the  state  of  my  own  kingdom,  certainly  on  no  jealousy  c 
disgust  at  mv  royal  and  most  valorous  brother." 

"Austria,"  said  Richard,  walking  up  to  the  Archduke  wit 
a  mixture  of  frankness  and    dignity,   while   Leopold  aro^ 
from  his  seat,  as  if  involuntarily,  and  with  the  action  of  a 
automaton,  whose  motions  depended  upon  some  external  in 
pulse_"Austria  thinks  he  hath  reason  to  be  offended  wit: .,; 
England  ;    England,    that   he   hath   cause  to   complam  cj^,. 
Austria.     Let  them  exchange  forgiveness,  that  the  peace  d,. 
Europe,  and  the  concord  of  this  host,  may  remain  unbrokerj^ 
We  are  now  joint-supporters  of  a  more  glorious  banner  tha-jji, 
ever  blazed  before  an  eartlily  prince,   even  the  Banner  cjj. 
Salvation  ;  let  not,  therefore,  strife  be  betwixt  us  for  thj^, 
Bvmbol  of  our  more  worldlv  dignities;   but  let  Leopold  n,,. 
store  the  pennon  of  England,  if  he  has  it  in  his  power,  an,, 
Richard  will  say,  though  from  no  motive  save  his  love  fcj., 
Holy  Church,  that  he  repents  him  of  the^  hasty  mood  i^J 
which  he  did  insult  the  standard  of  Austria."  _        y. 

The  Archduke  stood  still,  sullen  and  discontented,  with  hij 
eves  fixed  on  the  floor,  and  his  countenance  lowering  wit^. 
smothered  displeasure,  which  awe,  mingled  with  awkwarOpj. 
ness,  prevented  his  giving  vent  to  in  words.  j  ^j; 


THE  TALISMAN  199 

The  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem  hastened  to  break  the  em- 
arrassing  silence,  and  to  bear  witness  for  the  Archduice  of 
ustria,  tliat  he  had  exculpated  himself,  by  a  solemn  oath, 
•cm  all  knowledge,  director  indirect,  of  the  aggression  done 
)  the  banner  of  England. 

"  Then  we  have  done  the  noble  Archduke  the  greater 
rong,"  said  Richard  ;  "  and  craving  his  pardon  for  imputing 
>  him  an  outrage  so  cowardly,  we  extend  our  hand  to  him 

token  of  renewed  peace  and  amity.  But  how  is  this  ? 
ustria  refuses  our  uncovered  hand,  as  he  formerly  refused 
ir  mailed  glove  ?  What  !  are  we  neither  to  be  his  mate  in 
ace  nor  his  antagonist  in  war  ?  Well,  let  it  be  so.  We 
ill  take  the  slight  esteem  in  which  he  holds  us  as  a  penance 
r  aught  which  we  may  have  done  against  him  in  heat  of 
ood,  and  will  therefore  hold  the  account  between  us 
eared." 
So  saying,  he  turned  from  the  Archduke  with  an  air  rather 

diirnity  than  scorn,  leaving  the  Austrian  apparently  as 
uch  relieved  by  the  removal  of  his  eye  as  is  a  sullen  and 
nant  schoolboy  when  the  glance  of  his  severe  pedagogue  is 
withdrawn. 

"Noble  Earl  of  Champagne — princely  Marquis  of  Mont- 
irrat — valiant  Grand  Master  of  the  Templars,  1  am  here  a 
j'.nitent  in  the  confessional.  Do  any  of  you  bring  a  charge, 
I,  claim  amends  from  me  ?" 

"I  know  not  on  what  we  could  ground  any,"  said  the 
ijiooth-tongued  Conrade,  "  unless  it  were  that  the  King  of 
Jigland  carries  off  from  his  poor  brothers  of  the  war  all  the 
Ime  which  they  might  have  hoped  to  gain  in  the  expedition." 
"  ]\[y  charge,  if  I  am  called  on  to  make  one,"  said  the 
laster  of  the  Templars,  "  is  graver  and  deeper  than  that  of 
(e  Marquis  of  Montserrat.  It  may  be  thought  ill  to  beseem 
military  monk  such  as  I  to  raise  his  voice  where  so  many 
tble  princes  remain  silent ;  but  it  concerns  our  whole  host, 
sd  not  least  this  noble  King  of  England,  that  he  should 
tar  from  some  one  to  his  face  those  charges  which  there 
33  enow  to  bring  against  him  in  his  absence.  We  laud  and 
tnor  the  courage  and  high  achievements  of  the  King  of 
hgland,  but  we  feel  aggrieved  that  he  should,  on  all 
:3asions.  seize  and  maintain  a  precedence  and  superiority 
:3r  us  which  it  becomes  not  independent  princes  to  submit 
''  Much  we  might  yield  of  our  free  will  to  his  bravery,  his 
ul,  liis  wealth,  and  "his  power  ;  but  he  who  snatches  all,  as 
citter  of  right,  and  leaves  nothing  to  grant  out  of  courtesy 
id  favor,  degrades  us  from  allies  into  retainers  and  vassals. 


200  WA  VERLET  N 0 VEL8 

and  sullies,  in  the  eyes  of  our  soldiers  and  subjects,  the  luste_,„ 
of  our  authority,  which  is  no  longer  independently  exercised  il 
Since  the  Royal  Richard  has  asked  the  truth  from  us,  h(i  uii 
must  neither  be  surprised  nor  angry  when  he  hears  one  t(  m 
whom  worldly  pomp  is  prohibited,  and  secular  authority  ^i 
is  nothing,  saving  so  far  as  it  advances  the  prosperity  o  i 
God's  temple,  and  the  prostration  of  the  lion  which  goetlj  jt 
about  seeking  whom  he  may  devour — when  he  hears,  1  say  § 
such  a  one  as  I  tell  him  the  truth  in  reply  to  his  question  i 
which  truth,  even  while  I  speak  it,  is,  I  know,  confirmed  by  thi  jtl 
heart  of  every  one  who  hears  me,  however  respect  may  stifli  In 
their  voices."  i 

Richard  colored  very  highly  while  the  Grand  Master  was  ijl 
making  this  direct  and  unvarnished  attack  upon  his  conduct  i 
and  the  murmur  of  assent  which  followed  it  showed  plainly  i 
that  almost  all  who  were  present  acquiesced  in  the  justice  ol  tit 
the  accusation.  Incensed,  and  at  the  same  time  mortified.!  jm 
he  yet  foresaw  that  to  give  way  to  his  headlong  resentmenij  w 
would  be  to  give  the  cold  and  wary  accuser  the  advantag(|  i^ 
over  him  which  it  was  the  Templar's  principal  object  to  ob-  '; 
tain.  He,  therefore,  with  a  strong  effort,  remained  silenl  . 
till  he  had  repeated  a  paternoster,  being  the  course  whicl,  ■ 
his  confessor  had  enjoined  him  to  pursue,  when  anger  wa^j  if 
likely  to  obtain  dominion  over  him.  The  King  then  spoke)  j 
with  composure,  though  not  without  an  embittered  tone, 
especially  at  the  outset. 

"And  is  it  even  so?  And  are  our  brethren  at  such,. 
pains  to  note  the  infirmities  of  our  natural  temper,  and  thej  j, 
rough  precipitance  of  our  zeal,  which  may  sometimes' havej,, 
urged  us  to  issue  commands  when  there  was  little  time  to]  j, 
hold  counsel  ?  I  could  not  have  thought  that  offences  casualj  ^ 
and  unpremeditated  like  mine  could  find  such  deep  root  in;  ]\ 
the  hearts  of  my  allies  in  this  most  holy  cause,  that  for  myj} 
sake  they  should  withdraw  their  hand  from  the  plow  whenj  j; 
the  furrow  was  near  the  end,  for  my  sake  turn  aside  from  thej  ,j 
direct  path  to  Jerusalem  which  their  swords  have  opened.  Ij  j 
vainly  thought  that  my  small  services  might  have  outweighedj  ^, 
my  rash  errors  ;  that,  if  it  were  remembered  that  I  pressed]  :.j 
to  the  van  in  an  assault,  it  would  not  be  forgotten  that  I  wasj  .^ 
ever  the  last  in  the  retreat;  that,  if  I  elevated  my  bannerj.jj 
apon  conquered  fields  of  battle,  it  was  all  the  advantage  th:it|  ,j 
1  sought,  while  others  were  dividing  the  spoil.  I  may  havcj^ 
called  the  conquered  city  by  my  name,  but  it  was  to  othersj  j 
that  I  yielded  the  dominion.  If  I  have  been  headstrong  ir.|;g 
urging  bold  counsels,  1  have  not,  methinks,  spared  my  ow»  j 


THE  TALISMAN  201 

lood  or  my  people's  in  carrying  them  into  as  bold  execution  ; 
•  if  I  have,  in  the  h'lrry  of  march  or  battlC;  assumed  a  com- 
and  over  the  soldiers  of  others,  such  have  been  ever  treated 
1  my  own,  when  my  wealth  purchased  the  provisions  and 
edicines  Aviiich  their  own  povereigns  could  not  procure.  But 
shames  me  to  remind  you  of  what  all  but  myself  seem  to 
ive  forgotten.  Let  us  rather  look  forward  to  our  future 
easures  ;  and  believe  me,  brethren,''  he  continued,  his  face 
iidled  with  eagerness,  '*  you  shall  not  find  the  pride,  or  the 
rath,  or  the  ambition  of  Richard  a  stumbling-block  of 
fence  in  the  path  to  which  religion  and  glory  summon  you, 
;  with  the  trumpet  of  an  archangel.  Oh  no — no  !  never 
ould  I  survive  the  thought  that  my  frailties  and  infirmities 
id  been  the  means  to  sever  this  goodly  fellowship  of  as- 
mbled  princes.  I  would  cut  off  my  left  hand  with  my 
ght  could  my  doing  so  attest  my  sincerity.  I  will  yield  up 
)luntarily,  all  right  to  command  in  the  host,  even  mine  own 
3ge  subjects.  They  shall  be  led  by  such  sovereigns  as  you 
ay  nominate,  and  their  king,  ever  but  too  apt  to  exchange 
e  leader's  baton  for  the  adventurer's  lance,  will  serve  under 
lie  banner  of  Beau-Seant  among  the  Templars — ay,  or  under 
iat  of  Austria,  if  Austria  will  name  a  brave  man  to  lead 
■s  forces.  Or,  if  ye  are  yourselves  a-weary  of  this  war,  and 
:el  your  armor  chafe  your  tender  bodies,  leave  but  with 
Jichard  some  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  of  your  soldiers  to  work 
(it  the  accomplishment  of  your  vow  ;  and  when  Zion  is  won," 
',)  exclaimed,  waving  his  hand  aloft,  as  if  displaying  the 
liandard  of  the  Cross  over  Jerusalem — "  when  Zion  is  won, 
•3  will  write  upon  her  gates,  not  the  name  of  Eichard 
lantagenet,  but  of  those  generous  princes  who  entrusted 
;m  with  the  means  of  conquest." 

The  rough  eloquence  and  determined  expression  of  the 
■.ilitary  monarch  at  once  roused  the  drooping  spirits  of  the 
(usaders,  reanimated  their  devotion,  and,  fixing  their  atten- 
:)n  on  the  principal  object  of  the  expedition,  made  most  of 
;em  who  were  present  blush  for  having  been  moTed  by  such 
itty  subjects  of  complaint  as  had  before  engrossed  them. 
;ye  caught  fire  from  eye,  voice  lent  courage  to  voice.  They 
:sumed,  as  with  one  accord,  the  war-cry  with  which  the 
irmon  of  Peter  the  Hermit  was  echoed  back,  and  shouted 
;oud,  "  Lead  us  on,  gallant  Lion's-heart,  none  so  worthy  to 
ad  where  brave  men  follow.  Lead  us  on — to  Jerusalem — 
'  Jerusalem  !  It  is  the  will  of  God — it  is  the  will  of  God  ! 
lessed  is  he  who  shall  lend  an  arm  to  its  fulfilment  ! " 
The  shout,  so  sudden  and  generally  raised,  was  heard  be- 


202  H'AVERLEY  NOVELS 

yond  the  ring  of  sentinels  who  guarded  the  pavilion  of  cou; 
oil,  and  spread  among  the  soldiers  of  the  host,  who,  inacti' 
and  dispirited  by  disease  and  climate,  had  begun,  like  the 
leaders,  to  drop  in  resolution  ;  but  the  reappearance  > 
Richard  in  renewed  vigor,  and  the  well-known  shout  whi( 
echoed  from  the  assembly  of  the  princes,  at  once  rekindh 
their  enthusiasm,  and  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  an 
wered  with  the  same  shout  of  "  Zion — Zion  !  War — war  !- 
instant  battle  with  the  infidels  !  It  is  the  will  of  God — it 
the  will  of  God  !  " 

The  acclamations  from  without  increased  in  their  tni 
the  enthusiasm  which  prevailed  within  the  pavilion.  Thoi 
who  did  not  actually  catch  the  flame  were  afraid,  at  least  t 
the  time,  to  seem  colder  than  others.  There  was  no  moi 
speech  except  of  a  proud  advance  toward  Jerusalem  upc 
the  expiry  of  the  truce,  and  the  measures  to  be  taken  in  til 
mean  time  for  supplying  and  recruiting  the  army.  Tl 
council  broke  up,  all  apparently  filled  with  the  same  enthuJ 
iastic  purpose,  which,  however,  soon  faded  in  the  bosom  (I 
most,  and  never  had  an  existence  in  that  of  others. 

Of  the  latter  class  were  the  Marquis  Conrade  and  tl 
Grand  Master  of  the  Templars,  who  retired  together  to  thfti 
quarters  ill  at  ease,  and  malcontent  with  the  events  of  thj 
day.  _  _  t 

"I  ever  told  it  to  thee,"  said  the  latter,  with  the  colcj 
sardonic  expression  peculiar  to  him,  "  that  Richard  wouli 
burst  through  the  flimsy  wiles  you  spread  for  him,  as  woul 
a  lion  through  a  spider's  web.  Thou  seest  he  has  but  t 
speak,  and  his  breath  agitates  these  fickle  fools  as  easily  a 
the  whirlwind  catcheth  scattered  straws  and  sweeps  them  tc 
gether  or  disperses  them  at  its  pleasure." 

"  When  the  blast  has  passed  away,"  said  Conrade,  "  thl 
straws,  which  it  made  dance  to  its  pipe,  will  settle  to  eart'.' 
again." 

"  But  know'st  thou  not  besides,"  said  the  Templar,  "tha 
it  seems,  if  this  new  purpose  of  conquest  shall  be  abandonei 
and  pass  away,  and  each  mighty  prince  shall  again  be  left  t| 
such  guidance  as  his  own  scanty  brain  can  supply,  Richani 
may  yet  probably  become  King  of  Jerusalem  by  compact! 
and  establish  those  terms  of  treaty  with  the  Soldan  whicl! 
thou  thyself  thought'st  him  so  likely  to  spurn  at  ?" 

"  Now,  by  Mahound  and  Termagaunt,  for  Christian  oath 
are  out  of  fashion,"  said  Conrade,  "say'st  thou  the  proiK^ 
King  of  England  would  unite  his  blood  with  a  heather 
Soldan  ?     My  policy  threw  in  that  ingredient  to  make  tb 


THE  TALISMAN  203 

whole  treaty  an  abomination  to  him.  As  bad  for  us  that  he 
become  our  master  by  an  agreement  as  by  victory." 

"  Thy  pohcy  hath  ill  calculated  Kichard's  digestion,"  an- 
swered the  Templar  ;  "  I  know  his  mind  by  a  whisper  from 
the  arcb  bishop.  And  then  thy  master-stroke  respecting 
yonder  banner — it  has  passed  off  with  no  more  respect  than 
two  cubits  of  embroidered  silk  merited.  Marquis  Conrade, 
thy  wit  begins  to  halt  ;  I  will  trust  thy  fine-spun  measures 
no  longer,  but  will  try  my  own.  Know'st  thou  not  the  people 
whom  the  Saracens  call  "Charegites  ?  " 

''Surely,"  answered  the  Marquis;  "they  are  desperate 
and  besotted  enthusiasts,  who  devote  their  lives  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  religion  ;  somewhat  like  Temjjlars,  only  they 
are  never  known  to  pause  in  the  race  of  their  calling." 

"Jest  not,"  answered  the  scowling  monk  ;  "know,  that 
one  of  these  men  has  set  down  in  his  bloody  vow  the  name 
of  the  island  emperor  yonder,  to  be  hewn  down  as  the  chief 
enemy  of  the  Moslem  faith." 

"  A  most  judicious  paynim,"  said  Conrade.  "  May  Maho- 
met send  him  his  paradise  for  a  reward  ! " 

"  He  was  taken  in  the  camp  by  one  of  our  squires,  and, 
in  private  examination,  frankly  avowed  his  fixed  and  deter- 
mined purpose  to  me,"  said  the  Grand  Master. 

"  Now  the  Heavens  pardon  them  who  prevented  the  pur- 
pose of  this  most  judicious  Charegite  !  "  answered  Conrade. 

"He  is  my  prisoner,"  added  the  Templar,  "and  secluded 
from  speech  with  others,  as  thou  mayst  suppose  ;  but  prisons 
have  been  broken " 

"  Chains  left  unlocked,  and  captives  have  escaped,"  an- 
swered the  Marquis.  "It  is  an  ancient  saying,  'No  sure 
dungeon  but  the  grave.'" 

"  When  loose  he  resumes  his  quest,"  continued  the  mili- 
tary priest,  "  for  it  is  the  nature  of  this  sort  of  bloodhound 
never  to  quit  the  slot  of  the  prey  he  has  once  scented." 

"  Say  no  more  of  it," said  the  Marquis  ;  "I  see  thy  policy 
— it  is  dreadful,  but  the  emergency  is  imminent." 

"  I  only  told  thee  of  it,"  said  the  Templar,  "  that  thou 
mayst  keep  thyself  on  thy  guard,  for  the  uproar  will  be 
dreadful,  and  there  is  no  knowing  on  whom  the  English  may 
vent  their  rage.  Ay,  there  is  another  risk  :  my  page  knows 
the  counsels  of  this  Charegite,"  he  continued  ;  "and,  more- 
over, he  is  a  peevish,  self-willed  fool,  whom  I  would  I  were 
rid  of,  as  he  thwarts  me  by  presuming  to  see  with  his  own 
eyes,  not  mine.  But  our  holy  Order  gives  me  power  to  put 
a  remedy  to  such  inconvenience.     Or  stay — the  Saracen  may 


204  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

find  a  good  dagger  in  his  cell,  and  I  warrant  yon  he  uses  it 
as  he  breaks  forth,  which  will  be  of  a  surety  as  soon  as  the 
page  enters  with  his  food. 

"It  will  give  the  affair  a  color,"  said  Conrade  ;  "and 
yet " 

"*  Yet' and  '  but,'"  said  the  Templar,  "  are  words  for 
fools  :  wise  men  neither  hesitate  nor  retract :  they  resolve 
and  they  execute." 


CHAPTER  XX 

When  beauty  leads  the  lion  in  her  toils, 

Such  are  her  charms,  he  dare  not  raise  his  man*, 

Far  less  expand  the  terror  of  his  fangs. 

So  great  Alcides  made  his  club  a  distaff, 

And  spun  to  please  fair  Omphale. 

Anonyvfums. 

Richard,  the  unsuspicious  object  of  the  dark  treachery  de- 
tailed in  the  closing  part  of  the  last  chapter,  having  eifected 
for  the  present  at  least,  the  triniphant  union  of  the  Crusad- 
ing princes  in  a  resolution  to  prosecute  the  war  with  vigor, 
had  it  next  at  heart  to  establish  tranquillity  in  his  own 
family  ;  and,  now  that  he  could  judge  more  temperately,  to 
inquire  distinctly  into  the  circumstances  leading  to  the  loss 
of  his  banner,  and  tlie  nature  and  the  extent  of  the  connec- 
tion betwixt  bis  kinswoman  Edith  and  the  banished  adven- 
turer from  Scotland. 

Accordingly,  the  Queen  and  her  household  were  startled 
with  a  visit  from  Sir  Thomas  de  Vaiix,  requesting  the  present 
attendance  of  the  Lady  Calista  of  Montfau9on,  the  Queen^s 
principal  bower-woman,  upon  King  Richard. 

"  What  am  I  to  say,  madam  ?  "  said  the  trembling  atten- 
dant to  the  Queen.     "  He  will  slay  us  all." 

"  Nay,  fear  not,  madam,"  said  De  Yaux.  "  His  Majesty 
hath  spared  the  life  of  the  Scottish  knight,  who  was  the, 
chief  offender,  and  bestowed  him  upon  the  Moorish  physi- 
cian :  he  will  not  be  severe  upon  a  lady,  though  faulty." 

"  Devise  some  cunning  tale,  wench,"  said  Berengaria. 
"  My  husband  hath  too  little  time  to  make  inquiry  into  the 
truth." 

*'  Tell  the  tale  as  it  really  happened,"  said  Edith,  **  lest 
I  tell  it  for  thee." 

"  With  humble  permission  of  her  Majesty,"  said  De  Vaux, 
**  I  would  say  Lady  Edith  adviseth  well ;  for  although  King 
Richard  is  pleased  to  believe  what  it  pleases  your  Grace  to 
tell  him,  yet  I  doubt  his  having  the  same  deference  for  the 
Lady  Calista,  and  in  this  especial  matter." 

"  The  Lord  of  Gisland  is  right,"  said  the  Lady  Calista, 
much  agitated  at  the  thoughts  of  the  investigation  whicij 
206 


206  wavi:rley  novels 

■was  to  take  place  ;  "  and,  besides,  if  I  had  presence  of  mind 
enough  to  forge  a  plausible  story,  beshrew  me  if  I  think  I 
should  have  the  courage  to  tell  it.'' 

In  this  candid  humor,  the  Lady  Calista  was  conducted  by 
De  Vaux  to  the  King,  and  made,  as  she  had  proposed,  a  full 
confession  of  the  decoy  by  which  the  unfortunate  Knight  of 
the  Leopard  had  been  induced  to  desert  his  post ;  exculpat- 
ing the  Lady  Edith,  who,  she  was  aware,  would  not  fail  to 
exculpate  herself,  and  laying  the  full  burden  on  the  Queen, 
her  mistress,  whose  share  of  the  frolic,  she  well  knew,  would 
appear  the  most  venial  in  the  eyes  of  Cceur-de-Lion.  In 
truth,  Richard  was  a  fond,  almost  an  uxorious,  husband. 
The  first  burst  of  his  wratli  had  long  since  passed  away,  and 
he  was  not  disposed  severely  to  censure  what  could  not  now 
be  amended.  The  wily  Lady  Calista,  accustomed  from  her 
earliest  childhood  to  fathom  the  intrigues  of  a  court  and 
watch  the  indications  of  a  sovereign's  will,  hastened  back  to 
the  Queen  with  the  speed  of  a  lapwing,  charge-I  with  the 
King's  commands  that  she  should  expect  a  speedy  visit  from 
him  ;  to  which  the  bower-lady  added  a  commentary  founded 
on  her  own  observation,  tending  to  show  that  Richard  meant 
just  to  preserve  so  much  severity  as  might  bring  his  royal 
consort  to  repent  of  her  frolic,  and  then  to  extend  to  her  and 
all  concerned  his  gracious  pardon. 

"  Sits  the  wind  in  that  corner,  wench  ?"  said  the  Queen, 
mnch  relieved  by  this  intelligence.  "  Believe  nie  that,  great 
commander  as  he  is,  Richard  will  find  it  hard  to  circumvent 
us  in  this  matter  ;  and  that,  as  the  Pyrenean  shepherds  are 
wont  to  say  in  my  native  Navarre,  many  a  one  comes  for  wool 
and  goes  back  shorn." 

Having  posessed  herself  of  all  the  information  wliich  Calista 
could  communicate,  the  royal  Berengaria  arrayed  herself  in 
her  most  becoming  dress,  and  awaited  with  confidence  the 
arrival  of  the  heroic  Richard. 

He  arrived,  and  found  himself  in  the  situation  of  a  prince 
entering  an  offending  province  in  the  confidence  that  his 
business  will  only  be  to  inflict  rebuke  and  receive  submission, 
when  he  unexpectedly  finds  it  in  a  state  of  complete  defiance 
and  insurrection.  Berengaria  well  knew  the  power  of  her 
charms  and  the  extent  of  Richard's  affection,  and  felt  assured 
that  she  could  make  her  own  terms  good,  now  that  the  first 
tremendous  explosion  of  his  anger  had  expended  itself  with- 
out mischief.  Far  from  listening  to  the  King's  intended  re- 
buke, as  what  the  levity  of  her  conduct  had  justly  deserved. 
she  extenuated,  nay  defended,  as  a  harmless  frolic,  that  which 


TEE  TALISMAN  207 

she  was  accused  of.  She  denied,  indeed,  with  many  a 
pretty  form  of  negation,  that  she  had  directed  Nectabanus 
absohitely  to  entice  the  knight  farther  than  the  brink  of  the 
monnt  on  which  he  kept  watch — and  indeed  this  was  so  far 
true,  that  she  had  not  designed  Sir  Kenneth  to  be  intro- 
duced into  her  tent ;  and  then,  eloquent  in  urging  her  own 
defence,  the  Queen  was  far  more  so  in  pressing  upon 
Eichard  the  charge  of  unkindness,  in  refusing  her  so  poor  a 
boon  as  the  life  of  an  unfortunate  knight,  who,  by  her 
thoughtless  prank,  had  been  brought  within  the  danger  of 
martial  law.  She  wept  and  sobbed  while  she  enlarged  on 
her  husband's  obduracy  on  this  score,  as  a  rigor  which  had 
threatened  to  make  her  unhappy  for  life,  whenever  she 
should  reflect  that  she  had  given,  unthinkingly,  the  remote 
cause  for  such  a  tragedy.  The  vision  of  the  slaughtered 
victim  would  have  haunted  her  dreams — nay,  for  aught  she 
knew,  since  such  things  often  happened,  his  actual  specter 
might  have  stood  by  her  waking  couch.  To  all  this 
misery  of  the  mind  was  she  exposed  by  the  severity  of  one 
who,  while  he  pretended  to  dote  upon  her  slightest  glance, 
would  not  forego  one  act  of  poor  revenge,  though  the  issue 
was  to  render  her  miserable. 

All  this  flow  of  female  eloquence  was  accompanied  with 
the  usual  arguments  of  tears  and  sighs,  and  uttered  with  such 
tone  and  action  as  seemed  to  show  that  the  Queen's  resent- 
ment arose  neither  from  pride  nor  sullenness,  but  from 
feelings  hurt  at  finding  her  consequence  with  her  husband 
less  than  she  had  expected  to  possess. 

The  good  King  Richard  was  considerably  embarrassed. 
He  tried  in  vain  to  reason  with  one  whose  very  jealousy  of 
his  affection  rendered  her  incapable  of  listening  to  argu- 
ment, nor  could  he  bring  himself  to  use  the  restraint  of  law- 
ful authority  to  a  creature  so  beautiful  in  the  midst  of  her 
unreasonable  displeasure.  He  was,  therefore,  reduced  to  the 
defensive,  endeavored  gently  to  chide  her  suspicions  and 
soothe  her  displeasure,  and  recalled  to  her  mind  that  she 
need  not  look  back  upon  the  past  with  recollections  either 
of  remorse  or  supernatural  fear,  since  Sir  Kenneth  was  alive 
and  well,  and  had  been  bestowed  by  him  upon  the  great 
Arabian  physician,  who,  doubtless,  of  all  men,  knew  best 
how  to  keep  him  living.  But  this  seemed  the  unkindest  cut 
of  all,  and  the  Queen's  sorrow  was  renewed  at  the  idea  of  a 
Saracen — a  mediciner — obtaining  a  boon  for  which,  with 
bare  head  and  on  bended  knee,  she  had  petitioned  her  hus- 
band in  vain.     At  this  new  charge,  Eichard's  patience  be- 


208  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL S 

gan  rather  to  give  way,  and  lie  said,  in  a  serious  tone  of 
voice,  "  Berengaria,  the  physician  saved  my  life.  If  it  is  of 
value  in  your  eyes,  you  will  not  grudge  him  a  higher  recom- 
pense than  the  only  one  1  could  prevail  on  him  to  accept."' 

The  Queen  was  satisfied  she  had  urged  her  coquettish 
displeasure  to  the  verge  of  safety. 

"  My  Richard,"  she  said,  ''  why  brought  you  not  that  sage 
to  me,  that  England's  Queen  might  show  how  she  esteemed 
him  who  could  save  from  extinction  the  lamp  of  chivalry., 
the  glory  of  England,  and  the  light  of  poor  Berengaria's  life 
and  hope  ?  " 

In  a  word,  the  matrimonial  dispute  was  ended  ;  but,  that 
some  penalty  might  be  paid  to  justice,  both  King  and  Queen 
accorded  in  laying  the  whole  blame  on  the  agent  Necta- 
banus,  who  (the  Queen  being  by  this  time  well  weary  of  the 
poor  dwai'f  s  humor)  was,  with  his  royal  consort  Guenevra, 
sentenced  to  be  banished  from  the  court ;  and  the  unlucky 
dwarf  only  escaped  a  supplementary  whi^^ping,  from  the 
Queen's  assurances  that  he  had  already  sustained  personal 
chastisement.  It  was  decreed  farther  that,  as  an  envoy  was 
shortly  to  be  despatched  to  Saladin,  acquainting  him  with 
the  resolution  of  the  council  to  resume  hostilities  so  soon  as 
the  truce  was  ended,  and  as  Richard  proposed  to  send  a 
valuable  present  to  the  Soldan,  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
high  benefit  he  had  derived  from  the  services  of  El  Hakim, 
the  two  unhappy  creatures  should  be  added  to  it  as  curi- 
osities, which,  from  their  extremely  grotesque  appearance, 
and  the  shattered  state  of  their  intellect,  were  gifts  that 
might  well  pass  between  sovereign  and  sovereign. 

Richard  had  that  day  yet  another  female  encounter  to 
sustain  ;  but  he  advanced  to  it  with  comparative  indifPer- 
ence,  for  Edith,  though  beautiful,  and  highly  esteemed  by 
her  royal  relative — nay,  although  she  had  from  his  unjus't 
suspicions  actually  sustained  the  injury  of  which  Berengaria 
only  affected  to  complain — still  was  neither  Richard's  wife 
nor  mistress,  and  he  feared  her  reproaches  less,  although 
founded  in  reason,  than  those  of  the  Queen,  though  unjust 
and  fantastical.  Having  requested  to  speak  with  her  apart, 
he  was  ushered  into  her  apartment,  adjoining  that  of  the 
Queen,  whose  two  female  Coptish  slaves  remained  on  their 
knees  in  the  most  remote  corner  during  the  interview.  A 
thin  black  veil  extended  its  ample  folds  over  the  tall  and 
graceful  form  of  the  high-born  maiden,  and  she  Avore  not 
upon  her  person  any  female  ornament  of  what  kind  soever. 
She  arose  and  made  a  low  reverence  when  Richard  entered. 


THE  TALISMAN  209 

resumed  her  seat  at  his  command,  and,  when  he  sat  down 
beside  her,  waited,  without"  uttering  a  syllable,  until  he 
should  communicate  his  pleasure. 

Richard,  whose  custom,  it  was  to  be  familiar  with  Edith, 
as  their  relationship  authorized,  felt  this  reception  chilling, 
and  opened  the  conversation  with  some  embarrassment. 

"  Our  fair  cousin,"  he  at  length  said,  "  is  angry  with  us  ; 
and  we  own  that  strong  circumstances  have  induced  us, 
without  cause,  to  suspect  her  of  conduct  alien  to  what  we 
have  ever  known  in  her  course  of  life.  But  while  we  walk 
in  this  misty  valley  of  humanity,  men  will  mistake  shadows 
for  substances.  Can  my  fair  cousin  not  forgive  her  som'e- 
what  vehement  kinsman,  Richard  ?  " 

"  Who  can  refuse  forgiveness  to  Richard,"  answered  Edith, 
**  provided  Richard  can  obtain  pardon  of  the  king  f  " 

"■  Come,  my  kinswoman,"  replied  Coeur-de-Lion,  ''this  is 
all  too  solemn.  By  Our  Lady,  such  a  melancholy  counte- 
nance, and  this  ample  sable  veil,  might  make  men  think 
thou  wert  a  new-made  widow,  or  had  lost  a  betrothed  lover, 
at  least.  Cheer  up  ;  thou  hast  heard,  doubtless,  that  there 
is  no  real  cause  for  woe,  why  then  keep  up  the  form  of 
mourning  ?  " 

"  For  the  departed  honor  ot  Plantagenet — for  the  glory 
which  hath  left  my  father's  house." 

Richard  frowned.  *'  Departed  honor  !  glory  which  hath 
left  our  house  !  "  he  repeated,  angrily  ;  "  but  my  cousin  Edith 
is  privileged.  I  have  judged  her  too  hastily,  shehasthere- 
a  right  to  deem  of  me  too  harshly.  But  tell  me  at  least  in 
what  I  have  faulted." 

'*  Plantagenet  "  said  Edith,  "  should  have  either  pardoned 
an  offense  or  punished  it.  It  misbecomes  him  to  assign  free 
men.  Christians,  and  brave  knights  to  the  fetters  of  the  in- 
fidels. It  becomes  him  not  to  compromise  and  barter,  or  to 
grant  life  under  the  forfeiture  of  liberty.  To  have  doomed 
the  unfortunate  to  death  might  have  been  severity,  but  had 
a  show  of  justice  ;  to  condemn  him  to  slavery  and  exile  was 
barefaced  tyranny." 

"  I  see,  my  fair  cousin,"  said  Richard,  "  you  are  of  those 
pretty  ones  who  think  an  absent  lover  as  bad  as  none,  or  as  a 
dead  one.  Be  patient  ;  half  a  score  of  light  horsemen  may 
yet  follow  and  redeem  the  error,  if  thy  gallant  have  in  keeping 
any  secret  which  might  render  his  death  more  convenient 
than  his  banishment." 

"  Peace  with  thy  scurrile  jests,"  answered  Edith,  coloring 
deeply.  "  Think  rather  that,  for  the  indulgence  of  thy 
14 


210  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

mood,  thou  hast  lopped  from  tliis  great  enterprise  one  good, 
ly  limb,  deprived  the  Cross  of  one  of  its  most  brave  support- 
ers, and  placed  a  servant  of  the  true  God  in  the  hands  of  the 
heathen  ;  hast  given,  too,  to  minds  as  suspicious  as  thou 
hast  shown  thine  own  in  this  matter,  some  right  to  say  that 
Eichard  Coeur-de-Lion  banished  the  bravest  soldier  in  his 
camp,  lest  his  name  in  battle  might  match  his  own.'' 

"  I — I  !  "  exclaimed  Richard,  now  indeed  greatly  moved — 
*'aml  one  to  be  jealous  of  renown  ?  I  would  he  were  here 
to  profess  such  an  equality  !  I  would  waive  my  rank  and  my 
crown,  and  meet  him,  manlike,  in  the  lists,  that  it  might 
appear  whether  Eichard  Plantagenet  had  room  to  fear  or  to 
envy  the  prowess  of  mortal  man.  Come,  Edith,  thou  think'st 
not  as  thou  say'st.  Let  not  anger  or  grief  for  the  absence 
of  thy  lover  make  thee  unjust  to  thy  kinsman  who,  notwith- 
standing all  thy  tetchiness,  values  thy  good  report  as  high  as 
that  of  anyone  living." 

"  The  absence  of  my  lover  !  '"  said  the  Lady  Edith.  "  But 
yes,  he  may  be  well  termed  my  lover  who  hath  paid  so  dear 
for  the  title.  Unworthy  as  I  might  be  of  such  homage,  I 
was  to  hira  like  a  light,  leading  him  forward  in  the  noble 
path  of  chivalry  ;  but  that  1  forgot  my  rank,  or  that  he  pre- 
sumed beyond  his,  is  false,  were  a  king  to  speak  it." 

"  My  fair  cousin,"  said  Eichard,  "  do  not  put  words  in  my 
mouth  which  I  have  not  spoken.  I  said  not  you  have  graced 
this  man  beyond  the  favor  which  a  good  knight  may  earn, 
even  from  a  princess,  whatever  be  his  native  condition.  But, 
by  Our  Lady,  I  know  something  of  this  love-gear  :  it  begins 
with  mute  respect  and  distant  reverence,  but  when  oppor- 
tunities occur,  familiarity  increases,  and  so — But  it  skills  not 
talking  with  one  who  thinks  herself  wiser  than  all  the  world." 

"  My  kinsman's  counsels  I  willingly  listen  to  when  they 
are  such,"  said  Edith,  "as  convey  no  insult  to  my  rank  and 
character." 

"  Kings,  my  fair  cousin,  do  not  counsel,  but  rather  com- 
mand," said  Eichard. 

"Soldans  do  indeed  command,"  said  Edith,  "  but  it  is 
because  they  have  slaves  to  govern." 

"  Come,  you  might  learn  to  lay  aside  this  scorn  of  soldan- 
rie,  when  you  hold  so  high  of  a  Scot,"  said  the  King.  "  I 
hold  Saladin  to  be  truer  to  his  word  than  this  William  of 
Scotland,  who  must  needs  be  called  a  Lion  forsooth  he  hath 
foully  faulted,  towards  me,  in  failing  to  send  the  auxiliar}' 
aid  he  promised.  Let  me  tell  thee,  Edith,  thou  mayst  live 
to  prefer  a  true  Turk  to  a  false  Scot." 


THE  TALISMAN  211 

<i  j^o — never  !  "  answered  Edith,  "  not  slioiild  Richard 
himself  embrace  the  false  religion,  which  he  crossed  the  seas 
to  expel  from  Palestine." 

"  Thou  wilt  have  the  last  word/'  said  Richard,  "  and  thou 
shalt  have  it.  Even  think  of  me  what  thou  wilt,  pretty 
Edith.  I  shall  not  forget  that  we  are  near  and  dear 
cousins." 

So  saying,  he  took  his  leave  in  fair  fashion,  but  very  little 
satisfied  with  the  result  of  his  visit. 

It  was  the  fourth  day  after  Sir  Kenneth  had  been  dis- 
missed from  the  camp  ;  and  King  Richard  sat  in  his  jiavi- 
lion,  enjoying  an  evening  breeze  from  the  west,  which,  with 
unusual  coolness  on  her  wings,  seemed  breathed  from  Merry 
England  for  the  refreshment  of  her  adventurous  monarch, 
as  he  was  gradually  recovering  the  full  strength  which  was 
necessary  to  carry  on  his  gigantic  projects.  There  was  no 
one  with  him,  De  Vaux  having  been  sent  to  Ascalon  to  bring 
up  reinforcements  and  supplies  of  military  munition,  and 
most  of  his  other  attendants  being  occupied  in  different  de- 
partments, all  preparing  for  the  re-opening  of  hostilities,  and 
for  a  grand  preparatory  review  of  the  army  of  the  Crusaders, 
which  was  to  take  place  the  next  day.  The  King  sat  listen- 
ing to  the  busy  hum  among  the  soldiery,  the  clatter  from 
the  forges,  where  horseshoes  were  preparing,  and  from  the 
tents  of  the  armorers,  who  were  repairing  harness  ;  the  voice 
of  the  soldiers,  too,  as  they  passed  and  repassed,  was  loud  and 
cheerful,  carrying  with  its  very  tone  an  assurance  of  high 
and  excited  courage,  and  an  omen  of  approaching  victory. 
While  Richard's  ear  drank  in  these  sounds  with  delight,  and 
while  he  yielded  himself  to  the  visions  of  conquest  and  of 
glory  which  they  suggested,  an  equerry  told  him  that  a 
messenger  from  Saladin  waited  without. 

"  Admit  him  instantly,"  said  the  King,  "  and  with  due 
honor,  Josceline."^ 

The  English  knight  accordingly  introduced  a  person,  ap- 
parently of  no  higher  rank  than  a  Nubian  slave,  whose  ap- 
pearance was  nevertheless  highly  interesting.  He  was  of 
superb  stature  and  nobly  formed,  and  his  commanding  fea- 
tures, although  almost  jet-black,  showed  nothing  of  negro 
descent.  He  wore  over  his  coal-black  locks  a  milk-white 
turban,  and  over  his  shoulders  a  short  mantle  of  the  same 
color,  open  in  front  and  at  the  sleeves,  under  which  appeared 
a  doublet  of  dressed  leopard's  skin  reaching  within  a  hand- 
breadth  of  the  knee.     The  rest  of  his  muscular  limbs,  both 


212  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

legs  and  arms,  were  bare,  excepting  tliat  he  had  sandals  on 
his  feet,  and  wore  a  collar  and  bracelets  of  silver.  A  straight 
broadsword,  with  a  handle  of  boxwood,  and  a  sheath  covered 
with  snake-skin,  was  suspended  from  his  waist.  h\  his  right 
hand  he  held  a  short  javelin,  witli  a  broad,  bright,  steel 
head,  of  a  span  in  length,  and  in  his  left  he  led,  by  a  leash 
of  twisted  silk  and  gold,  a  large  and  noble  staghound. 

The  messenger  prostrated  himself,  at  the  same  time  par- 
tially uncovering  his  shoulders,  in  sign  of  humiliation,  and 
having  touched  the  earth  with  his  forehead,  arose  so  far  as 
to  rest  on  one  knee,  while  he  delivered  to  the  King  a  silken 
napkin,  inclosing  another  of  cloth  of  gold,  within  which  was 
a  letter  from  Saladin  in  the  original  Arabic,  with  a  transla- 
tion into  Norman-English,  which  may  be  modernized  thus  : 

"  Saladin,  King  of  Kings,  to  Melech-Eic,  the  Lion  of 
England.  Whereas,  we  are  informed  by  thy  last  message 
that  thou  hast  chosen  war  rather  than  peace,  and  our  enmity 
rather  than  our  friendship,  we  account  thee  as  one  blinded 
in  this  matter,  and  trust  shortly  to  convince  thee  of  thine 
error,  by  the  help  of  our  invincible  forces  of  the  thousand 
tribes,  when  Mohammed,  the  Prophet  of  God,  and  Allah, 
the  God  of  the  Prophet,  shall  judge  the  controversy  betwixt 
us.  In  what  remains,  we  make  noble  account  of  thee,  and 
of  the  gifts  which  thou  hast  sent  us,  and  of  the  two  dwarfs, 
singular  in  their  deformity  as  Ysop,  and  mirthful  as  the  lute 
of  Isaack.  And  in  requital  of  these  tokens  from  the  treas- 
ure-house of  thy  bounty,  behold  we  have  sent  thee  a  Nubian 
slave,  named  Zohauk,  of  whom  judge  not  by  his  complexion, 
according  to  the  foolish  ones  of  the  earth,  in  respect  the 
dark-rinded  fruit  hath  the  most  exquisite  flavor.  Know 
that  he  is  strong  to  execute  the  will  of  his  master,  as  Rustan 
of  Zablestan  ;  also  he  is  wise  to  give  counsel  when  thou  shalt 
learn  to  hold  communication  with  him,  for  the  lord  of  speech 
hath  been  stricken  with  silence  betwixt  the  ivory  walls  of  his 
palace.  We  commend  him  to  thy  care,  hoping  the  hour 
may  not  be  distant  when  he  may  render  thee  good  service. 
And  herewith  we  bid  thee  farewell ;  trusting  that  our  most 
holy  Prophet  may  yet  call  thee  to  a  sight  of  the  truth,  fail- 
ing which  illumination,  our  desire  is,  for  the  speedy  restora- 
tion of  thy  royal  health,  that  Allah  may  judge  between  thee 
and  us  in  a  plain  field  of  battle." 

And  the  missive  was  sanctioned  by  the  signature  and  seal 
of  the  Sold  an. 

Richard  surveyed  the  Nubian  in  silence  as  he  stood  before 


THE  TALISMAN  818 

him,  his  looks  bent  upon  tlie  ground,  his  arms  folded  on  his 
bosom,  with  tlie  appearance  of  a  black  marble  statue  of  the 
most  exquisite  workmanship,  waiting  life  from  the  touch  of 
a  Prometheus.  The  King  of  England,  who,  as  it  was  em- 
phatically said  of  his  successor  Henry  the  Eighth,  loved  to 
look  upon  A  MAN",  was  well  pleased  with  the  thewes,  sinews, 
and  symmetry,  of  him  whom  he  now  surveyed,  and  questioned 
him  in  the  lingua  franca,  "  Art  thou  a  pagan  t" 

The  slave  sliook  his  head,  and  raising  his  linger  to  his  brow, 
crossed  himself  in  token  of  his  Christianity,  then  resumed 
his  posture  of  motionless  humility. 

"  A  Nubian  Christian  doubtless,"  said  Richard,  and  muti- 
lated of  the  organ  of  speech  by  those  heathen  dogs  ?  " 

The  mute  again  slowly  shook  his  head,  in  token  of  negative, 
pointed  with  his  forefinger  to  Heaven,  and  then  laid  it  upon 
his  own  lips. 

*'I  understand  thee,*'  said  Eichard  ;  "thou  dost  suffer 
under  the  infliction  of  God,  not  by  the  cruelty  of  man. 
Canst  thou  clean  an  armor  and  belt,  and  buckle  it  in  time  of 
need  ?  " 

The  mute  nodded,  and  stepping  towards  the  coat  of  mail, 
which  hung,  with  the  shield  and  helmet  of  the  chivalrous 
monarch,  upon  the  pillar  of  the  tent,  he  handled  it  with  such 
nicety  of  address  as  sufficiently  to  show  that  he  fully  under- 
stood the  business  of  the  armor-bearer. 

"  Thou  art  an  apt,  and  will  doubtless  be  a  useful  knave  ; 
thou  shalt  wait  in  my  chamber,  and  on  my  person,"  said  the 
King,  "  to  show  how  much  I  value  the  gift  of  the  royal  Sol- 
dan.  H  thou  hast  no  tongue,  it  follows  thou  canst  carry 
no  tales,  neither  provoke  me  to  be  sudden  by  any  unfit 
reply." 

The  Nubian  again  prostrated  himself  until  his  brow 
touched  the  earth,  then  stood  erect,  at  some  paces  distant, 
as  waiting  for  his  new  master's  commands. 

"Nay,  thou  shalt  commence  thy  office  presently,"  said 
Richard,  "  for  I  see  a  speck  of  rust  darkening  on  that  shield  ; 
and  when  I  shake  it  in  the  face  of  Saladin,  it  should  be  bright 
and  unsullied  as  theSoldan's  honor  and  mine  own." 

A  horn  was  winded  without,and  presently  Sir  Henry  Neville 
entered  with  a  packet  of  despatches.  "  From  England,  my 
lord,"  he  said,  as  he  delivered  them. 

"From  England — our  own  England  !"  repeated  Eichard, 
in  a  tone  of  melancholy  enthusiasm.  "  Alas  !  they  little 
think  how  hard  their  sovereign  has  been  beset  by  sickness 
and  sorrow,   faint  friends    and  forward  enemies."    Then 


214  WAVERLEF  N0VI:LS 

opening  the  despatches,  he  said  hastily,  "  Ha  !  this  comes 
from  no  peaceful  land  :  they  too  have  their  feuds.  Neville, 
begone ;  I  must  peruse  these  tidings  alone  and  at  lei- 
sure." 

Neville  withdrew  accordingly,  and  Richard  was  soon  ab- 
sorbed in  the  melancholy  details  which  had  been  conveyed 
to  him  from  England,  concerning  the  factions  that  were  tear- 
ing to  pieces  his  native  dominions  :  the  disunion  of  his 
brothers,  John  and  Geoffrey,  and  the  quarrels  of  both  with 
the  High  Judiciary  Longchamp,  Bishop  of  Ely  ;  the  oppres- 
sions practised  by  the  nobles  upon  the  peasantry,  and  rebellion 
of  the  latter  against  their  masters,  which  had  produced 
everywhere  scenes  of  discord,  and  in  some  instances  the  effu- 
sion of  blood.  Details  of  incidents  mortifying  to  his  pride, 
and  derogatory  from  his  authority,  were  intermingled  with 
the  earnest  advice  of  his  wisest  and  most  attached  counselors, 
that  he  should  presently  return  to  England,  as  his  presence 
offered  the  only  hope  of  saving  the  kingdom  from  all  the  hor- 
rors of  civil  discord,  of  which  France  and  Scotland  were  likely 
to  avail  themselves.  Filled  with  the  most  painful  anxiety, 
Richard  read,  and  again  read,  the  ill-omened  letters,  com- 
pared the  intelligence  which  some  of  them  contained  with 
the  same  facts  as  differently  stated  in  others,  and  soon  be- 
came totally  insensible  to  whatever  was  passing  around  him, 
although  seated,  for  the  sake  of  coolness,  close  to  the  en- 
trance of  his  tent,  and  having  the  curtains  withdrawn,  so 
that  he  could  see  and  be  seen  by  the  guards  and  others 
who  were  stationed  without. 

Deeper  in  the  shadow  of  the  pavilion,  and  busied  with  the 
task  his  new  master  had  imposed,  sat  the  Nubian  slave  with 
his  back  rather  turned  towards  the  King.  He  had  finished 
adjusting  and  cleaning  the  hauberk  and  brigandine,  and  was 
now  busily  employed  on  a  broad  pavesse,  or  buckler,  of  un- 
usual size,  and  covered  with  steel-plating,  which  Richard 
often  used  in  reconnoitering,  or  actually  storming  fortified 
places,  as  a  more  effectual  protection  against  missile  weapons 
than  the  narrow  triangular  shield  used  on  horseback.  This 
pavesse  bore  neither  the  royal  lions  of  England  nor  any  other 
device,  to  attract  the  observation  of  the  defenders  of  the 
walls  against  which  it  was  advanced  ;  the  care,  therefore,  of 
the  armorer  was  addressed  to  causing  its  surface  to_  shine  as 
bright  as  crystal,  in  which  he  seemed  to  be  peculiarly  suc- 
cessful. Beyond  the  Nubian,  and  scarce  visible  from  with- 
out, lay  the  large  dog,  which  might  be  termed  his  brother 
slave,  and  which,  as  if  he  felt  awed  by  being  transferred  to  a 


THE  TALISMAN  216 

royal  owner,  was  couched  close  to  the  side  of  the  mute^  with 
head  and  ears  on  the  ground,  and  his  limbs  and  tail  drawn 
close  around  and  under  him. 

While  the  monarch  and  his  new  attendant  were  thus  oc- 
cupied, another  actor  crept  upon  the  scene,  and  mingled 
among  the  group  of  English  yeomen,  about  a  score  of  whom, 
respecting  the  unusually  pensive  posture  and  close  occupa- 
tion of  their  sovereign,  were,  contrary  to  their  wont,  keep- 
ing a  silent  guard  in  front  of  his  tent.  It  was  not,  however, 
more  vigilant  than  usual.  Some  were  playing  at  games  of 
hazard  with  a  small  pebbles,  others  spoke  together  in 
whispers  of  the  approaching  day  of  battle,  and  several  lay 
asleep,  their  bulky  limbs  folded  in  their  green  mantles. 

Amid  these  careless  warders  glided  the  puny  form  of  a  little 
old  Turk,  poorly  dressed  like  a  marabout  or  santon  of  the 
desert — a  sort  of  enthusiasts,  who  sometimes  ventured  into 
the  camp  of  the  Crusaders,  though  treated  always  with  con- 
tumely, and  often  with  violence.  Indeed,  the  luxury  and 
profligate  indulgence  of  the  Christian  leaders  had  occasioned 
a  motley  concourse  in  their  tents  of  musicians,  courtezans, 
Jewish  merchants,  Copts,  Turks,  and  all  the  varied  refuse  of 
the  Eastern  nations  ;  so  that  the  caftan  and  turban,  though 
to  drive  both  from  the  Holy  Land  was  the  professed  object  of 
the  expedition,  were  nevertheless  neither  an  uncommon  nor 
an  alarming  sight  in  the  camp  of  the  Crusaders.  When, 
however,  the  little  insignificant  figure  we  have  described  ap- 
proached so  nigh  as  to  receive  some  interruption  from  the 
warders,  he  dashed  his  dusky  green  turban  from  his  head^ 
showed  that  his  beard,  and  eyebrows  were  shaved  like  those 
of  a  jn'ofessed  buffoon,  and  that  the  expression  of  his  fantas- 
tic and  writhen  features,  as  well  as  of  his  little  black  eyes, 
which  glittered  like  jet,  was  that  of  a  crazed  imagina- 
tion. 

"  Dance,  marabout,"  cried  the  soldiers,  acquainted  with 
the  manners  of  these  wandering  enthusiasts — "'dance,  or  we 
will  scourge  thee  with  our  bow-strings,  till  thou  spin  as  never 
top  did  under  schoolboy's  lash."  Thus  shouted  the  reckless 
warders,  as  much  delighted  at  having  a  subject  to  tease  as  a 
child  when  he  catches  a  butterfly,  or  a  schoolboy  upon  dis- 
covering a  bird's  nest. 

The  marabout,  as  if  happy  to  do  their  behests,  bounded 
from  the  earth  and  spun  his  giddy  round  before  them  with 
singular  agility,  which,  when  contrasted  with  his  slight  and 
wasted  figure,  and  diminutive  appearance,  made  him  re- 
semble a  withered  leaf  twirled  round  and  round  at  the  pleas- 


216  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS. 

ure  of  the  winter's  breeze.  His  single  lock  of  hair  streamed 
upwards  from  his  bald  and  shaven  head,  as  if  some  genie 
upheld  him  by  it  ;  and  indeed  it  seemed  as  if  supernatural 
art  were  necessary  to  the  execution  of  the  wild  whirling 
dance,  in  which  scarce  the  tiptoe  of  the  performer  was  seen 
to  touch  the  ground.  Amid  the  vagaries  of  his  performance, 
he  flew  here  and  there,  from  one  spot  to  another,  still  ap- 
proaching, however,  though  almost  imperceptibly,  to  the 
entrance  of  tlie  royal  tent ;  so  that,  when  at  length  he  sunk 
exhausted  on  the  earth,  after  two  or  three  bounds  still  higher 
than  those  which  he  had  yet  executed,  he  was  not  above 
thirty  yards  from  the  King's  person. 

''  Give  him  water,"  said  one  yeoman  :  "^  they  always  crave  a 
drink  after  their  merry-go-round." 

"^  Aha,  water  say'st  thou,  Long  Allen?"  exclaimed  an- 
other archer,  with  a  most  scornful  emphasis  on  the  despised 
element;  ''how  wouldst  like  such  beverage  thyself,  after 
such  a  morrice-dancing  ?" 

"  The  devil  a  water-di'op  he  gets  here,"  said  a  third.  "  We 
will  teach  the  light-footed  old  infidel  to  be  a  good  Christian, 
and  drink  wine  of  Cyprus." 

"Ay — ay,"  said  a  fourth;  ''and  in  case  he  be  restive, 
fetch  thou  Dick  Hunter's  horn,  that  he  drenches  his  mare 
withal." 

A  circle  was  instantly  formed  around  the  prostrate  and 
exhausted  dervise,  and  while  one  tall  yeoman  raised  his  feeble 
form  from  the  ground,  another  presented  to  him  a  huge  flagon 
of  wine.  Incapable  of  speech,  the  old  man  shook  his  head 
and  waved  away  from  him  with  his  hand  the  liquor  forbid- 
den by  the  Prophet ;  but  his  tormentors  were  not,  thus  to  be 
appeased. 

"  The  horn — the  horn  ! "  exclaimed  one.  "  Little  differ- 
ence between  a  Turk  and  a  Turkish  horse,  and  we  will  use 
him  conforming." 

"  By  St.  George,  you  will  choke  him  !  "  said  Long  Allen  ; 
"  and,  besides,  it  is  a  sin  to  throw  away  upon  a  heathen  dog 
as  much  wine  as  would  serve  a  good  Christian  for  a  treble 
night-cap." 

"  Thou  knows't  not  the  nature  of  these  Turks  and  pagans, 
Long  Allen,"  replied  Henry  Woodstall ;  "  I  tell  thee,  man, 
that  this  flagon  of  Cyprus  will  set  his  brains  a-spinning,  just 
in  the  opposite  direction  that  they  went  whirling  in  the  danc- 
ing, and  so  bring  him,  as  it  were,  to  himself  again.  Choke  ! 
he  will  no  more  choke  on  it  than  Ben's  black  bitch  on  the 
pound  of  butter." 


THE  TALISMAN  217 

"  And  for  grudging  it/'  said  Tomalin  Blacklees,  "why 
ihould'st  thou  grudge  the  poor  payniiu  devil  a  drop  of  drink 
oil  earth,  since  thou  know'st  he  is  not  to  have  a  drop  to  cool 
the  tip  of  his  tongue  through  a  long  eternity  ?  " 

"That  were  hard  laws,  look  ye,''  said  Long  Allen,  "  only 
for  being  a  Turk,  as  his  father  was  before  him.  Had  he 
been  Christian  turned  heathen,  I  grant  you  the  hottest  corner 
had  been  good  winter  quarters  for  him." 

"  Hold  thy  peace.  Long  Allen,"  said  Henry  Woodstall  ; 
"  I  tell  thee  that  ongue  of  thine  is  not  the  shortest  limb 
about  thee,  and  1  prophesy  that  it  will  bring  thee  into  dis- 
grace with  Father  Francis,  as  once  about  the  black-eyed 
Syrian  wench.  But  here  comes  the  horn.  Be  active  a  bit, 
man,  wilt  thou,  and  just  force  open  his  teeth  with  the  haft 
of  thy  dungeon-dagger  ?" 

"Hold — hold,  he  is  comfortable,"  said  Tomalin;  "see — 
see,  he  signs  for  the  goblet  ;  give  him  room,  boys.  Oop  sey 
es,  quoth  the  Dutchman  :  down  it  goes  like  lamb's-wool  ! 
Nay,  they  are  true  topers  when  once  they  begin  ;  your  Turk 
never  coughs  in  his  cup,  or  stints  in  his  liquoring." 

In  f?ct,  the  dervise,  or  whatever  he  was,  drank,  or  at  least 
seemed  to  drink,  the  large  flagon  to  the  very  bottom  at  a 
single  pull ;  and  when  lie  took  it  from  his  lips,  after  the 
whole  contents  were  exhausted,  only  uttered,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  the  words  "Allah  kerim,"  or  God  is  merciful.  There 
was  a  laugh  among  the  yeomen  who  witnessed  this  pottle- 
deep  potation,  so  obstreperous  as  to  arouse  and  disturb  the 
King,  who,  raising  his  finger,  said,  angrily,  "How,  knaves, 
no  respect,  no  observance  ?  " 

All  were  at  once  hushed  into  silence,  well  acquainted  with 
the  temper  of  Richard,  which  at  some  times  admitted  of 
much  military  familiarity,  and  at  others  exacted  the  most 
precise  respect,  although  the  latter  humor  was  of  much  more 
rare  occurrence.  Hastening  to  a  more  reverent  distance  from 
the  royal  person,  they  attempted  to  drag  along  with  them 
the  marabout,  who,  exhausted  apparently  by  previous  fatigue, 
or  overpowered  by  the  potent  draught  he  had  just  swalloAved, 
resisted  being  moved  from  the  spot,  both  with  struggles  and 
groans. 

"  Leave  him  still,  ye  fools,"  whispered  Long  Allen  to  his 
mates  ;  "  by  St.  Christopher,  you  will  make  our  Dickon  go 
beside  himself,  and  we  shall  have  his  dagger  presently  fly  at 
our  costards.  Leave  him  alone,  in  less  than  a  minute  he 
will  sleep  like  a  dormouse." 

At  the  same  moment,  the  monarch  darted  another  impa- 


218  WA VEELEY  NOVELS 

tient  glance  to  the  spot,  and  all  retreated  in  haste,  leaving 
the  dervise  on  the  ground,  unable  as  it  seemed,  to  stir  a 
single  limb  or  joint  of  his  body.  In  a  moment  afterward, 
all  was  as  still  and  quiet  as  it  had  been  before  the  intrusion. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

And  wither'd  murder, 
Alarum'd  by  his  sentinel,  tiie  wolf, 
Whose  howl's  his  watch,  thus  with  his  stealthy  pace. 
With  Tarquin's  ravishing  strides,  towards  his  design 
Moves  like  a  ghost. 

Macbeth. 

'oil  the  space  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  or  longer,  after  the 
icident  related,  all  remained  perfectly  quiet  in  the  front  of 
le  royal  habitation.  The  King  read,  and  nmsed  in  the 
atrance  of  his  pavilion  ;  behind,  and  with  his  back  turned 
)  the  same  entrance,  the  Nubian  slave  still  burnished  the 
mple  pavesse  ;  in  front  of  all,  at  an  hundred  paces  distant, 
le  yeomen  of  the  guard  stood,  sat,  or  lay  extended  on  the 
rass,  attentive  to  their  own  sports,  but  pursuing  them  in 
lence,  while  on  the  esplanade  betwixt  them  and  the  front 
:  the  tent  lay,  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  a  bundle 
'  rags,  tlie  senseless  form  of  the  marabout. 

But  the  Nubian  had  the  advantage  of  a  mirror,  from  the 
'illiant  reflection  which  the  surface  of  the  highly-polished 
i.ield  now  afforded,  by  means  of  which  he  beheld,  to  his 
larm  and  surprise,  that  the  marabout  raised  his  head  gently 
:om  the  ground,  so  as  to  survey  all  around  him,  moving 
nth  a  well-adjusted  precaution,  which  seemed  entirely  in- 
(-nsistent  with  a  state  of  ebriety.  He  couched  his  head 
istantly,  as  if  satisfied  he  was  unobserved,  and  began,  with 
le  slightest  possible  appearance  of  voluntary  effort,  to  drag 
Imself,  as  if  by  chance,  ever  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  King, 
It  stopping,  and  remaining  fixed  at  intervals,  like  the  spider, 
\iich,  moving  towards  her  object,  collapses  into  apparent  life- 
Lsness  when  she  thinks  she  is  the  subject  of  observation, 
''-lis  species  of  movement  appeared  suspicious  to  the  Ethio- 
{in,  who,  on  his  part,  prepared  himself,  as  quietly  as  possible, 
t interfere,  the  instant  that  interference  should  seem  to  be 
rcessary. 

The  marabout  meanwhile  glided  on  gradually  and  imper- 

cotibly,  serpent-like,  or  rather  snail-like,  till  he  was  about 

ti  yards'  distance  from  Richard's  person,  when,  starting  on 

bi  feet,  he  sprung  forward  with  the  bound  of  a  tiger,  stood 

219 


220  WAVERLEY  NOVELS  J 

at  the  King's  back  in  less  than  an  instant,  and  brandished  ■ 
aloft  the  cangiar,  or  poniard,  which   he  had  hidden  in  his 
sleeve.     Not  the  presence   of   his   whole  army  could  have  i 
saved  their  heroic  monarch  ;  but  the  motions  of  the  Nubian  |l 
had  been  as  well  calculated  as  those  of  the  enthusiast,  and  | 
ere  the  latter  could  strike,  the  former  caught  his  uplifted 
arm.     Turning  his  fanatical  wrath  upon  what  thus  unex- 
pectedly interposed  betwixt  him  and  his  object,  the  Charegite, 
for  such  w^as  the  seeming  marabout,  dealt  the  Nubian  a  blow 
with  the  dagger,  which,  however,  only  grazed  his  arm,  while 
the  far  superior  strength  of  the  Ethiopian  easily  dashed  him 
to  the  ground.     Aware  of  what  had  passed,   Richard  had 
now  arisen,    and,    with   little    more    of  surprise,  anger,  or 
interest  of  any  kind  in  his   countenance   than  an  ordinary 
man  would  show  in  brushing  off  and  crushing  an  intrusive 
wasp,  caught  up  the  stool  on  which  he  had  been  sitting,  and 
exclaiming  only,  '  Ha,  dog  ! '  dashed  almost  to  pieces  the 
skull  of  the  assassin,  who  uttered  twice,  once  in  a  loud  and 
once  in  a  broken  tone,  the  words  'Allah  acMar'  {God  is 
victorious)  and  expired  at  the  King's  feet. 

"  Ye  are  careful  warders,"  said  Richard  to  his  archers,  in  f, 
a  tone  of  scornful  reproach,    as,   aroused  by  the  bustle  of 
what  had  passed,  in  terror  and  tumult  they  now   rushed  't 
into  his  tent — "  watchful  sentinels  ye  are,  to  leave  me  to  do   ' 
such  hangman's  work  with  my  own  hand.     Be  silent  all  of 
you,  and  cease  your  senseless  clamor  ;  saw  ye  never  a  dead 
Turk  before  ?     Here — cast  that  carrion  out  of  the  camp, 
strike  the  head  from  the  trunk,   and  stick  it  on  a  lance, 
taking  care  to  turn  the  face  to  Mecca,  that  he  may  the  easier 
tell  the  foul  impostor,  on  whose  inspiration  he  came  hither, 
how  he  has  sped  on  his  errand.     For  thee,  my  swart  and 

silent   friend "  he    added,    turning    to   the   Ethiopian. 

"  But  how's  this  ?  thou  art  wounded  ;  and  with  a  poisoned 
weapon,  I  warrant  me,  for  by  force  of  stab  so  weak  an  animal 
as  that  could  scarce  hope  to  do  more  than  raze  the  lion's 
hide.  Suck  the  poison  from  his  wound  one  of  you  :  the 
venom  is  harmless  on  the  lips,  though  fatal  when  it  mingles 
with  the  blood." 

The  yeomen  looked  on  each  other  confusedly  and  with 
hesitation,  the  apprehension  of  so  strange  a  danger  prevailing 
with  those  who  feared  no  other.  j. , 

"  How   now,    sirrahs,"   continued   the   King,    ''  are  yott  J. 
dainty-lipped,  or  do  you  fear  death,  that  you  dally  thus  ?"    '"' 

"  Not  the  death  of  a  man,"  said  Long  Allen,  to  whom  the  J*; 
King  looked  as  he  spoke  ;  ' '  but  methinks  I  would  not  di* 


THE  TALISMAN  221 

like  a  poisoned  rat  for  the  sake  of  a  black  chattel  there,  that 
is  bought  and  sold  in  a  market  like  a  Martlemas  ox." 

"  His  Grace  speaks  to  men  of  sucking  poison,"  muttered 
another  yeoman,  "as  if  he  said,  'Go  to,  swallow  a  goose- 
berry M" 

"  Nay,"  said  Eichard,  "  I  never  bade  man  do  that  which 
[  would  not  do  myself." 

And,  without  farther  ceremony,  and  in  spite  of  the  general 
expostulations  of  those  around,  and  tiie  respectful  opposition 
Df  the  Nubian  himself,  the  King  of  England  applied  his  lips 
:o  the  wound  of  the  black  slave,  treating  with  ridicule  all 
-emonstrances  and  overpowering  all  resistance.  He  had  no 
!ooner  intermitted  his  singular  occupation  than  the  Nubian 
;tarted  from  him,  and,  casting  a  scarl  over  his  arm,  intimated 
)y  gestures,  as  firm  in  purpose  as^  they  were  respectful  in 
nanner,  his  determination  not  to 'permit  the  monarch  to 
enew  so  degrading  an  employment. 

Long  Allen  also  interposed,  saying,  that  "  If  itwereneces- 
ary  to  prevent  the  King  engaging  again  in  a  treatment  of 
his  kind,  his  own  lips,  tongue,  and  teeth  wereat  the  service 
f  the  negro  (as  he  called  the  Ethiopian),  and  that  he  would 
at  him  up  bodily,  rather  than  King  Richard's  mouth  should 
gain  approach  him." 

'  Neville,  who  entered  with  other  officers,  added  his  remon- 
Tances. 

"  Nay — nay,  make  not  a  needless  halloo  about  a  hart  that 
le  hounds  have  lost,  or  a  danger  when  it  is  over,"  said  the 

ing  ;  "  the  wound  will  be  a  trifle,  for  the  blood  is  scarce 
-awn — an  angry  cat  had  dealt  a  deeper  scratch  ;  and  for  me, 
have  but  to  take  a  drachm  of  orvietan  by  way  of  precau- 
ion,  though  it  is  needless." 

Thus  spoke  Richard,  a  little  ashamed,  perhaps,  of  his  own 
ondescension,  though  sanctioned  both  by  humanity  and 
jatitude.  But  when  Neville  continued  to  make  r'emon- 
frances  on  the  peril  to  his  royal  person,  the  King  imposed 
tience  on  him. 

'"  Peace,  I  prithee,  make  no  more  of  it ;  I  did  it  but  to 
&:ow  these  ignorant  prejudiced  knaves  how  they  might  help 
eoh  other  when  these  cowardly  caitiffs  come  against  us  with 
srbacanes  and  poisoned  shafts.  But,"  he  added,  "  take  thee 
tis  Nubian  to  thy  quarters,  Neville,  I  have  changed  my 
rnd  touching  him  ;  let  him  be  well  cared  for.  But,  hark 
i! thine  ear — see  that  he  escapes  thee  not ;  there  is  more  in 
til  than  seems.  Let  him  have  all  liberty,  so  that  he  leave 
nt  the  camp.     And  you.  ye  beef-devouring,  wine-swilling 


222  ^AVERLEY  NOVELS 

English  mastiffs,  get  ye  to  your  guard  again,  and  be  snre  yoti 
keep  it  more  warily.  Think  not  you  are  now  in  your  own 
land  of  fair  play,  where  men  speak  before  they  strike,  and 
shake  hands  ere  they  cut  throats.  Danger  in  our  land  walks 
openly,  and  with  his  blade  drawn,  and  defies  the  foe  whom 
he  means  to  assault ;  but  here,  he  challenges  you  with  a  silL- 
glove  instead  of  a  steel  gauntlet,  cuts  your  throat  with  th( 
feather  of  a  turtle-dove,  stabs  you  with  the  tongue  of  i 
priest's  brooch,  or  throttles  you  with  the  lace  of  my  lady'i 
boddice.  Go  to,  keep  your  eyes  open  and  your  months  shut 
dri.  k  less  and  look  sharper  about  you  ;  or  I  will  place  youi 
huge  stomachs  on  such  short  allowance  as  would  pinch  tlu 
stomach  of  a  patient  Scottish  man. 

The  yeomen,  abashed  and  mortified,  withdrew  to  thei] 
post,  and  Neville  was  beginniiig  to  remonstrate  with  hif 
master  upon  the  risk  of  passing  over  thus  slightly  thei 
negligence  upon  their  duty,  and  the  propriety  of  an  exami^l 
in  a  case  so  peculiarly  aggravated  as  the  permitting  one  S( 
suspicious  as  the  marabout  to  approach  within  dagger's  lengtl 
of  his  person,  when  Richard  interrupted  him  with,  "  8peal 
not  of  it,  Neville  ;  wouldst  thou  have  me  avenge  a  petty  risi 
to  myself  more  severely  than  the  loss  of  England's  banner 
It  has  been  stolen — stolen  by  a  thief,  or  delivered  up  by  i 
traitor,  and  no  blood  has  been  shed  for  it.  My  sable  friend 
thou  art  an  expounder  of  mysteries,  saith  the  illustriou! 
Soldan  ;  now  would  I  give  thee  thine  own  weight  in  gold,  if 
by  raising  one  still  blacker  than  thyself,  or  by  what  othei 
means  thou  wilt,  thou  couldst  show  me  the  thief  who  die 
mine  honor  that  wrong.     What  say'st  thou — ha  ! " 

The  mute  seemed  desirous  to  sj^eak,  but  uttered  only  thai 
imperfect  sound  proper  to  his  melancholy  condition,  thei 
folded  his  arms,  looked  on  the  King  with  an  eye  of  intelli- 
gence, and  nodded  in  answer  to  his  question. 

"How! "said  Eichard,  with  joyful  impatience.  "Will 
thou  undertake  to  make  discovery  in  this  matter  ?" 

The  Nubian  slave  repeated  the  same  motion. 

"But  how  shall  we  understand  each  other? "said  fch( 
King.     "  Canst  thou  write,  good  fellow  ?  " 

The  slave  again  nodded  in  assent. 

"  Give  him  writing-tools,"  said  the  King.  "  They  wen 
readier  in  my  father's  tent  than  mine,  butthey  besomewher( 
about  if  this  scorching  climate  have  not  dried  up  the  ink 
Why,  this  fellow  is  a  jewel — a  black  diamond,  Neville 

"  So  please  you,  my  liege,"  said  Neville,  "  if  I  miglit  speaJ 
my  poor  mind,  it  were  ill  dealing  in  this  ware.     This  mw 


ieelar 


THE  TALISMAN  223 

mu  :t  be  a  wizard,  and  wizards  deal  with  the  Enemy,  who 
hat^^most  interest  to  sow  tares  among  the  wheat,  and  bring 
dis-ension  into  our  councils,  and " 

"  Peace.  Neville,"  said  Richard.  "  Halloo  toj'our  North- 
ern hound  when  he  is  close  on  the  haunch  of  the  deer,  and 
hcpe  to  recall  him,  but  seek  not  to  stop  Plantagenet  when 
he  hath  hope  to  retrieve  his  honor. "' 

The  slave,  who  during  this  discussion  had  been  writing,  in 
whicli  art  he  seemed  skilful,  now  arose,  and  pressing  what 
he  had  written  to  his  brow,  prostrated  himself  as  usual,  ere 
he  delivered  it  into  the  King's  hands.  The  scroll  was  in 
French,  although  their  intercourse  had  hitherto  been  con- 
ducted by  Richard  in  the  lingua  franca. 

"  To  Richard,  the  conquering  and  invincible  King  of  Eng- 
land, this  from  the  humblest  of  his  slaves.  Mysteries  are  tlie 
\ealed  caskets  of  Heaven,  but  wisdom  may  devise  means  to 
)pen  the  lock.  AVere  your  slave  stationed  where  the  leaders 
)f  the  Christian  host  were  made  to  pass  before  him  in  order, 
ioubt  nothing  that,  if  he  who  did  the  injury  whereof  my 
King  complains  shall  be  among  the  number,  he  may  be  made 
manifest  in  his  iniquity,  though  it  be  hidden  under  seven 
peils." 

'Now,  by  St.  George  !"  said  King  Richard,  -'thou  hast 
spoken  most  opportunely.  Neville,  thou  know'stthat,  when 
we  muster  our  troops  to-morrow,  the  princes  have  agreed  tliat, 
to  expiate  the  affront  offered  to  England  in  tlie  theft  of  her 
ijuuner,  the  leaders  should  pass  our  new  standard  as  it  floats 
ju  St.  George's  Mount,  and  salute  it  with  formal  regard. 
Bi'lieve  me,  the  secret  traitor  will  not  dare  to  absent  himself 
'roni  an  expurgation  so  solemn,  lest  his  very  absence  should 
oe  nuitter  of  suspicion.  There  will  we  place  our  sable  man 
Df  counsel,  and,  if  his  art  can  detect  the  villain,  leave  me  fco 
deal  with  him." 

"  My  liege,"  said  Neville,  with  the  frankness  of  an  English 
Daron,  "■  beware  what  work  you  begin.  Here  is  the  concord 
)f  our  holy  league  unexpectedly  renewed  ;  will  you,  upon 
uich  suspicion  as  a  negro  slave  can  instil,  tear  open  wounds 
,;o  lately  closed,  or  will  you  use  the  solemn  procession,  adopted 
"or  the  reparation  of  your  honor,  and  establishment  of  unan- 
niity  amongst  the  discording  princes,  as  the  means  of  again 
indingout  new  cause  of  offence,  or  reviving  ancient  quarrels  ? 
[t  were  scarce  too  strong  to  say,  this  were  a  breach  of  the 
leelaration  your  Grace  made  to  the  assembled  council  of  the 
Drusade." 


224  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

''Neville,"  said  the  King,  sternly  interrupting  him,  "  thy 
zeal  makes  thee  presninptuons  and  unmannerly.  Never  did 
I  promise  to  abstain  from  taking  whatever  means  were  most 
promisiiig  to  discover  the  infamous  author  of  the  attack  on 
my  honor.  Ere  I  had  done  so,  I  would  have  renounced  my 
kingdom — my  life.  All  my  declarations  were  under  this 
necessary  and  absolute  qualification  ;  only,  if  Austria  had 
stepped  forth  and  owned  the  injury  like  a  man,  I  proffered, 
for  the  sake  of  Christendom,  to  have  forgiven  him." 

"  But,"  continued  the  baron,  anxiously,  "  what  hope  that 
this  juggling  slave  of  Saladin  will  not  palter  with  your 
Grace?" 

"  Peace,  Neville,"  said  the  King  ;  "  thou  think'st  thyself 
mighty  wise  and  art  but  a  fool.  Mind  thou  my  charge  touch- 
ing this  fellow  ;  there  is  more  in  him  tlian  thy  Westmore- 
land wit  can  fathom.  And  thou,  swart  and  silent,  prepare 
to  perform  the  feat  thou  hast  promised,  and,  by  the  word  of 
a  king,  thou  shalt  choose  thine  own  recompense.  Lo,  he 
writes  again." 

The  mute  accordingly  wrote  and  delivered  to  the  King, 
with  the  same  form  as  before  another  slip  of  paper,  contain- 
ing these  words  :  "  The  will  of  the  King  is  the  law  to  his 
slave  ;  nor  doth  it  become  him  to  ask  guerdon  for  discharge 
of  his  devoir." 

"Ouerdon  and  devoir  !"  said  the  King,  interrupting  him- 
self as  he  read,  and  speaking  to  Neville  in  the  English  tongue, 
with  some  emphasis  on  the  words.  "  These  Eastern  people 
will  profit  by  the  Crusaders  :  they  are  acquiring  the  language 
of  chivalry.  And  see,  Neville,  how  discomposed  that  fellow 
looks  ;  were  it  not  for  his  color  he  would  blush.  I  should 
not  think  it  strange  if  he  understood  what  I  say  :  they  are 
perilous  linguists." 

"  The  poor  slave  cannot  endure  your  Grace's  eye,"  said 
Neville  ;  "  it  is  nothing  more." 

"Well,  but,"  continued  the  King,  striking  the  paper  with 
his  finger,  as  he  proceeded,  "  this  bold  scroll  proceeds  to  say, 
that  our  trusty  mute  is  charged  with  a  message  from  Saladin 
to  the  Lady  Edith  Plantagenet,and  craves  means  and  oppor- 
tunity to  deliver  it.  What  think'st  thou  of  a  request  so 
modest — ha,  Neville  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,"  said  Neville,  ''how  such  freedom  may 
relish  with  your  Grace  ;  but  the  lease  of  the  messenger's  neck 
would  be  a  short  one,  who  should  carry  such  a  request  to  the 
Soldan  on  the  part  of  your  Majesty." 

**  Nay,  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  covet  none  of  his  sunburnt 


THE  TALISMAN  225 

beauties/'  said  Richard  ;  "  and  for  punishing  this  fellow  for 
discharging  his  master's  errand,  and  that  when  he  has  just 
saved  my  life,  methinks  it  were  something  too  summary. 
I'll  tell  thee,  Neville,  a  secret — for,  although  our  sable  and 
mute  minister  be  present,  he  cannot,  thou  know'st,  tell  it  over 
again,  even  if  he  should  chance  to  understand  us — I  tell 
thee,  that  for  this  fortnight  past  I  have  been  under  a  strange 
spell,  and  I  would  I  were  disenchanted.  There  has  no  sooner 
any  one  done  me  good  service,  but  lo  you,  he  cancels  his  in- 
terest in  me  by  some  deep  injury  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
who  hath  deserved  death  at  my  hands  for  some  treachery  or 
some  insult  is  sure  to  be  the  very  person,  of  all  others,  who  con- 
fers upon  me  some  obligation  that  overbalances  his  demerits, 
and  renders  respite  of  his  sentence  a  debt  due  from  my 
honor.  Thus,  thou  seest,  I  am  deprived  of  the  best  part  of 
my  royal  function,  since  I  can  neither  punish  men  nor 
reward  them.  Until  the  influence  of  this  disqualifying 
planet  be  passed  away,  I  will  say  nothing  concerning  the 
request  of  this  our  sable  attendant,  save  that  it  is  an  un- 
asually  bold  one,  and  that  his  best  chance  of  finding  grace 
n  our  eyes  will  be,  to  endeavor  to  make  the  discovery  which 
le  proposes  to  achieve  in  our  behalf.  Meanwhile,  Neville, 
io  thou  look  well  to  him,  and  let  him  be  honorably  cared 
'or.  And  hark  thee  once  more,"  he  said  in  a  low  whisjjer, 
'  seek  out  yonder  hermit  of  Engaddi,  and  bring  him  to  me 
orthwith,  be  he  saint  or  savage,  madman  or  sane.  Let  me 
ee  him  privately.'" 
Neville  retired  from  the  royal  tent,  signing  to  the  Nubian 

0  follow  him,  and  much  surprised  at  what  he  had  seen  and 
leard,  and  especially  at  the  unusual  demeanor  of  the  King, 
n  general,  no  task  was  so  easy  as  to  discover  Eichard's 
mmediate  courseof  sentiment  and  feeling,  though  it  might, 
Q  some  cases,  be  difficult  to  calculate  its  duration  ;  for  no 
weathercock  obeyed  the  changing  wind  more  readily  than 
he  King  his  gusts  of  passion.  But,  on  the  present  occasion, 
is  manner  seemed  unusually  constrained  and  mysterious, 
or  was  it  easy  to  guess  whether  displeasure  or  kindness 
redominated  in  his  conduct  towards  his  new  dependant, 
r  in  the  looks  with  which,  from  time  to  time,  he  regarded 
im.  The  ready  service  which  the  King  had  rendered  to 
Dunteract  the  bad  effects  of  the  Nubian's  wound  might 
iem  to  balance  the  obligation  conferred  on  him  by  the 
ave,  when  he  intercepted  the  blow  of  the  assassin  ;  but  it 
;emed,  as  a  much  longer  account  remained  to  be  arranged 
3tween  them,  that  the  monarch  was  doubtful  whether  the 

1  '5 


226  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

settlement  might  leave  him,  upou  the  whole,  debtor  or 
creditor,  and  that,  therefore,  he  assumed,  in  the  meantime, 
a  neutral  demeanor,  which  might  suit  with  either  character. 
As  for  the  Nubian,  by  whatever  means  he  had  acquired  the 
art  of  writing  the  European  languages,  the  King  remained 
convinced  that  the  English  tongue  at  least  was  unknown  to 
him,  since,  having  watched  him  closely  during  the  last  part 
of  the  interview,  he  conceived  it  impossible  for  any  one  un- 
derstanding a  conversation,  of  which  he  was  liimself  the  sub- 
ject, to  have  so  completely  avoided  the  appearance  of  taking 
an  interest  in  it. 


CHAPTEE  XXII 

Who's  there  ?     Approach — 'tis  kindly  done — 
My  learned  physician  and  a  friend. 

Sir  Eustace  Grey. 

Due  narrative  retrogrades  to  a  period  shortly  previous  to  the 
ncidents  last  mentioned,  when,  as  the  reader  must  remem 
3er,  the  unfortunate  Knight  of  the  Leopard,  bestowed  upon 
:he  Arabian  physician  by  King  Eichard,  rather  as  a  slave 
:han  in  any  other  capacity,  was  exiled  from  the  camp  of  the 
Jrusaders,  in  whose  ranks  he  had  so  often  and  so  brilliantly 
iistinguished  himself.  He  followed  his  new  master,  for  so 
ve  must  now  term  the  Hakim,  to  the  Moorish  tents  which 
iontained  his  retinue  and  his  property,  with  the  stupified 
'eelings  of  one  who,  fallen  from  the  summit  of  a  precipice, 
ind  escaping  unexpectedly  with  life,  is  just  able  to  drag 
limself  from  the  fatal  spot,  but  without  the  power  of  es- 
imating  the  extent  of  the  damage  which  he  has  sustained. 
Arrived  at  the  tent,  he  threw  himself,  without  speech  of  any 
cind,  upon  a  couch  of  dressed  buffalo's  hide,  which  was 
)ointed  out  to  him  by  his  conductor,  and,  hiding  his  face 
)etwixt  his  hands,  groaned  heavily,  as  if  his  heart  were  on 
he  point  of  bursting.  The  physician  heard  him,  as  he 
ras  giving  orders  to  his  numerous  domestics  to  prepare  for 
heir  departure  the  next  morning  before  daybreak,  and, 
noved  with  compassion,  interrupted  his  occupation  to  sit 
lown,  cross-legged,  by  the  side  of  his  couch,  and  administer 
omfort  according  to  the  Oriental  manner. 

"  My  friend, ""he  said,  "  be  of  good  comfort ;  for  what 
ayeth  the  poet — '  It  is  better  that  a  man  should  be  the  ser- 
ant  of  a  kind  master  than  the  slave  of  his  own  wild  pas- 
ions.'  Again,  be  of  good  courage  ;  because,  whereas  Ysouf 
en  Yagoube  was  sold  to  a  king  by  his  brethren,  even  to 
*haraoh  king  of  Egypt,  thy  king  hath,  on  the  other  hand, 
estowed  thee  on  one  who  will  be  to  thee  as  a  brother.'" 

Sir  Kenneth  made  an  effort  to  thank  the  Hakim  ;  but  his 

eart  was  too  full,  and  the  indistinct  sounds  which  accom- 

anied  his  abortive  attempts  to  reply  induced  the  kind  phy- 

ician  to  desist  from  his  premature  endeavors  at  consolation, 

227 


228  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

He  left  his  new  domestic,  or  guest,  in  quiet,  to  indulge  hii 
sorrows,  and  having  commanded  all  the  necessary  prepara 
tions  for  their  departure  on  the  morning,  sat  down  upon  the 
carpet  of  the  tent  and  indulged  himself  in  a  moderate  re 
past.  After  he  had  thus  refreshed  himself,  similar  viand; 
were  offered  to  the  Scottish  knight  ;  but  though  the  slave; 
let  him  understand  that  the  next  day  would  be  far  advances 
ere  they  would  halt  for  the  purpose  of  refreshment,,  Sii 
Kenneth  could  not  overcome  the  disgust  which  he  fel 
against  swallowing  any  nourishment,  and  could  be  prevailei 
upon  to  taste  nothing,  saving  a  draught  of  cold  water. 

He  was  awake,  long  after  his  Arab  host  had  performec 
his  usual  devotions  and  betaken  himself  to  his  repose,  no: 
had  sleep  visited  him  at  the  hour  of  midnight,  when  a  move 
ment  took  place  among  the  domestics,  which,  though  at 
tended  with  no  speech,  and  very  little  noise,  made  him  awan 
they  were  loading  the  camels  and  preparing  for  departure 
In  the  course  of  these  preparations,  the  last  person  who  wa, 
disturbed,  excepting  the  physician  himself,  was  the  Knigli 
of  Scotland,  whom,  about  three  in  the  morning,  a  sort  o 
major-domo,  or  master  of  the  household,  acquainted  tha 
he  must  arise.  He  did  so,  without  farther  answer,  and  fol 
lowed  him  into  the  moonlight,  where  stood  the  camels,  mos 
of  which  were  already  loaded,  and  one  only  remained  kneel 
ing  until  its  burden  should  be  completed. 

A  little  apart  from  the  camels  stood  a  number  of  horse 
ready  bridled  and  saddled,  and  the  Hakim  himself,  comiii; 
forth,  mounted  on  one  of  them  with  as  much  agility  as  tin 
grave  decorum  of  his  character  permitted,  and  directed  an 
other,  which  he  pointed  out,  to  be  led  towards  Sir  Kenneth 
An  English  officer  was  in  attendance  to  escort_  them  througl 
the  camp  of  the  Crusaders,  and  to  ensure  their  leaving  it  ii 
safety,  and  all  was  ready  for  their  departure.  The  pavilioi 
which  they  had  left  was,  in  the  meanwhile,  struck  witl 
singular  despatch,  and  the  tent-poles  and  coverings  com 
posed  the  burden  of  the  last  camel ;  when  the  physiciai 
pronouncing  solemnly  the  verse  of  the  Koran,  "  God  be  on 
guide,  and  Mohammed  our  protector,  in  the  desert  as  in_tli< 
watered  field,"  the  whole  cavalcade  was  instantly  in  motion 

In  traversing  the  camp,  they  were  challenged  by  the  va 
rious  sentinels  who  maintained  guard  there,  and  suffered  t' 
proceed  in  silence,  or  with  a  muttered  curse  upon  the; 
prophet,  as  they  passed  the  post  of  some  more  zealous  Cm 
sader.  At  length,  the  las*  barriers  were  left  behind  them 
and  the  party  formed  th'  ^selves  for  the  march  with  mih 


THE  TALISMAN  229 

6ary  precaution.  Two  or  three  horsemen  advanced  in  front 
as  a  vanguard  ;  one  or  two  remained  a  bow-shot  in  the  rear  ; 
and,  wherever  the  ground  admitted,  others  were  detached 
to  keep  an  outlook  on  the  flanks.  In  this  manner  they  pro- 
ceeded onward,  while  Sir  Kenneth,  looking  back  on  the 
moonlight  camp,  might  now  indeed  seem  banished,  deprived 
at  once  of  honor  and  of  liberty,  from  the  glimmering  ban- 
ners under  which  he  had  hoped  to  gain  additional  renown, 
and  the  tended  dwellings  of  chivalry,  of  Christianity,  and — 
of  Edith  Plantagenet. 

The  Hakim,  who  rode  by  his  side,  observed,  in  his  usual 
tone  of  sententious  consolation — "  It  is  unwise  to  look  back 
when  the  journey  lieth  forward  "  ;  and  as  he  spoke,  the  horse 
3f  the  knight  made  such  a  perilous  stumble  as  threatened  to 
add  a  practical  moral  to  the  tale. 

_  The  knight  was  compelled  by  this  hint  to  give  more  atten- 
tion to  the  management  of  his  steed,  which  more  than  once 
required  the  assistance  and  support  of  the  check-bridle  al- 
::hough,  in  other  respects,  nothing  could  be  more  easy  at  once 
md  active  than  the  ambling  pace  at  which  the  animal,  which 
ivas  a  mare,  proceeded. 

"  The  conditions  of  that  horse,"  observed  the  sententious 
physician,  *•  are  like  those  of  human  fortune  ;  seeing  that 
imidst  his  most  swift  and  easy  pace  the  rider  must  guard 
limself  against  a  fall,  and  that  it  is  when  prosperity  is  at  the 
lighest  that  our  prudence  should  be  awake  and  vigilant,  to 
orevent  misfortune." 

The  overloaded  appetite  loathes  even  the  honeycomb,  and 
itis  scarce  a  wonder  that  the  knight,  mortified  and  harassed 
,vith  misfortunes  and  abasement,  became  something  impatient 
pf  hearing  his  misery  made,  at  every  turn,  the  ground  of 
broverbs  and  apothegms,  however  just  and  apposite. 
\  _  "  Methinks,"  he  said,  rather  peevishly,  "  I  wanted  no  ad- 
litional  illustration  of  the  instability  of  fortune  ;  though  I 
should  thank  thee,  sir  Hakim,  for  thy  choice  of  a  steed  for 
ne,  would  the  jade  but  stumble  so  effectually  as  at  once  to 
)reak  my  neck  and  her  own." 

"  My  brother,"  answered  the  Arab  sage,  with  imperturb- 
.ble  gravity,  "  thou  speakest  as  one  of  the  foolish.  Thou 
ay'st  in  thy  heart,  that  the  sage  should  have  given  thee 
s  his  guest  the  younger  and  better  horse,  and  reserved  the 
Id  one  for  himself  ;  but  know,  that  the  defects  of  the  older 
teed  may  be  compensated  by  the  energies  of  the  young  rider, 
whereas  the  violence  of  the  young  horse  requires  to  be  mod- 
rated  by  the  cold  temper  of  the  older." 


230  WAVERLEV  j\OVELS 

So  spoke  the  sage  ;  but  neither  to  this  observation  did  Sir 
Kenneth  return  any  answer  which  could  lead  to  a  continuance 
of  their  conversation,  and  the  physician,  wearied,  periiaps. 
of  administering  comfort  to  one  who  would  not  be  comforted, 
signed  to  one  of  his  retinue. 

"Hassan,"  he  said,  "hast  thou  nothing  wherewith  to  be- 
guile the  way  ?" 

Hassan,  story-teller  and  poet  by  profession,  spurred,  up, 
upon  this  summons,  to  exercise  his  calling.  "Lord  of  the 
palace  of  life,"  he  said,  addressing  the  ph3^sician,  "  thou, 
before  whom  the  angel  Azrael  spreadeth  his  wings  for  flight 

thou,  wiser  than  Solimaun  ben  Daoud,  upon  whose  signet 

was   inscribed    the  real   name   which   controls  the  spirits 
of  the  elements — forbid  it.  Heaven,  that,  while  thou  travellest 
upon  the  track  of  benevolence,  bearing  healing  and  hope  wher- 
ever thou  comest,  thine  own  course  should  be  saddened  for  t!it 
lack  of  the  tale  and  of  the  song.     Behold,  while  thy  servant}  g!i 
is  at  thy  side,  he  will  pour  forth  the  treasures  of  his  memory,-  - 
as  the  fountain  sendeth  her  stream  beside  the  pathway,  for 
the  refreshment  of  him  that   walketh  thereon." 

After  this  exordium,  Hassan  uplifted  his  voice,  and  began;  ini 
a  tale  of  love  and  magic,  intermixed  with  feats  of  warlike;  e: 
achievement,  and  ornamented  with  abundant  quotations  from 
xhe  Persian  poets,  with  whose  compositions  the  orator  seemed  _ 
familiar.  The  retinue  of  the  physician,  such  excepted  as  _ 
were  necessarily  detained  in  attendance  on  the  camels,  jpr; 
thronged  up  to  the  narrator,  and  pressed  as  close  as  deferencel  ; 
for  their  master  permitted,  to  enjoy  the  delight  which  the j  jr,. 
inhabitants  of  the  East  have  ever  derived  from  this  species  tin 
of  exhibition.  i !(- 

At  another  time,  notwithstanding  his  imperfect  knowledge!  if, 
of  the  language.  Sir  Kenneth  might  have  been  interested  m\\. 
the  recitation,  which,  though  dictated  by  a  more  extravagant! 
imagination,  and  expressed  in  more  inflated  and  metaphorical' ,, 
language,  bore  yet  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  romances  of  it(; 
chivalrv,  then  so  fashionable  in  Europe.     But  as  matters  it, 
stood  with  him,  he  was  scarcely  even  sensible  that  a  man  in,  i^ 
the  centre  of  the  cavalcade  recited  and  sung,  in  a  low  tone,  j|;,, 
for  nearly  two  hours,  modulating  his  voice  to  the  various  ji^. 
moods  of  passion  introduced  into  the  tale,  and  receiving,  in'  • 
return,  noAV  low  murmurs  of  applause,  now  muttered  ex- 
pressions of  wonder,  now  sighs  and  tears,  and  sometimes, 
what  it  was  far  more  difficult  to  extract  from  such  an  audi- 
ence, a  tribute  of  smiles,  and  even  laughter. 

During  the  recitation,  the  attention  of  the  exile,  however 


THE  TALISMAN  281 " 

abstracted  by  his  own  deep  sorrow,  was  occasionally  awakened 
by  the  low  wail  of  a  dog,  secured  in  a  wicker  inclosure  sus- 
pended on  one  of  the  camels,  which,  as  an  experienced 
woodsman,  he  had  no  hesitation  in  recognizing  to  be  that  of 
his  own  faithful  hound  ;  and  from  the  plaintive  tone  of  the 
animal,  he  hud  no  doubt  that  he  was  sensible  of  his  master's 
vicinity,  and,  in  his  way,  invoking  his  assistance  for  liberty 
and  rescue. 

"  Alas  !  poor  Eoswal,*'  he  said,  "  thou  callest  for  aid  and 
sympathy  upon  one  in  stricter  bondage  than  thou  thyself  art. 
I  will  not  seem  to  heed  thee,  or  return  thy  affection,  since  it 
would  serve  but  to  load  our  parting  with  yet  more  bitterness." 

Thus  passed  the  hours  of  night,  and  the  space  of  dim  hazy 
dawn  which  forms  the  twilight  of  a  Syrian  morning.  But 
when  the  very  first  line  of  the  sun's  disk  began  to  rise  above 
the  level  horizon,  and  when  the  very  first  level  ray  shot 
glimmering  in  dew  along  the  surface  of  the  desert,  which  the 
travelers  had  now  attained,  the  sonorous  voice  of  El  Hakim 
himself  overpowered  and  cut  short  the  narrative  of  the  tale- 
teller, while  he  caused  to  resound  along  the  sands  the  solemn 
summons  which  the  muezzins  thunder  at  morning  from  the 
niinuret  of  every  mosque. 

"  To  prayer — to  prayer  !  God  is  the  one  God.  To  prayer 
— to  prayer  !  Mohammed  is  the  prophet  of  God.  To  prayer 
• — to  prayer  !  Time  is  flying  from  you.  To  prayer — to 
prayer  !     Judgment  is  drawing  nigh  to  you." 

In  an  instant  each  Moslem  cast  himself  from  his  horse, 
turned  his  face  towards  Mecca,  and  performed  with  sand  an 
imitation  of  those  ablutions  which  were  elsewhere  required 
to  be  made  with  water,  while  each  individual,  in  brief  but 
fervent  ejaculations,  recommended  himself  to  the  care,  and 
his  sins  to  the  forgiveness,  of  God  and  the  Prophet. 

Even  Sir  Kenneth,  whose  reason  at  once  and  prejudices 
were  offended  by  seeing  his  companions  in  that  which  he 
considered  as  an  act  of  idolatry,  could  not  help  respecting 
the  sincerity  of  their  misguided  zeal,  and  being  stimulated 
by  their  fervor  to  apply  supi^lications  to  Heaven  in  a  purer 
form,  wondering,  meanwhile,  what  new-born  feelings  could 
teach  him  to  accompany  in  prayer,  though  with  varied  in- 
vocations, those  very  Saracens,  whose  heathenish  worship  he 
had  conceived  a  crime  dishonorable  to  the  land  in  which 
high  miracles  had  been  wrought,  and  where  the  day-star  of 
redemption  had  ainsen. 

The  act  of  devotion,  however,  though  rendered  in  such 
Btrange  society,  burst  purely  from  his  natural  feelings  of 


232  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

religious  duty,  and  had  its  usual  effect  in  composing  the 
spirits,  which  had  been  long  harassed  by  so  rapid  a  succes- 
sion of  calamities.  The  sincere  and  earnest  approach  of  the 
Christian  to  the  throne  of  the  Almiglity  teaches  the  best  les- 
son of  patience  under  affliction  ;  since  wherefore  should  we 
mock  the  Deity  with  supplications,  Avhen  we  insult  Him  by 
murmuring  under  His  decrees  ?  or  how,  while  our  prayers 
have  in  every  word  admitted  the  vanity  and  nothingness  of 
the  things  of  time  in  comparison  to  those  of  eternity,  should 
we  hope  to  deceive  the  Searcher  of  Hearts,  by  permitting  the 
world  and  worldly  passions  to  reassume  the  reins  even  im- 
mediately after  a  solemn  address  to  Heaven  ?  But  Sir  Ken- 
neth was  not  of  these.  He  felt  himself  comforted  and 
strengthened,  and  better  prepared  to  execute  or  submit  to 
whatever  his  destiny  might  call  upon  him  to  do  or  to  suffer. 

Meanwhile,  the  par^y  of  Saracens  regained  their  saddles 
and  continued  their  route,  and  the  tale-teller,  Hassan, 
resumed  the  thread  of  his  narrative  ;  but  it  was  no  longer  to 
the  same  attentive  audience.  A  horseman,  who  had  ascended 
some  high  ground  on  the  right  hand  of  the  little  column, 
''lad  returned  on  a  speedy  gallop  to  El  Hakim,  and  commu- 
licated  with  him.  Four  or  five  more  cavaliers  had  then 
oeen  despatched,  and  the  little  band,  which  might  consist 
of  about  twenty  or  thirty  persons,  began  to  follow  them 
with  their  eyes,  as  men  from  whose  gestures,  and  advance 
or  retreat,  they  were  to  augur  good  or  evil.  Hassan,  finding 
his  audience  inattentive,  or  being  himself  attracted  by  the 
dubious  appearances  on  the  flank,  stinted  in  his  song  ;  and 
the  march  became  silent,  save  when  a  camel-driver  called 
out  to  his  patient  charge,  or  some  anxious  follower  of  the 
Hakim  communicated  with  his  next  neighbor  in  a  hurried 
and  low  whisper. 

This  suspense  continued  until  they  had  rounded  a  ridge, 
composed  of  hillocks  of  sand,  which  concealed  from  their 
main  body  the  object  that  had  created  this  alarm  among 
their  scouts.  Sir  Kenneth  could  now  see,  at  the  distance 
of  a  mile  or  more,  a  dark  object  moving  rapidly  on  the 
bosom  of  the  desert,  which  his  experienced  eye  recognized 
for  a  party  of  cavalry,  much  superior  to  their  own  in  num- 
bers, and,"^from  the  thick  and  frequent  flashes  which  flung 
back  the  level  beams  of  the  rising  sum,  it  was  plain  that 
these  were  Europeans  in  their  complete  panoply. 

The  anxious  looks  which  the  horsemen  of  El  Hakim  now 
cast  upon  their  leader  seemed  to  indicate  deep  apprehension; 
while  he,  with  gravity  as  undisturbed  as  when  he  called  his 


I  THE  TALISMAN  233 

followers  to  prayer,  detached  two  of  his  best-mounted  ca- 
valiers, with  instructions  to  approach  as  closely  as  prudence 
permitted  to  these  travelers  of  the  desert,  and  observe  more 
minutely  their  numbers,  their  character,  and,  if  possible, 
their  purpose.  The  approach  of  danger,  or  what  was  feared 
as  such,  was  like  a  stimulating  draught  to  one  in  apathy, 
and  recalled  Sir  Kenneth  to  himself  and  his  situation. 

"  What  fear  you  from  these  Christian  horsemen,  for  such 
they  seem  ?  "  he  said  to  the  Hakim, 

''  Fear  !  "  said  El  Hakim,  repeating  the  word  disdainfully. 
"  The  sage  fears  nothing  but  Heaven,  but  ever  expects  from 
wicked  men  the  worst  which  they  can  do," 

"  They  are  Christians,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  ''and  it  is  the 
time  of  truce  ;  why  should  you  fear  a  breach  of  faith  ?" 

"They  are  the  priestly  soldiers  of  the  Temple,"  answered 
El  Hakim,  "  whose  vow  limits  them  to  know  neither  truth 
Qor  faith  with  the  worshipers  of  Islam,  May  the  Prophet 
blight  them,  both  root,  branch,  and  twig  !  Their  peace  is 
war,  and  their  faith  is  falsehood.  Other  invaders  of  Pal- 
estine have  their  times  and  moods  of  courtesy.  The  lion 
Richard  will  spare  when  he  has  conquered  ;  the  eagle  Philip 
will  close  his  wing  when  he  has  stricken  a  prey  ;  even  the 
A-ustrian  bear  will  sleej)  when  he  is  gorged  ;  but  this  horde 
3f  ever-hungry  wolves  know  neither  pause  nor  satiety  in 
their  rapine,  Seest  thou  not  that  they  are  detaching  a 
party  from  their  main  body,  and  that  they  take  an  eastern 
lirection  ?  Yon  are  their  pages  and  squires,  whom  they 
:rain  up  in  their  accursed  mysteries,  and  whom,  as  lighter 
iiounted,  they  send  to  cut  us  off  from  our  watering-place. 
But  they  will  be  disappointed  :  /  know  the  war  of  the  desert 
7et  better  than  they." 

He  spoke  a  few  words  to  his  principal  officer,  and  his 
whole  demeanor  and  countenance  was  at  once  changed  from 
;he  solemn  repose  of  an  Eastern  sage,  accustomed  more  to 
contemplation  than  to  action,  into  the  prompt  and  proud 
expression  of  a  gallant  soldier,  whose  enei-gies  are  roused  bj 
:;he  near  approach  of  a  danger  which  he  at  once  foresee! 
md  despises. 

To  Sir  Kenneth's  eyes  the  approaching  crisis  had  a  differen  , 
ispect,  and  when  Adonbec  said  to  him,  "Thou  must  tany 
;lose  by  my  side,"  he  answered  solemnly  in  the  negative, 

•'  Yonder,"  he  said,  "are  my  comrades  in  arms — the  rr.en 
n  whose  society  I  have  vowed  to  fight  or  fall.  On  t'leir 
oanner  gleams  the  sign  of  our  most  blessed  redemption  ;  I 
januot  fly  from  the  Cross  in  company  with  the  Crescer  t." 


234  WA  VEELEY  NO  VELS 

"Fool!"  said  the  Hakim;  "their  first  action  would  he 
to  do  thee  to  death,  were  it  only  to  conceal  their  breach  of  , 
the  truce."  :   | 

"  Of  that  I  must  take  my  chance,"  replied  Sir  Kenneth  ;  r 
"  but  I  wear  not  the  bonds  of  the  infidels  an  instant  longer 
than  I  can  cast  them  from  me." 

"  Then  will  I  compel  thee  to  follow  me,"  said  El  Hakim. 

"Compel!"  answered  Sir  Kenneth,  angrily.  "Wert 
thou  not  my  benefactor,  or  one  who  has  showed  Avill  to  be 
such,  and  were  it  not  that  it  is  to  thy  confidence  I  owe  the 
freedom  of  these  hands,  which  thou  mightst  have  loaded 
with  fetters,  I  would  show  thee  that,  unarmed  as  I  am,  com- 
pulsion would  be  no  easy  task." 

"Enough — enough,"  replied  the  Arabian  physician,  *' we 
lose  time  even  when  it  is  becoming  precious." 

So  saying,  he  threw  his  arm  aloft,  and  uttered  a  loud  and 
shrill  cry,  as  a  signal  to  those  of  his  retinue,  who  instantly 
dispersed  themselves  on  the  face  of  the  desert,  in  as  many 
different  directions  as  a  chaplet  of  beads  when  the  string  is 
broken.  Sir  Kenneth  had  no  time  to  note  what  ensued  ; 
for,  at  the  same  instant,  the  Hakim  seized  the  rein  of  his 
steed,  and  putting  his  own  to  its  metal,  both  sprung  forth 
at  once  with  the  suddenness  of  light,  and  at  a  pitch  of  velo- 
city which  almost  deprived  the  Scottish  knight  of  the  power 
of  respiration,  and  left  him  absolutely  incapable,  had  he 
been  desirous,  to  have  checked  the  career  of  his  guide. 
Practised  as  Sir  Kenneth  was  in  horsemanship  from  his 
earliest  youth,  the  speediest  horse  he  had  ever  mounted  was 
a  tortoise  in  comparison  to  those  of  the  Arabian  sage.  They 
spurned  the  sand  from  behind  them — they  seemed  to  devour 
the  desert  before  them — miles  flew  away  with  minutes,  and 
yet  their  strength  seemed  unabated,  and  their  respiration  as 
free  as  when  they  first  started  upon  the  wonderful  race. 
The  motion,  too,  as  easy  as  it  was  swift,  seemed  more  like 
flying  through  the  air  than  riding  on  the  earth,  and  was  at- 
tended with  no  unpleasant  sensation,  save  the  awe  naturally 
felt  by  one  who  is  moving  at  such  astonishing  speed,  and 
the  difficulty  of  breathing  occasioned  by  their  passing  through 
the  air  so  rapidly. 

It  was  not  until  after  an  hour  of  this  portentous  motion, 
and  when  all  human  pursuit  was  far,  far  behind,  that  the 
Hakim  at  length  relaxed  his  speed,  and,  slackening  the  pace 
of  the  horses  into  a  hand-gallop,  began,  in  a  voice  as  com- 
posed and  even  as  if  lie  had  been  walking  for  the  last  hour, 
a  descant  upon  the  excellence  of  his  coursers  to  the  Scot, 


THE  TALISMAN  235 

who,  breathless,  half  blind,  half  dead,  and  altogether  giddy, 
from  the  rapidity  of  this  singular  ride,  hardly  comprehended 
the  words  which  flowed  so  freely  from  his  companion. 

"  Those  horses,'*  he  said,  "are  of  the  breed  called  the 
Winged,  equal  in  speed  to  aught  excepting  the  Borak  of  the 
Prophet.  They  are  fed  on  the  golden  barley  of  Yemen, 
mixed  with  spices,  and  with  a  small  portion  of  dried  sheep's 
flesh.  Kings  have  given  provinces  to  possess  them,  and 
their  age  is  active  as  their  youth.  Thou,  Nazarene,  art  the 
first,  save  a  true  believer,  that  ever  had  beneath  his  loins 
one  of  this  noble  race,  a  gift  of  the  Prophet  himself  to  the 
blessed  Ali,  his  kinsman  and  lieutenant,  well  called  the  Lion 
of  God.  Time  lays  his  touch  so  lightly  on  these  generous 
steeds,  that  the  mare  on  which  thou  nowsittest  has  seen  five 
times  five  years  pass  over  her,  yet  retains  her  pristine  speed 
and  vigor,  only  that  in  the  career  the  support  of  a  bridle, 
managed  by  a  hand  more  experienced  than  thine,  hath 
now  become  necessary.  May  the  Prophet  be  blessed,  who 
hath  bestowed  on  the  true  believers  the  means  of  advance 
and  retreat,  which  causeth  their  iron-clothed  enemies  to  be 
worn  out  with  their  own  ponderous  weight !  How  the  horses 
of  yonder  dog  Templars  must  have  snorted  and  blown,  when 
they  had  toiled  fetlock-deep  in  the  desert  for  one-twentieth 
part  of  the  space  which  these  brave  steeds  have  left  behind 
them,  without  one  thick  pant,  or  a  drop  of  moisture  upon 
their  sleek  and  velvet  coats  !  " 

The  Scottish  knight,  who  had  now  begun  to  recover  his 
breath  and  powers  of  attention,  could  not  help  acknowledg- 
ing in  his  heart  the  advantage  possessed  by  these  Eastern 
warriors  in  a  race  of  animals  alike  proper  for  advance  or  re- 
treat, and  so  admirably  adapted  to  the  level  and  sandy  des- 
erts of  Arabia  and  Syria.  But  he  did  not  choose  to  augment 
the  pride  of  the  Moslem  by  acquiescing  in  his  proud  claim 
of  superiority,  and  therefore  suffered  the  conversation  to 
drop,  and,  looking  around  him,  could  now,  at  the  more 
moderate  pace  at  which  they  moved,  distinguish  that  he 
was  in  a  country  not  unknown  to  him. 

The  blighted  borders  and  sullen  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea, 
t.ie  ragged  and  precipitous  chain  of  mountains  arising  on 
the  left,  the  two  or  three  palms  clustered  together,  forming 
the  single  green  speck  on  the  bosom  of  the  waste  wilderness 
— objects  which,  once  seen,  were  scarcely  to  be  forgotten — • 
showed  to  Sir  Kenneth  that  they  were  approaching  the  foun- 
tain called  the  Diamond  of  the  Desert,  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  his  interview  on  a  former  occasion  with  the  Saracen 


236  WA  V-ERLE  Y  NO  VEL  S 

Emir  Slieerkolif,  or  Ilderim.  In  a  few  minutes  they  checked 
their  horses  beside  the  spring,  and  the  Hakim  invited  8ir 
Kennetli  to  descend  from  horseback,  and  repose  himself  as 
in  a  place  of  safety.  They  unbridled  their  steeds,  El  Hakim 
observing  that  farther  care  of  them  was  unnecessary,  since 
they  would  be  speedily  Joined  by  some  of  the  best-mounted 
among  his  slaves,  who  would  do  what  farther  was  needful. 

''Meantime,"  he  said,  spreading  some  food  on  the  grass, 
''  eat  and  drink,  and  be  not  discouraged.  Fortune  may  raise 
up  or  abase  the  ordinary  mortal,  but  the  sage  and  the  soldier 
should  have  minds  beyond  her  control."' 

The  Scottish  knight  endeavored  to  testify  his  thanks  by 
showing  himself  docile  ;  but  though  he  strove  to  eat  out  of 
complaisance,  the  singular  contrast  between  his  present 
situation  and  that  which  he  had  occupied  on  the  same  spot, 
when  the  envoy  of  princes  and  the  victor  in  combat,  came 
like  a  cloud  over  his  mind,  and  fasting,  lassitude,  and  fatigue 
oppressed  his  bodily  powers.  El  Hakim  examined  his 
hurried  pulse,  his  red  and  inflamed  eye,  his  heated  hand, 
and  his  shortened  respiration. 

"  The  mind,"  he  said,  "grows  wise  by  watching,  but  her 
sister  the  body,  of  coarser  materials,  needs  the  support  of 
repose.  Thou  must  sleep  ;  and  that  thou  mayst  do  so  to  re- 
freshment, thou  must  take  a  draught  mingled  with  this 
elixir." 

He  drew  from  his  bosom  a  small  crystal  vial,  cased  in  silver 
filigree-work,  and  dropped  into  a  little  golden  drinkiug-cup 
a  small  portion  of  a  dark-colored  fluid. 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  one  of  those  productions  which 
Allah  hath  sent  on  earth  for  a  blessing,  though  man's  weak- 
ness and  wickedness  have  sometimes  converted  it  into  a 
curse.  It  is  powerful  as  the  wine-cup  of  the  Nazarene  to 
drop  the  curtain  on  the  sleepless  eye,  and  to  relieve  the 
burden  of  the  overloaded  bosom  ;  but  when  applied  to  the 
purposes  of  indulgence  and  debauchery,  it  rends  the  nerves, 
destroys  the  strength,  weakens  the  intellect,  and  undermines 
life.  But  fear  not  thou  to  use  its  virtues  in  the  time  of 
need,  for  the  wise  man  warms  him  by  the  same  fire-brand 
with  which  the  madman  burnetii  the  tent."* 

"I  have  seen  too  much  of  tliy  skill,  sage  Hakim,"  said  Sir 
Kenneth,"  to  debate  thine  host"  ;  and  swallowed  the  narcotic, 
mingled  as  it  was  with  some  water  from  the  spring,  then 
wrapped  him  in  the  haik,  or  Arab  cloak,  which  had  been  fast- 
ened to  his  saddle-pommel,  and,  according  to  the  directions  of 
*  Some  preparation  of  opium  seems  to  be  intimated. 


THE  TALISMAN  237 

the  physician, stretched  himself  at  ease  in  the  shade  to  await  the 
promised  repose.  Sleep  came  not  at  first,  but  in  her  stead  a 
train  of  pleasing,  yet  not  rousing  or  awakening,  sensations. 
A  state  ensued  in  which,  still  conscious  of  his  own  iden- 
tity and  his  own  condition,  the  knight  felt  enabled  to  con- 
sider them  not  only  without  alarm  and  sorrow,  but  as  com- 
posedly as  he  might  have  viewed  the  story  of  his  misfortunes 
acted  upon  a  stage,  or  rather  as  a  disembodied  spirit  might 
regard  the  transactions  of  its  past  existence.  From  this 
state  of  repose,  amounting  almost  to  apathy  respecting  the 
past,  his  thouglits  were  carried  forward  to  the  future,  which 
in  spite  of  all  that  existed  to  overcloud  the  prospect,  glit- 
tered with  such  hues  as,  under  much  happier  auspices,  his 
unstimulated  imagination  had  not  been  able  to  produce, 
even  in  its  most  exalted  state.  Liberty,  fame,  successful 
love,  appeared  to  be  the  certain,  and  not  very  distant,  pros- 
pect of  the  enslaved  exile,  the  dishonored  knight,  even  of 
tlie  despairing  lover,  who  had  placed  his  hopes  of  happiness 
so  far  beyond  the  prospect  of  chance,  in  her  wildest  possi- 
bilities, serving  to  countenance  his  wishes.  Gradually,  as 
tlie  intellectual  sight  became  overclouded,  these  gay  visions 
became  obscure,  like  the  dying  hues  of  sunset,  until  they 
were  at  last  lost  in  total  oblivion  ;  and  Sir  Kenneth  lay  ex- 
tended at  the  feet  of  El  Hakim,  to  all  appearance,  but  for 
his  deep  respiration,  as  inanimate  a  corpse  as  if  life  had 
actually  departed. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

Mid  these  wild  scenes  encliantment  waves  her  hand. 
To  change  tlie  face  of  the  mysterious  land  ; 
Till  the  bewildering  scenes  around  us  seem 
The  vain  productions  of  a  feverish  dream. 

Astolpho,  a  Romance. 

When"  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard  awoke  from  his  long  and 
profound  repose,  he  found  himself  in  circumstances  so  dif- 
ferent from  those  in  which  he  had  lain  down  to  sleep,  that 
he  doubted  whether  he  was  not  still  dreaming,  or  whether 
the  scene  had  not  been  changed  by  magic.  Instead  of  the 
damp  grass,  he  lay  on  a  couch  of  more  than  Oriental  luxury, 
and  some  kind  hands  had,  during  his  repose,  stripped  him 
of  the  cassock  of  chamois  which  he  wore  under  his  armor, 
and  substituted  a  night-dress  of  the  finest  linen,  and  a  loose 
gown  of  silk.  He  had  been  canopied  only  by  the  palm-trees 
of  the  desert,  bat  now  he  lay  beneath  a  silken  pavilion, 
which  blazed  with  the  richest  colors  of  the  Chinese  loom, 
while  a  slight  curtain  of  gauze,  displayed  around  his  couch, 
was  calculated  to  protect  his  repose  from  tlie  insects,  to 
which  he  had,  ever  since  his  arrival  in  these  climates,  been 
a  constant  and  passive  prey.  He  looked  around,  as  if  to 
convince  himself  that  he  was  actually  awake,  and  all  that 
fell  beneath  his  eye  partook  of  the  splendor  of  his  dormi- 
tory. A  portable  bath  of  cedar,  lined  with  silver,  was  ready 
for  use,  and  steamed  with  the  odors  which  had  been  used  in 
preparing  it.  On  a  small  stand  of  ebony  beside  the  couch 
stood  a  silver  vase,  containing  sherbet  of  the  most  exquisite 
quality,  cold  as  snow,  and  which  tlie  thirst  that  followed 
the  use  of  the  strong  narcotic  rendered  peculiarly  delicious. 
Still  farther  to  dispel  the  dregs  of  intoxication  which  it  had 
left  behind,  the  knight  resolved  to  use  the  bath,  and  experi- 
enced in  doing  so  a  delightful  refreshment.  Having  dried 
himself  with  napkins  of  the  Indian  wool,  he  would  willingly 
have  resumed  his  own  coarse  garments,  that  he  might  go 
forth  to  see  whether  the  world  was  as  much  changed  with- 
out as  within  the  place  of  his  repose.  These,  however,  were 
ttowhere  to  be  seen,  but  in  their  place  he  found  a  Saraceu 


THE  TALISMAN  239 

dress  of  rich  materials,  with  saber  and  poniard,  and  all  be- 
fitting an  emir  of  distinction.  He  was  able  to  suggest  no 
motive  to  himself  for  this  exuberance  of  care,  excepting  a 
suspicion  that  these  attentions  were  intended  to  shake  him 
in  his  religious  jjrofession  ;  as  indeed  it  was  well  kno\/n  that 
the  high  esteem  of  the  European  knowledge  and  courage 
made  the  Soldan  unbounded  in  his  gifts  to  those  who,  having 
become  his  prisoners,  had  been  induced  to  take  the  turban. 
Sir  Kenneth,  therefore,  crossing  himself  devoutly,  resolved 
to  set  all  such  snares  at  defiance  ;  and  that  he  might  do  so 
the  more  firmly,  conscientiously  determined  to  avail  himself 
as  moderately  as  possible  of  the  attentions  and  luxuries  thus 
liberally  heaped  upon  him.  Still,  however,  he  felt  his  liead 
oppressed  and  sleepy,  and  aware,  too,  that  his  undress  was 
not  fit  for  appearing  abroad,  he  reclined  upon  the  couch, 
and  was  again  locked  in  the  arms  of  slumber. 

But  this  time  his  rest  was  not  nnbroken,  for  he  was 
awakened  by  the  voice  of  the  physician  at  the  door  of  the 
tent,  inquiring  after  his  health,  and  whether  he  had  rested 
sufficiently,  •'  May  I  enter  your  tent  ?  "  he  concluded,  "  for 
the  curtain  is  drawn  before  the  entrance.''' 

"  The  master,''  replied  Sir  Kenneth,  determined  to  show 
that  he  was  not  surprised  into  forgetfulness  of  his  own  con- 
dition, "  need  demand  no  permission  to  enter  the  tent  of 
the  slave." 

"  But  if  I  come  not  as  a  master  ?  "  said  El  Hakim,  still 
without  entering. 

"  The  physician,"  answered  the  knight,  "  hath  free  access 
to  the  bedside  of  his  patient." 

"  Neither  come  I  now  as  a  physician,"  replied  El  Hakim  ; 
"  and  therefore  I  still  request  permission  ere  I  come  under 
the  covering  of  thy  tent." 

"  Whoever  comes  as  a  friend,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  "  and 
such  thou  hast  hitherto  shown  thyself  to  me,  the  habitation 
of  the  friend  is  ever  open  to  him." 

"  Yet  once  again,"  said  the  Eastern  sage,  after  the  peri- 
phrastical  manner  of  his  countrymen,  ''supposing  that  I 
come  not  as  a  friend  ?  " 

''  Come  as  thou  wilt,"  said  the  Scottish  knight,  somewhat 
impatient  of  this  circumlocution — "  be  what  thou  wilt,  thou 
knowest  well  it  is  neither  in  my  power  nor  my  inclination  to 
refuse  thee  entrance." 

"I  come,  then,"  said  El  Hakim,  ''as  your  ancient  foe  ; 
but  a  fair  and  a  generous  one." 
He  entered  as  he   gpok§  ;  and  when  he  stood  before  the 


240  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

bedside  of  Sir  Kenneth,  the  voice  continued  to  be  tliat  ol 
Adonbec,  the  Arabian  physician,  but  tlie  form,  di-ei^s,  and 
features  were  those  of  Jlderiui  of  Kurdistan,  called  Sheer- 
kohf.  Sir  Kenneth  gazed  upon  him,  as  if  he  expected  the 
vision  to  depart,  like  something  created  by  his  imagination. 

"  Doth  it  so  surprise  thee,^'  said  Ilderim,  "  and  thou  an 
approved  warrior,  to  see  that  a  soldier  knows  somewhat  of 
the  art  of  healing  ?  I  say  to  thee,  Nazarene,  that  an  accom- 
plished cavalier  should  know  how  to  dress  his  steed  as  well 
as  how  to  ride  him  ;  how  to  forge  his  sword  upon  the  stithy, 
as  well  as  how  to  use  it  in  battle  ;  how  to  burnish  his  arms^ 
as  well  as  how  to  wear  them  ;  and,  above  all,  how  to  cure 
wounds  as  well  as  how  to  inflict  them." 

As  he  spoke,  the  Christian  knight  repeatedly  shut  his  eyes, 
and  while  they  remained  closed,  the  idea  of  the  Hakim,  with 
his  long,  flowing,  dark  robes,  high  Tartar  cap,  and  grave 
gestures,  was  present  to  his  imagination  ;  but  so  soon  as  he 
opened  them,  the  graceful  and  richly-genmied  turban,  the 
light  hauberk  of  steel  rings  entwisted  with  silver,  which 
glanced  brilliantly  as  it  obeyed  every  inflection  of  the  body, 
the  features  freed  from  their  formal  expression,  less  swarthy 
and  no  longer  shadowed  by  the  mass  of  hair  (now  limited 
to  a  well-trimmed  beard),  announced  the  soldier  and  not  the 
sage. 

"  Art  thou  still  so  much  surprised,"  said  the  Emir,  "  and 
hast  thou  walked  in  the  work!  with  such  little  observance, 
as  to  wonder  that  men  are  not  always  what  they  seem  ? 
Thou  thyself — art  thou  what  thou  seemest  ?  " 

"  No,  by  St.  Andrew  !  "  exclaimed  the  knight  ;  "  for,  to 
the  whole  "Christian  camp  I  seem  a  traitor,  and  I  know  my- 
self to  be  a  true,  though  an  erring,  man." 

"  Even  so  I  judged  thee,"  said  Ilderim,  "  and  as  we  had 
eaten  salt  together,  I  deemed  myself  bound  to  rescue  thee 
from  death  and  contumely.  But  wherefore  lie  you  still  on 
your  couch,  since  the  sun  is  high  in  the  heavens  ?  or  are 
the  vestments  which  my  sumpter-camels,  have  afforded  un- 
worthy of  your  wearing  ?  " 

"  Not  unworthy,  surely,  but  unfitting  for  it,"  replied  the 
Scot  ;  ''  give  me  the  dress  of  a  slave,  noble  Ilderim,  and  I 
will  don  it  with  pleasure  ;  but  I  cannot  brook  to  wear  the 
habit  of  the  free  Eastern  warrior,  with  the  turban  of  the 
Molsem." 

"  ISTazaiene,"  answered  the  Emir,  "'thy  nation  so  easily 
entertain  susiDicion,  that  it  may  well  render  themselves  sus- 
pected.    Have  I  not  told  thee  that  Saludin  desires  no  co^- 


THE  TALISMAN  241 

irerts  saving  those  wliom  tlie  holy  Prophet  shall  dispose  to 
submit  themselves  to  his  law  ?  Violence  and  bribery  are 
alike  alien  to  his  plan  for  extending  the  true  faith.  Hearken 
to  me,  my  brother.  When  the  blind  man  was  miraculously 
restored  to  sight,  the  scales  dropped  from  his  eyes  at  the 
Divine  pleasure  ;  think'st  thou  that  any  earthly  leech  could 
have  removed  them  ?  No.  Such  mediciner  might  have 
tormented  the  patient  with  his  instruments,  or  perhaps 
soothed  him  with  his  balsams  and  cordials,  but  dark  as  he 
was  must  the  darkened  man  have  remained  ;  and  it  is  even 
so  with  the  blindness  of  the  understanding.  If  there  be 
those  among  the  Franks  who,  for  the  sake  of  wordly  lucre, 
have  assumed  the  turban  of  the  Prophet,  and  followed  the 
laws  of  Islam,  with  their  own  consciences  be  the  blame. 
Themselves  sought  out  the  bait ;  it  was  not  flung  to  them 
by  the  Soldan.  And  when  they  shall  hereafter  be  sentenced, 
as  hypocrites,  to  the  lowest  gulf  of  Hell,  below  Christian 
and  Jew,  magician  and  idolater,  and  condemned  to  eat  the 
fruit  of  the  tree  Yacoun,  which  is  the  heads  of  demons,  to 
themselves,  not  to  the  Soldan,  shall  their  guilt  and  their 
punishment  be  attributed.  Wherefore  wear,  without  doubt 
or  scruple,  the  vesture  prepared  for  you,  since,  if  you  pro- 
ceed to  the  camp  of  Saladin,  your  own  native  dress  will 
expose  you  to  troublesome  observation,  and  perhaps  to  in- 
sult." 

"  If  I  go  to  the  camp  of  Saladin  ?"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  re- 
peating the  words  of  the  Emir.  "  Alas  !  am  I  a  free  agent, 
and  rather  must  I  not  go  wherever  your  pleasure  carries 
me  ?" 

"  Thine  own  will  may  guide  thine  own  motions,"  said  the 
Emir,  ''as  freely  as  the  wind  which  moveth  the  dust  of  the 
desert  in  what  direction  it  chooseth.  The  noble  enemy  who 
met,  and  well-nigh  mastered,  my  sword  cannot  become  my 
slave  like  him  who  has  crouched  beneath  it.  If  wealth  and 
power  would  tempt  thee  to  join  our  people,  I  could  ensure 
thy  possessing  them  ;  but  the  man  who  refused  the  favors  of 
the  Soldan  when  the  axe  was  at  his  head  will  not,  I  fear, 
now  accept  them,  when  I  tell  him  he  has  his  free  choice." 

"  Complete  your  generosity,  noble  Emir,"  said  Sir  Ken- 
neth, "  by  forbearing  to  show  nie  a  mode  of  requital  which 
conscience  forbids  me  to  comply  with.  Permit  me  rather  to 
express,  as  bound  in  courtesy,  my  gratitude  for  this  most 
chivalrous  bounty,  this  undeserved  generosity." 

"  Say  not  undeserved,"  replied  the  Emir  Ilderim  ;  "  was 
it  not  through  thy  conversation,  and  thy  account  of  the 
i6 


242  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

beauties  which  grace  tlie  court  of  the  Melech  Ric^  that  I 
ventured  me  thither  in  disguise,  and  thereby  procured  a 
sight  the  most  blessed  that  I  have  ever  enjoyed — that  I  ever 
shall  enjoy,  until  the  glories  of  Paradise  beam  on  my  eyes  ?  '' 

"  I  understand  you  not/'  said  Sir  Kenneth,  coloring  al- 
ternately and  turning  pale,  as  one  who  felt  that  the  conver- 
sation was  taking  a  tone  of  the  most  painful  delicacy. 

"Not  understand  me!"  exclaimed  the  Emir.  "If  tlie 
sight  I  saw  in  the  tent  of  King  Richard  escaped  thine  obser- 
vation, I  will  account  it  duller  than  the  edge  of  a  buftoon's 
wooden  falchion.  True,  thou  wert  under  sentence  of  death 
at  the  time  ;  but,  in  my  case,  had  my  head  been  dropping 
from  the  trunk,  the  last  strained  glances  of  my  eyeballs  had 
distinguished  with  delight  such  a  vision  of  loveliness,  and 
the  head  would  have  rolled  itself  towards  the  incomparable 
houris,  to  kiss  with  its  quivering  lij^s  the  hem  of  their  vest- 
ments. Yonder  royalty  of  England,  who  for  her  superior 
loveliness  deserves  "to  be  queen  of  the  universe,  what  ten- 
derness in  her  blue  eye,  what  luster  in  her  tresses  of  dishev- 
eled gold  !  By  the  tomb  of  the  Prophet,  I  scarce  think 
that  the  houri  who  shall  present  to  me  the  diamond  cup  of 
immortality  will  deserve  so  warm  a  caress  \" 

"  Saracen,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  sternly,  "thou  speakest  of 
the  wife  of  Richard  of  England,  of  whom  men  think  not 
and  speak  not  as  a  woman  to  be  won,  but  as  a  queen  to  be 
revered/' 

"  I  cry  you  mercy  "  said  the  Saracen.  "  I  had  forgotten 
your  superstitious  veneration  for  the  sex,  which  you  con- 
sider rather  fit  to  be  wondered  at  and  worshiped  than  wooed 
and  possessed.  I  warrant,  since  thou  exactest  such  profound 
respect  to  yonder  tender  piece  of  frailty,  whose  every  motion, 
step,  and  look  bespeaks  her  very  woman,  less  than  absolute 
adoration  must  not  be  yielded  to  her  of  the  dark  tresses  and 
nobly-speaking  eye.  She,  indeed,  I  will  allow,  hath  in  her 
noble  port  and  majestic  mien  something  at  once  pure  and 
firm  ;  yet  even  she,  when  pressed  by  opportunity  and  a  for- 
ward lover,  would,  I  warrant  thee,  thank  him  in  her  heart 
rather  for  treating  her  as  a  mortal  than  as  a  goddess." 

"  Respect  the  kinswoman  of  Cceur-de-Lion  ! "  said  Ken- 
neth, in  a  tone  of  unreprcssed  anger. 

"Respect  her  !"  answered  the  Emir,  in  scorn;  "by  the 
Caaba,  and  if  I  do,  it  shall  be  rather  as  the  bride  of  Saladin." 

"  The  infidel  Soldan  is  unworthy  to  salute  even  a  spot 
that  has  been  ]iressed  by  the  foot  of  Edith  Plantagenet,'' 
exclaimed  the  Christian,  springing  from  his  couch. 


THE  TALISMAN  243 

"Ha!  what  said  the  Giaour?"  exclaimed  the  Emir,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  his  poniard  hilt,  while  his  forehead  glowed 
like  ghmcing  copper,  and  the  muscles  of  his  lips  and  clieeks 
wrought  till  each  curl  of  his  beard  seemed  to  twist  and  screw 
itself,  as  if  alive  with  instinctive  wrath.  But  the  Scottish 
knight,  who  had  stood  the  lion-anger  of  Richard,  was  nn- 
appalled  at  the  tiger-like  mood  of  the  chafed  Saracen. 

"  What  I  have  said/'  continued  Sir  Kenneth,  with  folded 
arms  and  dauntless  look,  "  I  would,  were  my  hands  loose, 
maintain  on  foot  or  horseback  against  all  mortals  ;  and  would 
hold  it  not  the  most  memorable  deed  of  my  life  to  support 
it  with  my  good  broadsword  against  a  score  of  these  sickles 
and  bodkins,"  pointing  at  the  curved  saber  and  small  poniard 
of  the  Emir. 

The  Saracen  recovered  his  composure  as  the  Christian 
spoke,  as  far  as  to  withdraw  his  hand  from  his  weapon,  as  if 
the  motion  had  been  without  meaning  ;  but  still  continued 
in  deep  ire. 

"  By  the  sword  of  the  Prophet,"  he  said,  ''  which  is  the 
key  both  of  Heaven  and  Hell,  he  little  values  his  own  life, 
brother,  who  uses  the  language  thou  dost.  Believe  me,  that 
were  thine  hands  loose,  as  thou  term'st  it,  one  single  true 
believer  would  find  them  so  much  to  do,  that  thou  wouldst 
soon  wish  them  fettered  again  in  manacles  of  iron." 

"  Sooner  would  I  wish  them  hewn  off  by  the  shoulder- 
blades,"  replied  Sir  Kenneth. 

"Well.  Thy  hands  are  bound  at  present,"  said  the 
Saracen,  in  a  more  amicable  tone — "bound  by  thine  own 
gentle  sense  of  courtesy,  nor  have  I  any  present  j^urpose  of 
setting  them  at  liberty.  We  have  proved  each  other's 
strength  and  courage  ere  now,  and  we  may  again  meet  in  a 
fair  field  ;  and  shame  befall  him  who  shall  be  the  first  to 
part  from  his  foeman  !  But  now  we  are  friends,  and  I  look 
for  aid  from  thee,  rather  than  hard  terms  or  defiances." 

"We  are  friends."  repeated  the  knight ;  and  there  was  a 
pause,  during  which  the  fiery  Saracen  paced  the  tent,  like 
the  lion,  Avho,  after  violent  irritation,  is  said  to  take  that 
method  of  cooling  the  distemperature  of  his  blood,  ere  he 
stretches  himself  to  repose  in  his  den.  The  colder  European 
remained  unaltered  in  posture  and  aspect ;  yet  he,  doubt- 
less, was  also  engaged  in  subduing  the  angry  feelings  which 
had  been  so  unexpectedly  awakened. 

"  Let  us  reason  of  this  calmly,"  said  the  Saracen  ;  "  I  am 
a  physician,  as  thou  know'st,  and  it  is  written,  that  he  who 
would   have  his   wound  cured  must   not  shrink  when  the 


244  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

leech  probes  and  tents  it.  Seest  thou,  I  am  about  to  lay  my 
finger  on  the  sore.  Thou  lovest  this  kinswoman  of  the 
Melech  ■Kic.  Unfold  the  veil  that  shrouds  thy  thoughts — 
or  unfold  it  not  if  thou  wilt,  for  mine  eyes  see  through  its 
coverings." 

"  I  loved  her,"  answered  Sir  Kenneth,  after  a  pause,  "as 
a  man  loves  Heaven's  grace,  and  sued  for  her  favor  like  a 
sinner  for  Heaven's  pardon." 

"And  you  love  her  no  longer  ?"  said  the  Saracen. 

"Alas,"  answered  Sir  Kenneth,  "  I  am  no  longer  worthy 
to  love  her.  I  pray  thee  cease  this  discourse  :  thy  words  are 
poniards  to  me." 

"  Pardon  me  but  a  moment,"  continued  Ilderim.  "  When 
thou,  a,  poor  and  obscure  soldier,  didst  so  boldly  and  so 
highly  fix  thine  affection,  tell  me,  hadst  thou  good  hope  of 
its  issue  ?" 

"  Love  exists  not  without  hope,"  replied  the  knight ; 
"  but  mine  was  as  nearly  allied  to  despair  as  that  of  the 
sailor  swimming  for  his  life,  who,  as  he  surmounts  billow 
after  billow,  catches  by  intervals  some  gleam  of  the  distant 
beacon,  which  shows  him  there  is  land  in  sight,  though  his 
sinking  heart  and  wearied  limbs  assure  him  that  he  will  never 
reach  it." 

"And  now,"  said  Ilderim,  "  these  hopes  are  sunk — that 
solitary  light  is  quenched  forever  ?" 

"Forever,"  answered  Sir  Kenneth,  in  the  tone  of  an  echo 
from  the  bosom  of  a  ruined  sepulchre. 

"  Methinks,"  said  the  Saracen,  "  if  all  thou  lackest  were 
some  such  distant  meteoric  glimpse  of  happiness  as  thou 
hadst  formerly,  thy  beacon-light  might  be  rekindled,  thy 
hope  fished  up  from  the  ocean  in  which  it  was  sunk,  and 
thou  thyself,  good  knight,  restored  to  the  exercise  and 
amusement  of  nourishing  thy  fantastic  passion  upon  a 
diet  as  unsubstantial  as  moonlight  ;  for,  if  thou  stood'st  to- 
morrow fair  in  reputation  as  ever  theu  wert,  she  whom  thou 
lovest  will  not  be  less  the  daughter  of  princes  and  the  elected 
bride  of  Saladin." 

"I  would  it  so  stood,"  said  the  Scot,  "and  if  I  did  not 

He  stopped  short,  like  a  man  who  is  afraid  of  boasting,  under 
circumstances  which  did  not  permit  his  being  put  to  the 
test.     The  Saracen  smiled  as  he  concluded  the  sentence. 

"Thou  wouldst  challenge  the  Soldan  to  single  combat  ?" 
said  he. 

"And  if  I  did,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  haughtily,  "  Saladin's 


THE  TALISMAN  245 

»\rould  neither  be  the  first  nor  the  best  turban  that  I  have 
couched  hxnce  at." 

•'Ay,  but  methinks  the  Soldan  might  regard  it  as  too  un- 
equal a  mode  of  perilling  the  chance  of  a  royal  bride,  and 
the  event  of  a  great  war/'  said  the  Emir, 

"  He  may  be  met  with  in  the  front  of  battle/'  said  the 
knight,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  the  ideas  which  such  a  thought 
inspired. 

"  He  has  been  ever  found  there/'  said  Ilderim  ;  ''nor  is 
it  his  wont  to  turn  his  horse's  head  from  any  brave  en- 
counter. But  it  was  not  of  the  Soldan  that  I  meant  to 
speak.  In  a  word,  if  it  will  content  thee  to  be  placed  in 
such  reputation  as  may  be  attained  by  detection  of  the  thief 
who  stole  the  banner  of  England,  I  can  put  thee  in  a  fair 
way  of  achieving  this  task.  That  is,  if  thou  wilt  be  gov- 
erned ;  for  what  says  Lokman,  'If  the  child  would  walk, 
the  nurse  must  lead  him  ;  if  the  ignorant  would  understand, 
the  wise  must  instruct.'" 

"And  thou  art  wise,  Ilderim,"  said  the  Scot — "wise 
though  a  Saracen,  and  generous  though  an  infidel.  I  have 
witnessed  that  thou  art  both.  Take,  then,  the  guidance  of 
this  matter  ;  and  so  thou  ask  nothing  of  me  contrary  to  my 
lovalty  and  my  Christian  faith,  I  will  obey  thee  punctually. 
Do  what  thou  hast  said,  and  take  my  life  when  it  is  ac- 
complished." 

"Listen  thou  to  me  then,"  said  the  Saracen.  "Thy 
noble  hound  is  now  recovered,  by  the  blessing  of  that  divine 
medicine  which  healeth  man  and  beast,  and  by  his  sagacity 
shall  those  who  assailed  him  be  discovered." 

"  Ha  ! "  said  the  knight,  "  methinks  I  comprehend  thee  ; 
I  was  dull  not  to  think  of  this  ! " 

"But  tell  me,"  added  the  Emir,  "hast  thou  any  follow- 
ers or  retainers  in  the  camp  by  whom  the  animal  may  be 
known  ?  " 

"  I  dismissed,"  said  Sir  Kenneth,  "  my  old  attendant,  thy 
patient,  with  a  varlet  that  waited  on  him,  at  the  time  when 
I  expected  to  suffer  death,  giving  him  letters  for  my  friends 
in  Scotland  ;  there  are  none  other  to  whom  the  dog  is 
familiar.  But  then  my  own  person  is  well  known — my  very 
speech  will  betray  me,  in  a  camp  where  I  have  played  no 
mean  part  for  many  months." 

"  Both  he  and  thou  shall  be  disguised,  so  as  to  escape 
even  close  examination.  I  tell  thee,"  said  the  Saracen, 
"  that  not  thy  brother  in  arms,  not  thy  brother  in  blood, 
shall  discover  thee,  if  thou  be  guided  by  my  counsels.    Thou 


246  WA  VERLET  NO VELS 

hast  seen  me  do  matters  more  difficult  :  he  that  can  call  the 
dying  from  the  darkness  of  the  shadow  of  death  can  easily 
cast  a  mist  before  the  eyes  of  the  living.  But  mark  me — 
there  is  still  the  condition  annexed  to  this  service,  that  thou 
deliver  a  letter  of  Saladin  to  the  niece  of  the  Melech  Kic, 
whose  name  is  as  difficult  to  our  Eastern  tongue  and  lips  as 
her  beauty  is  delightful  to  our  eyes." 

Sir  Kenneth  paused  before  he  answered,  and  the  Saracen 
observing  his  hesitation,  demanded  of  him,  **If  he  feared  to 
undertake  this  message  ?" 

"  Not  if  there  were  death  in  the  execution,"  said  Sir 
Kenneth  :  *'I  do  but  pause  to  consider  whether  it  consists 
with  my  honor  to  bear  the  letter  of  the  Soldan,  or  with  that 
of  the  Lady  Edith  to  receive  it  from  a  heathen  prince." 

"By  the  head  of  Mohammed  and  by  the  honor  of  a  sol- 
dier, by  the  tomb  at  Mecca  and  by  the  soul  of  my  father," 
said  the  Emir,  ''  I  swear  to  thee  that  the  letter  is  written  in 
all  honor  and  respect.  The  song  of  the  nightingale  will 
sooner  blight  the  rose-bower  she  loves  than  will  the  words 
of  the  Soldan  offend  the  ears  of  the  lovely  kinswoman  of 
England." 

"  Then,"  said  the  knight,  "  I  will  bear  the  Soldan's  letter 
faithfully,  as  if  I  were  his  born  vassal ;  understanding,  that 
beyond  this  simple  act  of  service,  which  I  will  render  with 
fidelity,  from  me  of  all  men  he  can  least  exjDCct  mediation 
or  advice  in  this  his  strange  love-suit." 

"Saladin  is  noble,"  answered  the  Emir,  "and  will  not 
spur  a  generous  horse  to  a  leap  which  he  cannot  achieve. 
Come  with  me  to  my  tent,"  he  added,  "  and  thou  shalt  be 
presently  equipped  with  a  disguise  as  unsearchable  as  mid- 
night ;  so  thou  may'st  walk  the  camp  of  the  Nazarenes  as 
if  thou  hadst  on  thy  finger  the  signet  of  Giaougi."* 

•Perhaps  the  same  with  Gyges. 


CHAPTEK  XXIV 

A  grain  of  dust, 
Soiling  our  cup,  will  make  our  sense  reject 
fastidiously  the  draught  which  we  did  thirst  for ; 
A  rusted  nail,  placed  near  the  faithful  compass, 
Will  sway  it  from  the  truth,  and  wreck  the  argosy. 
Even  this  small  cause  of  anger  and  disgust 
Will  break  the  bonds  of  amity  'mongst  princes, 
And  wreck  their  noblest  purposes. 

Tlie  Crusade. 

The  reader  can  now  have  little  donbt  who  the  Ethiopian 
slave  really  was,  with  what  purpose  he  had  sought  Eichard's 
camp,  and  wherefore  aud  with  what  hope  he  now  stood  close 
to  the  per,5on  of  that  monarch,  as,  surrounded  by  his  valiant 
peers  of  E  igland  and  Normandy,  Coeur-de-Lion  stood  on  the 
summit  of  St.  George's  Mount,  witli  the  banner  of  England 
by  his  side,  borne  by  the  most  goodly  person  in  the  army, 
being  his  own  natural  brother,  William  with  the  Long  Sword, 
Earl  of  Salisbury,  the  offspring  of  Henry  the  Second's  amour 
with  the  celebrated  Eosamond  of  Woodstock. 

From  several  expressions  in  tlie  King's  conversation  with 
Neville  on  the  preceding  day,  the  Nubian  was  left  in  anxious 
doubt  whether  his  disguise  had  not  been  penetrated,  espe- 
cially as  that  the  King  seemed  to  be  aware  in  what  manner 
the  agency  of  the  dog  was  expected  to  discover  the  thief 
who  stole  the  banner,  although  the  circumstance  of  such  an 
animal's  having  been  wounded  on  the  occasion  had  been 
scarce  mentioned  in  Eichard's  presence.  Nevertheless,  as 
'he  King  continued  to  treat  him  in  no  other  manner  than 
ais  exterior  required,  the  Nubian  remained  uncertain  whether 
he  was  or  was  not  discovered,  and  determined  not  to  throw 
his  disguise  aside  voluntarily. 

Meanwhile,  the  powers  of  the  various  Crusading  princes, 
arrayed  under  their  royal  and  princely  leaders,  swept  in  long 
order  around  the  base  of  the  little  mound  ;  and  as  those  of 
each  different  country  passed  by,  their  commanders  advanced 
a  step  or  two  up  the  hill,  and  made  a  signal  of  courtesy  to 
Eichard  and  to  the  standard  of  England,  "  in  sign  of  regard 
aud  amity/'  as  the  protocol  of  the  ceremony  heedfully  ex 


248  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

pressed  it,  "  not  of  subjection  or  vassalage."  The  spiritual 
dignitaries,  who  in  those  days  veiled  not  their  bonnets  to 
created  being,  bestowed  on  the  King  and  his  symbol  of  com- 
mand their  blessing  instead  of  rendering  obeisance. 

Thus  the  long  files  marched  on,  and,  diminished  as  they 
were  by  so  many  causes,  appeared  still  an  iron  host,  to  whom 
the  conquest  of  Palestine  might  seem  an  easy  task.  The 
soldiers,  inspired  by  the  consciousness  of  united  strength, 
sate  erect  in  their  steel  saddles,  while  it  seemed  that  the 
trumpets  sounded  more  cheerfully  shrill,  and  the  steeds,  re- 
freshed by  rest  and  provender,  chafed  on  the  bit,  and  trode 
the  ground  more  proudly.  On  they  passed,  troop  after 
troop,  banners  waving,  spears  glancing,  plumes  dancing,  in 
long  perspective — ahost  composed  of  different  nations,  com- 
plexions, languages,  arms,  and  appearances,  but  all  fired,  for 
the  time,  with  the  holy  yet  romantic  purpose  of  rescuing  the 
distressed  daughter  of  Zion  from  her  thraldom,  and  redeem- 
ing the  sacred  earth,  which  more  than  mortal  had  trodden, 
from  the  yoke  of  the  unbelieving  pagan.  And  it  must  be 
owned,  that  if,  in  other  circumstances,  the  species  of  courtesy 
rendered  to  the  King  of  England  by  so  many  warriors  from 
whom  he  claimed  no  natural  allegiance  had  in  it  something 
that  might  have  been  thought  humiliating,  yet  the  nature 
and  cause  of  the  war  were  so  fitted  to  his  pre-eminently 
chivalrous  character  and  renowned  feats  in  arms,  that  claims 
which  might  elsewhere  have  been  urged  were  there  forgot- 
ten, and  the  brave  did  willing  homage  to  the  bravest,  in  an 
expedition  where  the  most  undaunted  and  energetic  courage 
was  necessary  to  success. 

The  good  King  was  seated  on  horseback  about  half-way  up 
the  mount,  a  morion  on  his  head,  surmounted  by  a  crovvn, 
which  left  his  manly  features  exposed  to  public  view,  as  with 
Pool  and  considerate  eye  he  perused  each  rank  as  it  ])assed 
^lim,  and  returned  the  salutation  of  the  leaders.  His  tunic 
was  of  sky-colored  velvet,  covered  with  plates  of  silver,  and 
his  hose  of  crimson  silk,  slashed  with  cloth  of  gold.  By 
his  side  stood  the  seeming  Ethiopian  slave,  holding  the  noble 
dog  in  a  leash,  such  as  was  used  in  woodcraft.  It  was  a  cir- 
cumstance which  attracted  no  notice,  for  many  of  the  princes 
of  the  Crusade  had  introduced  black  slaves  into  their  house- 
hold, in  imitation  of  the  barbarous  splendor  of  the  Saracens. 
Over  the  King's  head  streamed  the  large  folds  of  the  banner, 
and,  as  he  looked  to  it  from  time  to  time,  he  seemed  to  re- 
gard a  ceremony,  indifferent  to  himself  personally,  as  impor- 
tant, when  considered  as  atoning  an  indignity  offered  to  the 


THE  TALISMAN  249 

kingdom  which  he  ruled.  In  the  background,  and  on  tiie 
very  summit  of  the  mount,  a  wooden  turret,  erected  for  the 
occasion,  held  the  Queen  Berengaria  and  the  principal  ladies 
of  the  court.  To  this  the  King  looked  from  time  to  time, 
and  then  ever  and  anon  his  eyes  were  turned  on  the  Nubian 
and  the  dog,  but  only  when  such  leaders  approached  as, 
from  circumstances  of  previous  ill-will,  he  suspected  of  being 
accessary  to  the  theft  of  the  standard,  or  whom  he  judged 
capable  of  a  crime  so  mean. 

Thus,  he  did  not  look  in  that  direction  when  Philip  Augus- 
tus of  France  approached  at  the  head  of  his  splendid  troops 
of  Gallic  chivalry  ;  nay,  he  anticipated  the  motions  of  the 
French  king,  by  descending  the  mount  as  the  latter  came 
up  the  ascent,  so  that  they  met  in  the  middle  space,  and 
blended  their  greetings  so  gracefully  that  it  appeared  they 
met  in  fraternal  equality.  The  sight  of  the  two  greatest 
(jrinces  of  Europe,  in  rank  at  once  and  power,  thus  publicly 
avowing  their  concord,  called  forth  bursts  of  thundering  ac- 
claim from  the  Crusading  host  of  many  miles'  distance,  and 
made  the  roving  Arab  scouts  of  the  desert  alarm  the  camp  of 
Saladin  with  intelligence  that  the  army  of  the  Christians  was 
m  motion.  Yet  who  but  the  King  of  kings  can  read  the 
hearts  of  monarchs  ?  Under  this  smooth  show  of  courtesy, 
Kichard  nourished  displeasure  and  suspicion  against  Philip, 
and  Philip  meditated  withdrawing  himself  and  his  host  from 
the  army  of  the  Cross,  and  leaving  Richard  to  accomplish  or 
fail  in  the  enterprise  with  his  own  unassisted  forces. 

Richard's  demeanor  Avas  different  when  the  dark-armed 
knights  and  squires  of  the  Temple  chivalry  approached — 
men  with  countenances  bronzed  to  Asiatic  blackness  by  the 
suns  of  Palestine,  and  the  admirable  state  of  whose  horses 
and  appointments  far  surpassed  even  that  of  the  choicest 
troops  of  France  and  England.  The  King  cast  a  hasty 
glance  aside,  but  the  Nubian  stood  quiet,  and  his  trusty  dog 
sat  at  his  feet,  watching,  with  a  sagacious  yet  pleased  look, 
the  ranks  which  now  passed  before  them.  The  King's  look 
turned  again  on  the  chivalrous  Templars,  as  the  Grand 
Master,  availing  himself  of  his  mingled  character,  bestowed 
his  benediction  on  Richard  as  a  priest,  instead  of  doing  his 
reverence  as  a  military  leader. 

"  The  misproud  and  amphibious  caitiff  puts  the  monk 
upon  me,"  said  Richard  to  the  Earl  of  Salisbury.  "But, 
Longsword,  we  will  let  it  pass.  A  punctilio  must  not  lose 
Christendom  the  services  of  these  experienced  lances,  because 
their  victories  have  rendered_  them  overweening.     Lo  you. 


250  \VA  VERLEY  NO  VEL 8 

here  comes  our  valiant  adversary,  the  Duke  of  Austria  ;  mark 
his  manner  and  bearing,  Longsword  ;  and  thou,  Nubian  let 
the  hound  have  full  view  of  him.  By  Heaven,  he  brings  his 
buifoons  along  with  him  ! " 

In  fact,  whether  from  habit,  or,  which  is  more  likely,  to 
intimate  contempt  of  the  ceremonial  he  was  about  to  comply 
with,  Leopold  was  attended  by  his  spruchsprecher  and  his 
jester,  and,  as  he  advanced  towards  Richard,  he  wdiistled  in 
what  he  wished  to  be  considered  as  an  indifferent  manner, 
though  his  heavy  features  evinced  the  sullenness,  mixed  with 
fear,  with  which  a  truant  schoolboy  may  be  seen  to  approach 
his  master.  As  the  reluctant  dignitary  made,  with  discomposed 
and  sulky  look,  the  obeisance  required,  the  spruchsprecher 
shook  his  baton,  and  proclaimed,  like  a  herald,  that,  in 
what  he  was  now  doing,  the  Archduke  of  Austria  was  not 
to  be  held  derogating  from  the  rank  and  privileges  of  a 
sovereign  prince,  to  which  the  jester  answered  with  a  sonor- 
ous "  amen,"  which  provoked  much  laughter  among  the 
bystanders. 

King  Richard  looked  more  than  once  at  the  Nubian  and 
his  dog ;  but  the  former  moved  not,  nor  did  the  latter  strain 
at  the  leash,  so  that  Richard  said  to  the  slave  with  some 
scorn,  "  Thy  success  in  this  enterprise,  my  sable  friend,  even 
though  thou  hast  brought  thy  hound's  sagacity  to  back  thine 
own,  will  not,  I  fear,  place  thee  high  in  the  rank  of  wizards, 
or  much  augment  thy  merits  towards  our  person." 

The  Nubian  answered,  as  usual,  only  by  a  lowly  obeisance. 

Meantime  the  troops  of  the  ]\Iarquis  of  Montserrat  next 
passed  in  order  before  the  King  of  England.  That  powerful 
and  wily  baron,  to  make  the  greater  display  of  his  foi-ces, 
had  divided  them  into  two  bodies.  At  the  head  of  the  first, 
consisting  of  his  vassals  and  followers,  and  levied  from  his 
Syrian  possessions,  came  his  brother  Enguerrand,  and  he 
himself  followed,  leading  on  a  gallant  band  of  twelve  hundred 
Stradiots,  a  kind  of  light  cavalry  raised  by  the  Venetians  in 
their  Dalmatian  joossessions,  and  of  which  they  had  entrusted 
the  command  to  the  Marquis,  with  whom  the  republic  had 
many  bonds  of  connection.  These  Stradiots  were  clothed  in 
a  fashion  partly  European,  but  partaking  chiefly  of  the  East- 
ern fashion.  They  wore,  indeed,  short  hauberks,  but  had 
over  them  parti-colored  tunics  of  rich  stuffs,  with  large  wide 
pantaloons  and  half-boots.  On  their  heads  were  straight  up- 
right caps,  similar  to  those  of  the  Greeks,  and  they  carried 
small  round  targets,  bows  and  arrows,  scimitars,  and  poniards. 
They  were  mounted  on  horses,  carefully  selected,  and  well- 


THE  TALISMAN  251 

maintained  at  the  expense  of  the  state  of  Venice  ;  their 
saddles  and  appointments  resembled  those  of  the  Turks,  and 
they  rode  in  the  same  manner,  with  sliort  stirrups  and  upon 
a  high  seat.  These  troops  were  of  great  use  in  skirmishing 
with  the  Arabs,  though  unable  to  engage  in  close  combat, 
like  the  iron-sheathed  men-at-arms  of  Western  and  Northern 
Europe. 

Before  this  goodly  band  came  Conrade,  in  the  same  garb 
with  the  Stradiots,  but  of  such  rich  stuff  that  he  seemed  to 
blaze  with  gold  and  silver,  and  the  milk-white  plume  fastened 
in  his  cap  by  a  clasp  of  diamonds  seemed  tall  enough  to  sweep 
the  clouds.  The  noble  steed  which  he  reined  bounded  and 
caracoled,  and  displayed  his  spirit  and  agility  in  a  manner 
which  might  have  troubled  a  less  admirable  horseman  than 
the  Marquis,  who  gracefully  ruled  him  with  the  one  hand, 
while  the  other  displayed  the  baton,  whose  predominancy 
over  the  ranks  which  he  led  seemed  equally  absolute.  Yet 
his  authority  over  the  Stradiots  was  more  in  show  than  in 
i  substance  ;  for  there  paced  beside  him,  on  an  ambling  palfrey 
I  of  soberest  mood,  a  little  old  man,  dressed  entirely  in  black, 
without  beard  or  mustachios,  and  having  an  appearance 
'  altogether  mean  and  insignificant,  when  compared  with  the 
blaze  of  splendor  around  him.  But  this  mean-looking  old 
man  was  one  of  those  deputies  whom  the  Venetian  govern- 
ment sent  into  camps  to  overlook  the  conduct  of  the  generals 
to  whom  the  leading  was  consigned,  and  to  maintain  thar; 
jealous  system  of  espial  and  control  which  had  long  distin- 
guished the  policy  of  the  republic. 

Conrade,  who,  by  cultivating  Richard's  humor,  had  at- 
tained a  certain  degree  of  favor  with  him,  no  sooner  was 
,  come  within  his  ken  than  the  King  of  England  descended 
a  step  or  two  to  meet  him,  exclaiming,  at  the  same  time, 
"  Ha,  Lord  Marquis,  thou  at  the  head  of  the  fleet  Stradiots, 
and  thy  black  shadow  attending  thee  as  usual,  whether  the 
,  sun  shines  or  not !  May  not  one  ask  thee  whether  the  rule 
j  of  the  troops  remains  with  the  shadow  or  the  substance  ?" 

Conrade  was  commencing  his  reply  with  a  smile,  when 
Roswal,  the  noble  hound,  uttering  a  furious  and  savage  yell, 
sprung  forward.  The  Nubian,  at  the  same  time,  slipped 
the  leash,  and  the  hound,  rushing  on,  leaped  upon  Conrade's 
noble  charger,  and  seizing  the  Marquis  by  the  throat,  pulled 
him  down  from  the  saddle.  The  plumed  rider  lay  rolling 
on  the  sand,  and  the  frightened  horse  fled  in  wild  career 
through  the  camp. 

"  Thy  hound  hath  pulled  down  the  right  quarry,  I  war- 


252    .  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

rant  him,"  said  the  King  to  the  lS"ubiaii,  "  and  I  vow  to  St. 
George  he  is  a  stag  of  ten  tynes.  Pluck  the  dog  oif,  lest  he 
throttle  him/' 

The  Ethiopian  accordingly,  though  not  without  difficulty, 
disengaged  the  dog  from  Conrade,  and  fastened  him  up,  still 
highly  excited  and  struggling  in  the  leash.  Meanwhile, 
many  crowded  to  the  spot,  especially  followers  of  Conrade 
and  oflficers  of  the  Stradiots,  who,  as  they  saw  their  leader 
lie  gazing  wildly  on  the  sky,  raised  him  up  amid  a  tumul- 
tuary cry  of  "  Cut  the  slave  and  his  hound  to  pieces  !" 

But  the  voice  of  Richard,  lond  and  sonorous,  was  heard 
clear  above  all  other  exclamations.  "He  dies  the  death 
who  injures  the  hound.  He  hath  but  done  his  duty,  after 
the  sagacity  with  which  God  and  nature  have  endowed  the 
brave  animal.  Stand  forward  for  a  false  traitor,  thou, 
Conrade  Marquis  of  Montserrat.     I  impeach  thee  of  treason." 

Several  of  the  Syrian  leaders  had  now  come  up,  and  Con- 
rade, vexation,  and  shame,  and  confusion  struggling  with 
passion  in  his  manner  and  voice,  exclaimed,  "  What  means 
this  ?  With  what  am  I  charged  ?  Why  this  base  usage 
and  these  reproachful  terms  ?  Is  this  the  league  of  concord 
which  England  renewed  but  so  lately  ?  " 

"  Are  the  princes  of  the  Crusade  turned  hares  or  deers 
in  the  eyes  of  King  Richard,  that  he  should  slip  hounds  on 
them  ?"  said  the  sepulchral  voice  of  the  Grand  Master  of 
the  Templars. 

"  It  must  be  some  singular  accident — some  fatal  mistake," 
said  Philip  of  France,  who  rode  up  at  the  same  moment. 

"  Some  deceit  of  the  Enemv,"  said  the  Archbishop  of 
Tyre. 

"  A  stratagem  of  the  Saracens,"  cried  Henry  of  Cham- 
pagne. *'  It  were  well  to  hang  up  the  dog,  and  put  the  slave 
to  the  torture." 

''Let  no  man  lay  hand  upon  them,"  said  Richard,  ''as 
he  loves  his  own  life.  Conrade,  stand  forth,  if  thou  darest, 
and  deny  the  accusation  which  this  mnte  animal  hath  in 
his  noble  instinct  brought  against  thee,  of  injury  done  to 
him  and  foul  scorn  to  England  ?" 

"  I  never  touched  the  banner,"  said  Conrade  liastily. 

"  Thy  words  betray  thee,  Conrade  !"  said  Richard  ;  "  for 
how  didst  thou  know,  save  from  conscious  guilt,  that  the 
question  is  concerning  the  banner  ?" 

"  Hast  thou  then  not  kept  the  camp  in  turmoil  on  that 
and  no  other  score  ?"  answered  Conrade  ;  "and  dost  thou 
impute  to  a  prince  and  an  ally  a  crime  which,  after  all,  was 


THE  TALISMAN  253 

probably  committed  by  some  paltry  felon  for  the  sake  of  the 
gold  thread  ?  Or  wouldst  thou  not  impeach  a  confederate 
on  the  credit  of  a  dog  ?" 

By  this  time  the  alarm  was  becoming  general,  so  that 
Philip  of  France  interposed. 

'*  Princes  and  nobles/'  he  said,  ''you  speak  in  presence 
of  those  whose  swords  will  soon  be  at  the  throats  of  each 
other,  if  they  hear  their  leaders  at  such  terms  together. 
In  the  name  of  Heaven,  let  us  draw  off,  each  his  own  troops, 
into  their  separate  quarters,  and  ourselves  meet  an  hour 
hence  in  the  pavilion  of  council,  to  take  some  order  in  this 
new  state  of  confusion.*' 

"Content,"  said  King  Eichard,  "though  I  should  have 
liked  to  have  interrogated  that  caitiff  while  his  gay  doublet 
was  yet  bemirched  with  sand.  But  the  pleasure  of  France 
shall  be  ours  in  this  matter." 

The  leaders  separated  as  was  proposed,  each  prince  plac- 
ing himself  at  the  head  of  his  own  forces  ;  and  then  was 
heard  on  all  sides  the  crying  of  war-cries,  and  the  sounding 
of  gathering  notes  upon  bugles  and  trumpets,  by  which  the 
different  stragglers  were  summoned  to  their  prince's  banner  ; 
and  the  troops  were  shortly  seen  in  motion,  each  taking 
different  routes  through  the  camp  to  their  own  quarters. 
But  although  any  immediate  act  of  violence  was  thus  pre- 
vented, yet  the  accident  which  had  taken  place  dwelt  on 
every  mind  ;  and  those  foreigners,  who  had  that  morning 
hailed  Richard  as  the  worthiest  to  lead  their  army,  now  re- 
sumed their  nrejudices  against  his  pride  and  intolerance, 
while  the  English,  conceiving  the  honor  of  their  country 
connected  with  the  quarrel,  of  which  various  reports  had 
'  gone  about,  considered  the  natives  of  other  countries  jealous 
of  the  fame  of  England  and  her  king,  and  disposed  to  under- 
mine it  by  the  meanest  arts  of  intrigue.  Many  and  various 
were  the  rumors  spread  upon  the  occasion,  and  there  was  one 
which  averred  that  the  Queen  and  her  ladies  had  been  much 
alarmed  by  the  tumult,  and  that  one  of  them  had  swooned. 

The  council  assembled  at  the  appointed  hour.  Conrade 
had  in  the  meanwhile  laid  aside  his  dishonored  dress,  and 
with  it  the  shame  and  confusion  which,  in  spite  of  his  talents 
and  promptitude,  had  at  first  overwhelmed  him,  owing  to 
the  strangeness  of  the  accident  and  suddenness  of  the  accu- 
sation. He  was  now  robed  like  a  prince,  and  entered  the 
council-chamber  attended  by  the  Archduke  of  Austria,  the 
Grand  Masters  both  of  the  Temple  and  of  the  Order  of  St. 
John,  and  several  other  potentates,  who  made  a  show  of 


254  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

supporting  him  and  defending  his  cause,  chiefly  perhaps 
from  political  motives,  or  because  they  themselves  nourished 
a  personal  enmity  against  Eichard. 

This  appearance  of  union  in  favor  of  Conrade  was  far  from 
influencing  the  King  of  England.  He  entered  the  council 
with  his  usual  indifference  of  manner,  and  in  the  same  dresa 
in  which  he  had  just  alighted  from  horseback.  He  cast  a 
careless  and  somewhat  scornful  glance  on  the  leaders,  who 
had  with  studied  affectation  arranged  themselves  around 
Conrade,  as  if  owning  his  cause,  and  in  the  most  direct  terms 
charged  Conrade  of  Montserrat  with  having  stolen  the 
banner  of  England,  and  wounded  the  faithful  animal  who 
stood  in  its  defense. 

Conrade  arose  boldly  to  answer,  and  in  despite,  as  he  ex- 
pressed himself,  of  man  and  brute,  king  or  dog,  avouched 
his  innocence  of  the  crime  charged. 

"■  Brother  of  England,'^  saicl  Philip,  who  willingly  as- 
sumed the  character  of  moderator  of  the  assembly,  "this  is 
an  unusual  impeachment.  We  do  not  hear  you  avouch  your 
own  knowledge  of  this  matter,  farther  than  your  belief  rest- 
ing upon  the  demeanor  of  this  hound  towards  the  Marquis 
of  Montserrat.  Surely  the  word  of  a  knight  and  a  prince 
should  bear  him  out  against  the  barking  of  a  cur  ?" 

"  Royal  brother, ''  returned  Richard,  ''recollect  that  the 
Almighty,  who  gave  the  dog  to  be  companion  of  our 
pleasures  and  our  toils,  hath  invested  him  with  a  nature 
noble  and  incapable  of  deceit.  He  forgets  neither  friend 
nor  foe,  remembers,  and  with  accuracy,  both  beneflt  and 
injury.  He  hath  a  share  of  man's  intelligence,  but  no  share 
of  man's  falsehood.  You  may  bribe  a  soldier  to  slay  a  man 
with  his  sword,  or  a  witness  to  take  life  by  false  accusation  ; 
but  you  cannot  make  a  hound  tear  his  benefactor  :  he  is  the 
friend  of  man,  save  when  man  justly  incurs  his  enmity. 
Dress  yonder  Marquis  in  what  peacock-robes  you  will,  dis- 
guise his  appearance,  alter  his  complexion  with  drugs  and 
washes,  hide  him  amidst  an  hundred  men  ;  I  will  yet  pawn 
my  scepter  that  the  hound  detects  him,  and  expresses  his 
resentment,  as  you  have  this  day  beheld.  This  is  no  new 
incident,  although  a  strange  one.  Murderers  and  robbers 
have  been,  ere  now,  convicted,  and  suffered  death  under 
such  evidence,  and  men  have  said  that  the  finger  of  God  was 
in  it.  In  thine  own  land,  royal  brother,  and  upon  such  an 
occasion,  the  matter  was  tried  by  a  solemn  duel  betwixt  the 
man  and  the  dog,  as  appellant  and  defendant  in  a  challenge 
of  murder.     The  dog  was  victorious ;  the   man  was  pun- 


THE  TALISMAN  255 

ished,  and  the  crime  was  confessed.  Credit  me,  royal 
brother,  that  hidden  crimes  have  of  ten  been  brought  to  light 
by  the  testimony  even  of  inanimate  substances,  not  to  men- 
tion animals  far  inferior  in  instinctive  sagacity  to  the  dog, 
who  is  the  friend  and  companion  of  our  race." 

"  Such  a  duel  there  hath  indeed  been,  royal  brother,"  an- 
swered Philip,  "  and  that  in  the  reign  of  one  of  our  prede- 
cessors, to  whom  God  be  gracious.  But  it  was  in  the  olden 
time,  nor  can  we  hold  it  a  precedent  fitting  for  this  occasion. 
The  defendant  in  that  case  was  a  private  gentleman,  of  small 
rank  or  respect  ;  his  offensive  weapons  were  only  a  club,  his 
defensive  a  leathern  jerkin.  But  we  cannot  degrade  a  prince 
to  the  disgrace  of  using  such  rude  arms,  or  to  the  ignominy 
of  such  a  combat." 

"  I  never  meant  that  you  should,"  said  King  Eichaid  : 
''  it  were  foul  play  to  hazard  the  good  hound's  life  against 
that  of  such  a  double-faced  traitor  as  this  Conrade  hath 
proved  himself.  But  there  lies  our  own  glove  ;  we  appeal 
him  to  the  combat  in  respect  of  the  evidence  we  brought 
forth  against  him.  A  king,  at  least,  is  more  than  the  mate 
of  a  marquis." 

Conrade  made  no  hasty  effort  to  seize  on  the  pledge  which 
Richard  cast  into  the  middle  of  the  assembly,  and  King 
Philip  had  time  to  reply,  ere  the  Marquis  made  a  motion  to 
lift  the  glove. 

"  A  king,"  said  he  of  France,  *Ms  as  much' more  than  a 
match  for  the  Marquis  Conrade  as  a  dog  would  be  less. 
Royal  Richard,  this  cannot  be  permitted.  You  are  the 
leader  of  our  expedition — the  sword  and  buckler  of  Chris- 
tendom." 

''I  protest  against  such  a  combat,"  said  the  Venetian /?rof- 
editore.  "until  the  King  of  England  shall  have  repaid  the 
fifty  thousand  bezants  which  he  is  indebted  to  the  republic. 
It  is  enough  to  be  threatened  with  loss  of  our  debt,  should 
our  debtor  fall  by  the  hands  of  the  pagans,  without  the  addi- 
tional risk  of  his  being  slain  in  brawls  amongst  Christians 
concerning  dogs  and  banners." 

"  And  I,"  said  William  with  the  Long  Sword,  Earl  of 
Salisbury,  ''protest  in  my  turn  against  my  royal  brother 
periling  his  life,  which  is  the  property  of  the  people  of  Eng- 
land, in  such  a  cause.  Here,  noble  brother,  receive  back 
your  glove,  and  think  only  as  if  the  wind  had  blown  it  from 
your  hand.  Mine  shall  lie  in  its  stead.  A  king's  son, 
though  with  the  bar  sinister  on  his  shield,  is  at  least  a  match 
lor  this  marmoset  of  a  marquis." 


256  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Princes  and  nobles,"  said  Conrade,  "  I  will  not  accept 
King  Richard's  defiance.  He  hath  been  chosen  our  leader 
against  the  Saracens,  and  if  his  conscience  can  answer  the 
accusation  of  provoking  an  ally  to  the  field  on  a  quarrel  so 
frivolous,  mine,  at  least,  cannot  endure  the  reproach  of  ac- 
cepting it.  But  touching  his  bastard  brother,  William  of 
Woodstock,  or  against  any  other  who  shall  adopt,  or  shall 
dare  to  stand  godfather  to,  this  most  false  charge,  I  will 
defy  my  honor  in  the  lists,  and  prove  whosoever  impeaches 
it  a  false  liar." 

"  The  Marquis  of  Monsterrat,"  said  the  Archbishop  of 
Tyre,  '"'  hath  spoken  like  a  wise  and  moderate  gentleman ; 
and  methinks  this  controversy  might,  without  dishonor  to 
any  party  end  at  t'lis  point." 

"  Methinks  it  might  so  terminate,"  said  the  King  of  France, 
"  provided  King  Kichard  will  recall  his  accusation,  as  made 
upon  over-slight  grounds." 

"  Philip  of  France,"  answered  Coeur-de-Lion,  "my  words 
shall  never  do  my  thoughts  so  much  injury.  I  have  charged 
yonder  Conrade  as  a  thief,  who,  under  cloud  of  night, 
stole  from  its  place  the  emblem  of  England's  dignity.  I  still 
believe  and  charge  him  to  be  such  ;  and  when  a  day  is  ap- 
pointed for  the  combat,  doubt  not  that,  since  Conrade  de- 
clines to  meet  us  in  person,  I  will  find  a  champion  to  appear 
in  support  of  my  challenge  ;  for  thou,  William,  must  not 
thrust  thy  long  sword  into  this  quarrel  without  our  special 
license." 

"  Since  my  rank  makes  me  arbiter  in  this  most  unhappy 
matter,"  said  Philip  of  France,  "  I  appoint  the  fifth  day. 
from  hence  for  the  decision  thereof,  by  way  of  combat,  ac- 
cording to  knightly  usage — Richard  King  of  England  to 
appear  by  his  cliampion  as  appellant,  and  Conrade  Marquis 
of  Montserrat  in  his  own  person  as  defendant.  Yet  I  own, 
I  know  not  where  to  find  neutral  ground  where  such  a  quarrel 
may  be  fought  out  ;  for  it  must  not  be  in  the  neighborhood 
of  this  camp,  where  the  soldiers  would  make  faction  on  the 
difi'erent  sides." 

"  It  were  well,"  said  Richard,  ''to  apply  to  the  generosity 
of  the  royal  Saladin,  since,  heathen  as  he  is,  I  have  never 
known  knight  more  fulfilled  of  nobleness,  or  to  whose  good 
faith  we  may  so  peremptorily  entrust  ourselves.  I  speak  thus 
for  those  who  may  be  doubtful  of  mishap ;  for  myself, 
wherever  I  see  my  foe,  I  make  that  spot  my  battle- 
ground.*' 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Philijr  "  ''  we  will  make  this  matter  known 


THE  TALISMAN  257 

to  Saladin,  although  it  be  showing  to  an  enemy  the  unhappy 
spirit  of  discord  which  we  would  willingly  hide  from  even 
ourselves,  were  it  possible.  Meanwhile,  I  dismiss  this  as- 
sembly, and  charge  you  all,  as  Christian  men  and  noble 
knights,  that  ye  let  this  unhappy  feud  breed  no  farther 
brawling  in  the  camp,  but  regard  it  as  a  thing  solemnly  re- 
ferred to  the  judgment  of  God,  to  whom  each  of  you  should 
pray  that  He  will  dispose  of  victory  in  the  combat  according 
to  the  truth  of  the  quarrel ;  and  therewith  may  His  will  be 
done  ! " 

*' Amen — amen  !"  was  answered  on  all  sides;  while  the 
Templar  whispered  the  Marquis,  "  Conrade,  wilt  thou  not 
add  a  petition  to  be  delivered  from  the  power  of  the  dog,  as 
the  Psalmist  hath  it  ?  " 

'' Peace,  thou I"  replied    the  Marquis;   ''there  is  a 

revealing  demon  abroad,  which  may  report,  amongst  other 
tidings,  how  far  thou  dost  carry  the  motto  of  thy  order — 
Feriatur  leo." 

"Thou  wilt  stand  the  brunt  of  challenge?"  said  the 
Templar. 

"  Doubt  me  not,"  said  Conrade.  "  I  will  not,  indeed,  have 
willingly  met  the  iron  arm  of  Eichard  himself,  and  I  shame 
not  to  confess  that  I  rejoice  to  be  free  of  his  encounter.  But, 
from  his  bastard  brother  downward,  the  man  breathes  not  in 
his  ranks  whom  I  fear  to  meet." 

"  It  is  well  you  are  so  confident,"  continued  the  Templar; 
"and  in  that  case  the  fangs  of  yonder  hound  have  done  more 
to  dissolve  this  league  of  princes  than  either  thy  devices  or 
the  dagger  of  the  Charegite.  Seest  thou  liow,  under  a  brow 
studiously  overclouded,  Philip  cannot  conceal  the  satisfac- 
tion which  he  feels  at  the  prospect  of  release  from  the  alliance 
which  sat  so  heavy  on  him  ?  Mark  how  Henry  of  Champagne 
smiles  to  himself,  like  a  sparkling  goblet  of  his  own  wine  ; 
and  see  the  chuckling  delight  of  Austria,  who  thinks  his 
quarrel  is  about  to  be  avenged,  without  risk  or  trouble  of  his 
own.  Hush,  he  approaches.  A  most  grievous  chance,  most 
royal  Austria,  that  these  breaches  in  the  walls  of  our 
Zion " 

"  If  thou  meanest  this  Crusade," -replied  the  Duke,  "\ 
would  it  were  crumbled  to  pieces,  and  each  were  safe  at  home  I 
I  speak  this  in  confidence,  ' 

"  But,"  said  the  Marquis  of  Montserrat,   "  to  think  this 

disunion  should  be  made  by  the  hands  of  King  Richard,  for 

whose  pleasure  we  have  been  contented  to  endure  so  much, 

and  to  whom  we  have  been  as  submissive  as  slaves  to  a  master, 

17 


258  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

in  hopes  that  he  would  use  his  valor  against  our  enemies, 
instead  of  exercising  it  upon  our  friends  !  " 

"  I  see  not  that  he  is  so  much  more  valorous  than  others," 
said  the  Archdui^e.  "  I  believe,  had  the  noble  Marquis  met 
him  in  the  lists,  he  would  have  had  the  better  ;  for,  though 
the  islander  deals  heavy  blows  with  the  pole-ax,  he  is  not  so 
very  dexterous  with  the  lance.  I  should  have  cared  little  to 
have  met  him  myself  on  our  old  quarrel,  had  the  weal  of 
Christendom  permitted  to  sovereign  princes  to  breathe  them- 
selves in  the  lists.  And  if  thou  desirest  it,  noble  Marquis,  I 
will  myself  be  your  godfather  in  this  combat." 

"  And  I  also,"  said  the  Grand  Master. 

"  Come,  then,  and  take  your  nooning  in  our  tent,  noble 
sirs,"  said  the  Duke,  ''and  we'll  speak  of  this  business  over 
K)me  right  Nierenstein." 

They  entered  together  accordingly. 

"  What  said  our  patron  and  these  great  folks  together  ?" 
said  Jonas  Schwanker  to  his  companion,  the  spruchsprecher, 
who  had  used  the  freedom  to  press  nigh  to  his  master  when 
the  council  was  dismissed,  while  the  jester  waited  at  a  more 
respectful  distance. 

"  Servant  of  folly,"  said  the  spruchsprecher,  "  moderate 
thy  curiosity  ;  it  beseems  not  that  I  should  tell  to  thee  the 
counsels  of  our  master." 

"  Man  of  wisdom,  you  mistake,"  answered  Jonas  :  "  we 
are  both  the  constant  attendants  on  our  patron,  and  it  con- 
cerns us  alike  to  know  whether  thou  or  I — wisdom  or  folly- 
have  the  deeper  interest  in  him." 

''  He  told  to  the  Marquis,"  answered  the  spruchsprecher, 
"and  to  the  Grand  Master,  that  he  was  aweary  of  these  wars, 
and  would  be  glad  he  was  safe  at  home." 

"  That  is  a  drawn  cast,  and  counts  for  nothing  in  the 
game,"  said  the  jester  ;  *'it  was  most  wise  to  think  thus,  but 
great  folly  to  tell  it  to  others.     Proceed." 

"Ha,  hem  !"  said  the  spruchsprecher ;  "he  next  said  to 
them,  that  Eichard  was  not  more  valorous  than  others,  or 
over-dexterous  in  the  tilt-yard." 

"  Woodcock  of  my  side,"  said  Schwanker  ;  "  this  was  egre- 
gious folly.     What  next?" 

"Nay,  I  am  something  oblivious,"  replied  the  man  of  wis- 
dom ;  "  he  invited  them  to  a  goblet  of  Nierenstein." 

"  That  hath  a  show  of  wisdom  in  it,"  said  Jonas,  "thou 
may'st  mark  it  to  thy  credit  in  the  meantime  ;  but  an  he 
drink  too  much,  as  is  most  likely,  I  will  have  it  pass  to  mine. 
Anything  more?" 


THE  TALISMAN  259 

"N'othing  worth  memory,"  answered  the  orator,  "only  he 
wished  he  had  taken  the  occasion  to  meet  Kichard  in  the 
lists." 

"  Out  upon  it — out  upon  it  !  "  said  Jonas  ;  "  this  is  such 
dotage  of  folly,  that  I  am  wellnigh  ashamed  of  winning  the 
game  by  it.  Ne'ertheless,  fool  as  he  is,  we  will  follow  him, 
most  sage  spruchsprecher,  and  have  our  share  of  the  wine  of 
Nierenstein." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

Yet  this  inconstancy  is  such 

As  thou,  too,  shalt  adore  ; 
I  could  not  love  thee,  love,  so  much, 
,  Loved  I  not  honor  Tnore. 

Montrose's  Lines.* 

When  King  Richard  returned  to  his  tent,  he  commanded 
the  Nubian  to  be  brought  before  him.  He  entered  with  his 
usual  ceremonial  reverence,  and,  having  prostrated  himself, 
remained  standing  before  tlieKing,  in  the  attitude  of  a  slave 
awaiting  the  orders  of  his  master.  It  was  perhaps  well  for 
him  that  the  preservation  of  his  character  required  his  eyes 
to  be  fixed  on  the  ground,  since  the  keen  glance  with  which 
Richard  for  some  time  surveyed  him  in  silence  would,  if 
fully  encountered,  have  been  difficult  to  sustain. 

""^Thou  canst  well  of  woodcraft,^' said  the  King,  after  a 
pause,  "and  hast  started  thy  game  and  brought  him  to  bay 
as  ably  as  if  Tristrem  f  himself  had  taught  tliee.  But  this  is 
not  all  :  he  must  be  brought  down  at  force.  I  myself  would 
have  liked  to  have  leveled  my  hunting  spear  at  him.  There 
are,  it  seems,  respects  which  prevent  this.  Thou  art  about 
to  return  to  the  camp  of  Soldan,  bearing  a  letter,  requiring 
of  his  courtesy  to  appoint  neutral  ground  for  the  deed  of 
chivalry,  and,  should  it  consist  with  his  pleasure,  to  concur 
with  us  in  witnessing  it.  Now,  speak  conjecturally,  we 
think  thou  might'st  find  in  that  camp  some  cavalier  who, 
for  the  love  of  truth  and  his  own  augmentation  of  honor, 
will  do  battle  with  this  same  traitor  of  Monserrat  ?  " 

The  Nubian  raised  his  eyes  and  fixed  them  on  the  King 
with  a  look  of  eager  ardor  ;  then  raised  them  to  Heaven  with 
such  solemn  gratitude,  that  the  water  soon  glistened  in  them  ; 
then  bent  his  head,  as  affirming  what  Richard  desired,  and 
resumed  his  usual  posture  of  submissive  attention. 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  King;  "and  I  see  thy  desire  to 
oblige  me  in  this  matter.  And  herein,  I  must  needs  say, 
lies  the  excellence  of  such  a  servant  as  thou,  who  hast  not 
speech  either  to  debate  our  purpose  or  to  require  explanation 
of  what  we  have  determined.     An  English  serving-man  in 

*  See  Note  9.  f  See  Sir  Tristrem.    Note  10. 

260 


THE  TALISMAN  261 

thy  place,  had  given  me  his  dogged  advice  to  trust  the  com- 
bat with  some  good  lance  of  my  household,  who,  from  my 
brother  Longsword  downwards,  are  all  on  fire  to  do  battle  in 
my  cause  ;  and  a  chattering  Frenchman  had  made  a  thou- 
sand attempts  to  discover  wherefore  I  look  for  a  champion 
from  the  camp  of  the  infidels.  But  thou,  my  silent  agent, 
canst  do  my  errand  without  questioning  or  comprehending 
't  :  with  thee  to  hear  is  to  obey." 

A  bend  of  the  body,  and  a  genuflection,  were  the  appro 
priate  answer  of  the  Ethiopian  to  these  observations. 

''And  now  to  another  point,"  said  the  King,  and  speaking 
suddenly  and  rapidly.  "Have  you  yet  seen  Edith  Planta- 
genet  ?  " 

The  mute  looked  up  as  in  the  act  of  being  about  to 
speak — nay,  his  lips  had  begun  to  utter  a  distinct  negative — 
when  the  abortive  attempt  died  away  in  the  imperfect  mur- 
murs of  the  dumb. 

•'  Why,  lo  you  there  !"  said  the  King.  *'  The  very  sound 
of  the  name  of  a  royal  maiden,  of  beauty  so  surpassing  as 
that  of  our  lovely  cousin,  seems  to  have  power  enough  well- 
nigli  to  make  the  dumb  speak  !  What  miracles  then  might 
her  eye  work  upon  such  a  subject !  I  will  make  the  experi- 
ment, friend  slave.  Thou  shalt  see  this  choice  beauty  of  our 
court,  and  do  the  errand  of  the  princely  Soldan." 

Again  a  ,]0}'ful  glance,  again  a  genuflection  ;  but,  as  he 
arose,  the  King  laid  his  hand  heavily  on  his  shoulder,  and 
proceeded  with  stern  gravity  thus  :  "  Let  me  in  one  thing 
Avarn  yon,  my  sable  envoy.  Even  if  thou  shouldst  feel  that 
the  kindly  influence  of  her  whom  thou  art  soon  to  behold 
should  loosen  the  bonds  of  thy  tongue,  presently  imprisoned, 
as  the  good  Soldan  expresses  it,  within  the  ivory  walls  of  its 
castle,  beware  how  thou  changest  thy  taciturn  character,  or 
speakesta  word  in  her  presence,  even  if  thy  powers  of  utter- 
ance were  to  be  miraculously  restored.  Believe  me,  that  I 
should  have  thy  tongue  extracted  by  the  roots,  and  its  ivory 
palace,  that  is,  I  presume,  its  range  of  teeth  drawn  out  one 
by  one.     Wherefore,  be  wise  and  silent  stiii." 

"  The  Nubian,  so  soon  as  the  King  had  removed  his  heavy 
grasp  from  his  shoulder,  bent  his  liead,  and  laid  his  hand  on 
his  lips,  in  token  of  silent  obedience. 

But  Richard  again  laid  his  hand  on  him  more  gently,  and 
added,  "  This  behest  we  lay  021  thee  as  on  a  slave.  Wert 
thou  knight  and  gentleman,  Ave  would  require  thine  honor 
'.u  pledge  of  thy  silence,  which  is  one  especial  condition  of 
vir  present  trust.*' 


262  WA  VEBLE  Y  iV  0  VEL  S 

The  Ethiopian  raised  his  body  proudly,  looked  full  at  the 
King,  and  laid  his  right  hand  on  his  heart. 

Eichard  then  summoned  his  chamberlain. 

"Go,  Xeville,"  he  said,  "with  this  slave,  to  the  tent  of 
our  royal  consort,  and  say  it  is  our  pleasure  that  he  have 
an  audience — a  private  audience — of  our  cousin  Edith. 
He  is  charged  with  a  commission  to  her.  Thou  canst  show 
him  the  way  also,  in  case  he  requires  thy  guidance,  though 
thou  may'st  have  observed  it  is  wonderful  how  familiar  he 
already  seems  to  be  with  the  purlieus  of  our  camp.  And 
thou,  loo,  friend  Ethiop,"  the  King  continued,  "what  thou 
dost,  do  quickly,  and  return  hither  within  the  half-hour." 

"  I  stand  discovered,"  thought  the  seeming  Nubian,  as, 
with  downcast  looks  and  folded  arms,  he  followed  the  hasty 
stride  of  Neville  towards  the  tent  of  Queen  Berengaria — "  I 
stand  undoubtedly  discovered  and  unfolded  to  King  Richard  ; 
yet  I  cannot  perceive  that  his  resentment  is  hot  against  me. 
If  I  understand  his  words,  and  surely  it  is  impossible  to  mis- 
interpret them,  he  gives  me  a  noble  chance  of  redeeming  my 
honor  upon  the  crest  of  this  false  marquis,  whose  guilt  1 
read  in  his  craven  eye  and  quivering  lip,  when  the  charge  was 
made  against  him.  Roswal,  faithfully  hast  thou  served  thy 
master,  and  most  dearly  shall  thy  wrong  be  avenged  !  But 
what  is  the  meaning  of  my  present  permission  to  look  upon 
her  whom  I  had  despaired  ever  to  see  again  ?  And  why  or 
how  can  the  royal  Plantagenet  consent  that  I  should  see  his  di- 
vine kinswoman,  either  as  the  messenger  of  the  heathen 
Saladin  or  as  the  guilty  exile  whom  he  so  lately  expelled 
from  his  camp,  his  audacious  avowal  of  the  affection  which 
is  his  pride  being  the  greatest  enhancement  of  his  guilt  ? 
That  Richard  should  consent  to  her  receiving  a  letter  from 
an  infidel  lover,  [andj  by  the  hands  of  one  of  such  dispro- 
portioned  rank,  are  either  of  them  circumstances  equally  in- 
credible, and,  at  the  same  time,  inconsistent  with  each  other. 
But  Richard,  when  unmoved  by  his  heady  passions,  is  liberal, 
generous,  and  truly  noble,  and  as  such  I  will  deal  with  him, 
and  act  according  to  his  instructions,  direct  or  implied, 
seeking  to  know  no  more  than  may  gradually  unfold  itself 
without  my  officious  inquiry.  To  him  who  has  given  me  so 
brave  an  opportunity  to  vindicate  my  tarnished  honor  I  owe 
acquiescence  and  obedience,  and,  painful  as  it  may  be,  the 
debt  shall  be  paid.  And  yet  " — thus  the  proud  swelling  of 
his  heart  farther  suggested — "  Coeur-de-Lion,  as  he  is  called, 
might  have  measured  the  feelings  of  others  by  his  own.  I 
urge  an  address  to  his  kinswoman  !    /,  who  never  spoke  word 


THE  TALISMAN  283 

to  her  when  I  took  a  royal  prize  from  her  hand,  when  I  was 
accounted  not  tlie  lowest  in  feats  of  chivalry  among  the 
defenders  of  the  Cross  !  /approach  her  when  in  a  base  dis- 
guise, and  in  a  servile  habit,  and,  alas  I  when  my  actual 
condition  is  that  of  a  slave,  with  a  spot  of  dishonor  on  that 
which  was  once  my  shield  !  /do  this!  He  little  knows  me. 
Yet  I  thank  him  for  the  opportunity  which  may  make  us  afll 
better  acquainted  with  eacli  other." 

As  he  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  they  paused  before  the 
entrance  of  the  Queen's  pavilion. 

They  were  of  course  admitted  by  the  guards,  and  Neville, 
leaving  the  Nubian  in  a  small  apartment  or  ante-chamber, 
which  was  but  too  well  remembered  by  him,  passed  into  that 
which  was  used  as  the  Queen's  presence-chamber.  He  com- 
municated his  royal  master's  pleasure  in  a  low  and  respectful 
tone  of  voice,  very  different  from  the  bluntness  of  Thomas 
de  Vaux,  to  whom  Richard  was  everything,  and  rest  of  the 
court,  including  Berengaria  herself,  was  notliing.  A  burst 
of  laughter  followed  the  communication  of  his  errand. 

''And  what  like  is  the  Nubian  slave,  who  comes  ambassa- 
dor on  such  an  errand  from  the  Soldan — a  negro,  De  Neville, 
is  he  not  ?  "  said  a  female  voice,  easily  recognized  for  that 
of  Berengaria.  "  A  negro,  is  he  not,  De  Neville,  with  black 
skin,  a  head  curled  like  a  ram's,  a  flat  nose,  and  blubber  lips 
—ha,  worthy  Sir  Henry  ?" 

"  Let  not  your  Grace  forget  the  shin-bones,"  said  another 
voice,  "  bent  outwards  like  the  edge  of  a  Saracen  scimitar." 

"  Rather  like  the  bow  of  a  Cupid,  since  he  comes  upon  a 
lover's  errand,"  said  the  Queen.  "  Gentle  Neville,  thou  art 
ever  prompt  to  pleasure  us  poor  women,  who  have  so  little 
to  pass  away  our  idle  moments.  We  must  see  this  messenger 
of  love.  Turks  and  Moors  have  I  seen  many,  but  negro 
never." 

' '  I  am  created  to  obey  your  Grace's  commands,  so  you  will 
bear  me  out  with  my  sovereign  for  doing  so,"  answered  the 
debonair  knight.  "  Yet,  let  me  assure  your  Grace,  you  will 
see  somewhat  different  from  what  you  expect." 

"  So  much  the  better ;  uglier  yet  than  our  imaginations 
can  fancy,  yet  the  chosen  love-messenger  of  this  gallant 
Soldan  ! '_' 

"  Gracious  madam,'*  said  the  Lady  Calista,  "may  I  im- 
plore you  would  permit  the  good  knight  to  carry  this  mes- 
senger straight  to  the  Lady  Edith,  to  whom  his  credentials 
are  addressed  ?  We  have  already  escaped  hardly  for  such  a 
frolic." 


264  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Escaped  !  "  repeated  the  Queen,  scornfully.  "  Yetthon 
maA'St  be  riglit,  Calista,  in  thy  caution  ;  let  this  Nubian,  as 
thou  callest  him,  first  do  his  errand  to  our  cousin.  Besides, 
he  is  mute  too,  is  lie  not  ?" 

"  He  is,  gracious  madam,"  answered  the  knight. 

"  Royal  sport  have  these  Eastern  ladies,"  said  Berengaria, 
"attended  by  those  before  whom  they  may  say  anything,  yet 
who  can  report  nothing  ;  whereas  in  our  camp,  as  the  prelate 
of  St.  Jude's  is  won't  to  say,  a  bird  of  the  air  will  carry  the 
matter." 

"  Because,"  said  De  Neville,  "your  Grace  forgets  that  you 
speak  within  canvass  walls." 

The  voices  sunk  on  this  observation,  and,  after  a  little 
vv^hispering,  the  English  knight  again  returned  to  the  Ethio- 
pian, and  made  him  a  sign  to  follow.  He  did  so,  and  Neville 
conducted  him  to  a  pavilion,  pitched  somewhat  apart  from 
that  of  the  Queen,  for  the  accommodation,  it  seemed,  of  tlie 
Lady  Edith  and  her  attendants.  One  of  her  Coptic  maidens 
received  the  message  communicated  by  Sir  Henry  Neville, 
and,  in  the  space  of  a  very  few  minutes,  the  Nubian  was 
ushered  into  Edith's  presence,  while  Neville  was  left  on  the 
outside  of  the  tent.  The  slave  who  introduced  him  with- 
drew on  a  signal  from  her  mistress,  and  it  was  with  humilia- 
tion, not  of  the  posture  only  but  of  the  very  inmost  soul,  that 
the  unfortunate  knight,  tlius  strangely  disguised,  threw  him- 
self on  one  knee,  with  looks  bent  on  the  ground,  and  arms 
folded  on  his  bosom,  like  a  criminal  who  expects  his  doom. 
Edith  M'as  clad  in  the  same  manner  as  when  she  received 
King  Eicliard,  her  long  transparent  dark  veil  hanging  around 
her  like  the  shade  of  a  summer  night  on  a  beautiful  land- 
scape, disguising  and  rendering  obscure  the  beauties  which 
it  could  not  hide.  She  held  in  her  hand  a  silver  lamp,  fed 
with  some  aromatic  spirit,  which  burned  with  unusual  bright- 
ness. 

Wiien  Edith  came  within  a  step  of  the  kneeling  and  mo- 
tionless slave,  she  held  the  light  towards  his  face,  as  if  to 
peruse  his  features  more  attentively,  then  turned  from  him, 
and  placed  her  lamp  so  as  to  throw  the  shadow  of  his  face  in 
profile  upon  the  curtain  which  hung  beside.  She  at  length 
spoke  in  a  voice  composed,  yet  deeply  sorrowful. 

"Is  it  you?  Is  it  indeed  you,  brave  Knight  of  the 
Leopard — gallant  Sir  Kenneth  of  Scotland — is  it  indeed 
you — thus  servilely  disguised — thus  surrounded  by  an 
hundred  dangers  ?  " 

At  hearing  the  tones  of  his  lady's  voice  thus  unexpectedly 


THE  TALISMAN  263 

addressed  to  him,  and  in  a  tone  of  compassion  approaching 
to  tenderness,  a  corresponding  reply  rushed  to  tlie  knight's 
lips,  and  scarce  could  Richard's  commands,  and  his  own 
promised  silence,  prevent  his  answering,  that  the  sight  he 
saw,  the  sounds  he  just  heard,  were  suflticient  to  recompense 
the  slavery  of  a  life,  and  dangers  which  threatened  that  life 
every  hour.  He  did  recollect  himself,  however,  and  a  deep 
and  impassioned  sigh  was  his  only  reply  to"  the  high-born 
Edith's  question. 

"  I  see — I  know  I  have  guessed  right,"  continued  Edith. 
"  I  marked  you  from  your  first  appearance  near  the  plat- 
form on  which  I  stood  with  the  Queen.  I  knew,  too,  your 
valiant  hound.  She  is  no  true  lady,  and  is  unworthy  of  the 
service  of  such  a  knight  as  thou  art,  from  whom  disguises 
of  dress  or  hue  could  conceal  a  faithful  servant.  Speak, 
then,  without  fear,  to  Edith  Plantagenet.  She  knows  how 
to  grace  in  adv-fersity  the  good  knight  who  served,  honored, 
and  did  deeds  of  arms  in  her  name  when  fortune  befriended 
him.  Still  silent  !  Is  it  fear  or  shame  that  keeps  thee  so  ? 
Fear  should  be  unknown  to  thee  ;  and  for  shame,  let  it  re- 
main with  those  who  have  wronged  thee." 

The  knight,  in  despair  at  being  obliged  to  play  the  mute 
in  an  interview  so  interesting,  could  only  express  his  morti- 
fication by  sighing  deeply,  and  laying  his  finger  upon  his  lips. 
Edith  stepped  back  as  if  somewhat  displeased. 

•"  Wiiat  !"  she  said,  "the  Asiatic  mute  in  very  deed,  as 
well  as  in  attire  ?  This  I  looked  not  for.  Or  thou  may'st 
scorn  me,  perhaps,  for  thus  boldly  acknowledging  that  I 
have  heedfully  observed  the  homage  thou  hast  paid  me  ? 
Hold  no  unworthy  thoughts  of  Edith  on  that  account. 
She  knows  well  the  bounds  which  reserve  and  modesty  pre- 
scribe to  high-born  maidens,  and  she  knows  when  and  how 
far  they  should  give  place  to  gratitude — to  a  sincere  desire 
tliat  it  were  in  her  power  to  repay  services  and  repair  injuries 
arising  from  the  devotion  which  a  good  knight  bore  towards 
her.  Wliy  fold  thy  hands  together,  and  wring  them  with 
so  much  passion  ?  Can  it  be,"  she  added,  shrinking  back 
at  the  idea,  ''  that  their  cruelty  has  actually  deprived  thee 
of  speech  ?  Thou  shakest  thy  head.  Be  it  a  spell,  be  it 
obstinacy,  I  question  thee  no  farther,  but  leave  thee  to  do 
thine  errand  after  thine  own  fashion.     I  also  can  be  mute." 

The  disguised  knight  made  an  action  as  if  at  once  lament- 
ing his  own  condition  and  deprecating  her  displeasure,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  presented  to  her,  wrapped,  as  usual,  in 
fine  silk  and  cloth  of  gold,  the  letter  of  the  Soldan.     She 


266  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

took  it,  surveyed  it  carelessly,  then  laid  it  aside,  and  bend- 
ing her  eyes  once  more  on  the  knight,  she  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"  Not  even  a  word  to  do  thine  errand  to  me  ?  " 

He  pressed  both  his  hands  to  his  brow,  as  if  to  intimate 
the  pain  which  he  felt  at  being  unable  to  obey  her  ;  but  she 
turned  from  him  in  anger. 

''Begone!"  she  said.  "I  have  spoken  enough— too 
much — to  one  who  will  not  waste  on  me  a  word  in  reply. 
Begone  !  and  say,  if  I  have  wronged  thee,  I  have  done  pen- 
ance ;  for  if  I  have  been  the  unhappy  means  of  dragging 
thee  down  from  a  station  of  honor,  I  have,  in  this  interview, 
forgotten  my  own  worth  and  lowered  myself  in  thy  eyes  and 
in  my  own." 

She  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  seemed  deeply 
agitated.  Sir  Kenneth  would  have  approached,  but  she 
waved  him  back. 

"  Stand  off  I  thou  whose  soul  Heaven  hath  suited  to  its 
new  station  ?  Aught  less  dull  and  fearful  than  a  slavish 
mute  had  spoken  a  word  of  gratitude,  were  it  but  to  recon- 
cile me  to  my  own  degradation.    Why  pause  you  ?    Begone  !  " 

The  disguised  kniglit  almost  involuntarily  looked  towards 
the  letter  as  an  apology  for  protracting  his  stay.  She 
snatched  it  up,  saying,  in  a  tone  of  irony  and  contempt,  *'  I 
had  forgotten — the  dutiful  slave  waits  an  answer  to  his  mes- 
sage.    How's  this — from  the  Soldan  ! " 

She  hastily  ran  over  the  contents,  which  were  expressed 
both  in  Arabic  and  French,  and  when  she  had  done,  she 
laughed  in  bitter  anger. 

''Now  this  passes  imagination,"  she  said  :  "no  jongleur 
can  show  so  deft  a  transmutation.  His  legerdemain  can 
transform  zechins  and  bezants  into  doits  and  maravedies  ; 
but  can  his  art  convert  a  Christian  knight,  ever  esteemed 
among  the  bravest  of  the  Holy  Crusade,  into  the  dust-kissing 
slave  of  a  heathen  Soldan — the  bearer  of  a  paynim's  insolent 
proposals  to  a  Christian  maiden — nay,  forgetting  the  laws  of 
honorable  chivalry,  as  well  as  of  religion  ?  But  it  avails  not 
talking  to  the  willing  slave  of  a  heathen  hound.  Tell  your 
master,  when  his  scourge  shall  have  found  thee  a  tongue, 
that  which  thou  hast  seen  me  do."  So  saying,  she  threw 
the  Soldan's  letter  on  the  ground,  and  placed  her  foot  upon 
it.  "And  say  to  him,  that  Edith  Plantagenet  scorns  the 
homage  of  an  unchristened  pagan." 

With  these  words  she  was  about  to  shoot  from  the  knight, 
when,  kneeling  at  her  feet  in  bitter  agony,  he  ventured  to 
lay  his  hand  upon  her  robe  and  oppose  her  departure. 


THE  TALISMAN  267 

"Heardst  thou  not  what  I  said,  dull  slave  ?"she  said, 
turning  short  round  on  him,  and  speaking  with  emphasis  : 
"  tell  the  heathen  Soldan,  thy  master,  that  I  scorn  his  snit 
as  much  as  I  despise  the  prostration  of  a  worthless  renegade 
to  religion  and  chivalry — to  God  and  to  his  lady  \" 

So  saying,  she  burst  from  him,  tore  her  garment  from  his 
grasp,  and  left  the  tent. 

The  voice  of  Neville,  at  the  same  time,  summoned  him 
from  without.  Exhausted  and  stupefied  by  the  distress  he 
had  undergone  during  this  interview,  from  which  he  could 
only  have  extricated  himself  by  breach  of  the  engagement 
which  he  had  formed  with  King  Richard,  the  unfortunate 
knight  staggered  rather  than  walked  after  the  English  baron, 
till  they  reached  the  royal  pavilion,  before  which  a  party  of 
horsemen  had  just  dismounted.  There  was  light  and  motion 
within  the  tent,  and  when  Neville  entered  with  his  disguised 
attendant,  they  found  the  King,  with  several  of  his  nobility, 
engaged  in  welcoming  those  who  were  newly  arrived. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  tears  I  shed  must  ever  fall  I 
I  weep  not  for  an  absent  swain  ; 
For  time  may  happier  hours  recall, 
And  parted  lovers  meet  again. 

I  weep  not  for  the  silent  dead  ; 
Their  pains  are  past,  their  sorrows  o'er, 
And  those  that  loved  their  steps  must  tread, 
When  death  shall  join  to  part  no  more. 

But  worse  than  absence,  worse  than  death, 
She  wept  her  lover's  sullied  fame. 
And,  fired  with  all  the  pride  of  birth, 
She  wept  a  soldier's  injured  name."* 

Ballad. 

The  frank  and  bold  voice  of  Richard  was  heard  in  joyous 
gratulation. 

"  Thomas  de  Vaux  ! — stout  Tom  of  the  Gills  !  by  the  head 
of  King  Henry,  thou  art  welcome  to  me  as  ever  was  flask  of 
wine  to  a  jolly  toper  !  I  should  scarce  have  known  how  to 
order  my  battle  array,  unless  I  had  thy  bulky  form  in  mine 
eye  as  a  landmark  to  form  my  ranks  upon.  We  shall  have 
blows  anon,  Thomas,  if  the  saints  be  gracious  to  us  ;  and  had 
we  fought  in  thine  absence,  I  would  have  looked  to  hear  of 
thy  being  found  hanging  upon  an  elder-tree." 

"  I  should  have  borne  my  disappointment  with  more 
Christian  patience,  I  trust,"  said  Thomas  de  Vaux,  "  than 
to  have  died  the  death  of  an  apostate.  But  I  thank  your 
Grace  for  my  welcome,  which  is  more  generous,  as  it  respects 
a  banquet  of  blows,  of  which  saving  your  pleasure,  you  are 
ever  too  apt  to  engross  the  larger  share  ;  but  here  have  I 
brought  one  to  whom  your  Grace  will,  I  know,  give  a  yet 
warmer  welcome." 

The  person  who  now  stepped  forward  to  make  obeisance 
to  Richard  was  a  young  man  of  low  stature  and  slight  form. 
His  dress  was  as  modest  as  his  figure  was  unimpressive  ;  but 

*  The  last  four  lines  of  this  Ballad  are  by  the  Author  himself,  and 
the  previous  lines  from  "  The  Song  of  Genius,"  by  Helen  D'Arcy 
Crajiatoun,  afterwards  Mrs.  Dugald  Stewart  (Laing). 


s 


THE  TALISMAN  260 

he  bore  on  his  bonnet  a  gold  bnckle.  with  a  gem  the  luster 

'  of  which  could  only  be  rivalled   by  the  brilliancy  of  the  eye 

which  the  bonnet  shaded.     It  was  the  only  striking  feature 

in  his   countenance  ;  but  when  once  noticed,  it  ever  made 

J  a  strong  impression  on  the  spectator.     About  his  neck  there 

I'  hung  in  a  scarf  of  skyblue  silk  a  ''  wrest/'  as  it  is  called — 

that  is,  the  key  with  which  a  harp  is  tuned,  and  which  was 

of  solid  gold." 

This  personage  would  have  kneeled  reverently  to  Richard, 

.  but  the  monarch  raised  him  in  joyful  haste,  pressed  him  to 

,  his  bosom  warmly,  and  kissed  hini  on  either  side  of  the  face. 

"  Blondel  de  Nesle  !  "  he  exclaimed  joyfully;  "welcome 

'  from  Cyprus,  my  king  of  minstrels  ! — welcome  to  the  King 

of  England,  who  rates  not  his  own  dignity  more  highly  than 

he  does  thine.     I  have  been  sick,  man,  and,  by  my  soul.  I 

believe  it  was  for  lack  of  thee;  for,  were  I  half-way  to  the 

gate  of  Heaven,  methinks  thy  strains  could  call  me  back. 

And  what  news,  my  gentle  master,  from  the  land  of  the  lyre  ? 

Anything  fresh  from  the  trouveurs  of  Provence — anything 

from  the  minstrels  of  merry  Normandy — above  all  hast  thou 

thyself  been  busy  ?     But  I  need  not  ask   thee — thou  canst 

not  be  idle,  if  thou  wouldst :  thy  noble  qualities  are  like  a 

fire  burning  within,  and  compel  thee  to  pour  thyself  out  in 

music  and  song." 

"  Soniething  I  have  learned,  and  something  I  have  done, 
noble  king,"  answered  the  celebrated  Blondel,  with  a  retir- 
ing modesty  which  all  Richard's  enthusiastic  admiration  of 
his  skill  had  been  unable  to  banish. 

"  We  will  hear  thee,  man — we  will  hear  thee  instantly," 
said  the  King  ;  then  touching  Blondel's  shoulder  kindly,  he 
added,  "That  is,  if  thou  art  not  fatigued  witli  thy  journey  ; 
for  I  would  sooner  ride  my  best  horse  to  death  than  injure  a 
note  of  thy  voice." 

"  My  voice  is,  as  ever,  at  the  service  of  my  roval  patron," 
said  Blondel;  "but  your  Majesty."  he  added/ looking  at 
some  papers  on  the  table,  "  seems  more  importantly  engaged, 
and  the  hour  waxes  late." 

"  Not  a  whit,  man — not  a  whit,  my  dearest  Blondel.  I 
did  but  sketch  an  array  of  battle  against  the  Saracens — a 
thing  of  a  moment,  almost  as  soon  done  as  the  routing  of 
them." 

"Methinks,  however,"  said  Thomas  de  Vaux,  "it  were 
not  unfit  to  inquire  what  soldiers  your  Grace  hath  to  array. 
.1  bring  reports  on  that  subject  from  Ascalon." 
I    *'Thou   art  a  mule,  Thomas/'  said  the  King — "a  very 


270  WA  VER LEY  NO VEL S 

mule  for  dulness  and  obstinacy.  Come,  nobles — a  hall — a 
hall  !  — range  ye  around  him.  Give  Blondel  the  tabouret. 
Where  is  his  harp-bearer  ?  or,  soft — lend  him  my  harp,  his 
own  may  be  damaged  by  the  journey." 

"  I  would  your  Grace  would  take  my  report,"  said  Thomas 
de  Vaux,  "  I  have  ridden  far,  and  have  more  list  to  my  bed 
than  to  have  my  ears  tickled." 

"  Thy  ears  tickled  !  "  said  the  King  ;  "  that  must  be  with 
a  woodcock's  feather,  and  not  with  sweet  sounds.  Hark 
thee,  Thomas,  do  thine  ears  know  the  singing  of  Blondel 
from  the  braying  of  an  ass  ?  " 

"  In  faith,  my  liege,"  replied  Thomas,  "  I  cannot  well  say  ; 
but,  setting  Blondel  out  of  the  question,  who  is  a  born  gen- 
tleman, and  doubtless  of  high  acquirements,  I  shall  never, 
for  the  sake  of  your  Grace's  question,  look  on  a  minstrel  but 
I  shall  think  upon  an  ass." 

"  And  might  not  your  manners,"  said  Kichard,  "  have  ex- 
cepted me,  who  am  a  gentleman  born  as  well  as  Blondel,  and, 
like  him,  a  guild-brother  of  the  joi/cuse  science?" 

"Your  Grace  should  remember,"  said  De  Vaux,  smiling, 
"  that  'tis  useless  asking  for  manners  from  a  mule." 

"  Most  truly  spoken,"  said  the  King  ;  ''  and  an  ill-condi- 
tioned animal  thou  art.  But  come  hither,  master  mule,  and 
be  unloaded,  that  thou  mayest  get  thee  to  thy  litter,  without 
any  music  being  wasted  on  thee.  Meantime,  do  thou,  good 
brother  of  Salisbury,  go  to  our  consort's  tent,  and  tell  her 
that  Blondel  has  arrived,  with  his  budget  fraught  with  the 
newest  minstrelsy.  Bid  her  come  hither  instantly,  and  do 
thou  escort  her,  and  see  that  our  cousin,  Edith  Plantagenet, 
remain  not  behind." 

His  eye  then  rested  for  a  moment  on  the  Nubian,  with  that 
expression  of  doubtful  meaning  which  his  countenance  usually 
displayed  when  he  looked  at  him. 

"  Ha,  our  silent  and  secret  messenger  returned?  Stand 
up,  slave,  behind  the  back  of  De  Neville,  and  thou  shalt  hear 
presently  sounds  which  will  make  thee  bless  God  that  He 
afflicted  thee  rather  with  dumbness- than  deafness." 

So  saying,  he  turned  from  the  rest  of  the  company  towards 
De  Vaux,  and  plunged  instantly  into  the  military  details 
which  that  baron  laid  before  him. 

About  the  time  that  the  Lord  of  Gilsland  had  finished  his 
audience,  a  messenger  announced  that  the  Queen  and  her 
attendants  were  approaching  the  royal  tent.  "  A  flask  of 
wine,  ho  ! "  said  the  King— "  of  old  King  Isaac's  long-saved 
Cyprus,  which  we  won  when  we  stormed  Famagosta ;  fill  to 


TEE  TALISMAN  271 

the  stout  Lord  of  Gilslancl,  gentles — a  moreca'^eful  and  faith- 
ful servant  never  had  any  prince." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Thomas  de  Vanx,  •*  that  your  Grace 
finds  the  mule  a  useful  slave,  though  his  voice  be  less  musical 
than  horse-hair  or  wire." 

"  What,  thou  canst  not  yet  digest  that  quip  of  the  mule  ?  " 
said  Richard.  "  Wash  it  down  with  a  brimming  flagon, 
man,  or  thou  wilt  choke  upon  it.  Wliy,  so — well  pulled  ! 
And  now  I  will  tell  thee,  thou  art  a  soldier  as  well  as  I,  and 
we  must  brook  each  other's  jests  in  the  hall,  as  each  other's 
blows  in  the  tourney,  and  love  each  other  the  harder  we  hit. 
By  my  faith,  if  thou  didst  not  hit  me  as  hard  as  I  did  thee 
in  our  late  encounter,  thou  gavest  all  thy  wit  to  the  thrust. 
But  here  lies  the  difference  betwixt  thee  and  Blondel.  Thou 
art  but  my  comrade — I  might  say  my  pupil — in  the  art  of 
war  ;  Blondel  is  my  master  in  the  science  of  mins+relsy 
and  music.  To  thee  I  permit  the  freedom  of  intimacy  ;  to 
him  I  must  do  reverence,  as  to  my  superior  in  his  art. 
Come,  man,  be  not  peevish,  but  remain  and  hear  our  glee." 

"  To  see  your  Majesty  in  such  cheerful  mood,"  said  the 
Lord  of  Gilsland,  ''by  my  faith,  I  could  remain  till  Blondel 
had  achieved  the  great  romance  of  King  Arthur,  which  lasts 
for  three  days." 

"  We  will  not  tax  your  patience  so  deeply/'  said  the  King. 
"But  see,  yonder  glare  of  torches  without  shows  that  our 
consort  approaches.  Away  to  receive  her,  man,  and  win 
thyself  grace  in  the  brightest  eyes  of  Christendom.  Nay, 
never  stop  to  adjust  thy  cloak.  See,  thou  hast  let  Neville 
come  between  the  wind  and  the  sails  of  thy  galley  I " 

"  He  was  never  before  me  in  the  field  of  battle,"  said  De 
Vaux,  not  greatly  pleased  to  see  himself  anticipated  by  the 
more  active  service  of  the  chamberlain. 

"No,  neither  he  nor  any  one  went  before  thee  there,  my 
good  Tom  of  the  Gills,"  said  the  King,  "  unless  it  was  our- 
self,  now  and  then." 

"  Ay,  my  liege,"  said  De  Vaux,  "and  let  us  do  justice  to 
the  unfortunate  :  the  unhappy  Knight  of  the  Leopard  hath 
been  before  me,  too,  at  a  season  ;  for,  look  you,  he  weighs 
less  on  horseback,  and  so " 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  King,  interrupting  him  in  a  peremp- 
tory tone,  "  not  a  word  of  him  !  "  and  instantly  stepped 
forward  to  greet  his  royal  consort ;  and  when  he  had  done 
30,  he  presented  to  her  Blondel,  as  king  of  minstrelsy,  and 
his  master  in  the  gay  science.  Berengaria,  who  well  knew 
that  her  royal  husband's  passion  for  poetry  and  music  almost 


272  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

equalled  his  appetite  for  warlike  fame,  and  that  Blonde!  was 
his  especial  favorite,  took  anxious  care  to  receive  him  with 
all  the  flattering  distinctions  due  to  one  whom  the  king  de- 
lighted to  honor.  Yet  it  was  evident  that,  though  Blondel 
made  suitable  returns  to  the  compliments  showered  on  him 
something  too  abundantly  by  the  royal  beauty,  he  owned 
with  deeper  reverence  and  more  humble  gratitude  the  simple 
and  graceful  welcome  of  Edith,  whose  kindly  greeting  ap- 
peared to  him,  perhaps,  sincere  in  proportion  to  its  brevity 
and  simplicity. 

Both  the  Queen  and  her  royal  husband  were  aware  of  this 
distinction,  and  Richard,  seeing  his  consort  somewhat 
piqued  at  the  preference  assigned  to  his  cousin,  by  which 
perhaps  he  himself  did  not  feel  much  gratified,  said  in  the 
hearing  of  both,  ''  We  minstrels,  Bercngaria,  as  thou  mayst 
see  by  the  bearing  of  our  master  Blondel,  pay  more  reverence 
to  a  severe  judge  like  our  kinswoman  than  to  a  kindly, 
partial  friend  like  thyself,  who  is  willing  to  take  our  worth 
upon  trust." 

Edith  was  moved  by  this  sarcasm  of  her  royal  kinsman, 
and  hesitated  not  to  reply,  that,  "To  be  a  harsh  and  severe 
judge  was  not  an  attribute  proper  to  her  alone  of  all  the 
Plantagenets." 

She  had  perhaps  said  more,  having  some  touch  of  the 
temper  of  that  house,  which,  deriving  their  name  and  cogni- 
zance from  the  lowly  broom  [Planta  Genista),  assumed  as  an 
emblem  of  humility,  were  perhaps  one  of  the  proudest 
families  that  ever  ruled  in  England  ;  but  her  eye,  when 
kindling  in  her  reply,  suddenly  caught  those  of  the  Nubian, 
although  he  endeavored  to  concealhimself  behind  the  nobles 
who  were  present,  and  she  sunk  upon  a  seat,  turning  so 
pale  that  the  Queen  Berengaria  deemed  herself  obliged  to 
call  for  water  and  essences,  and  to  go  through  the  other 
ceremonies  appropriate  to  a  lady's  swoon.  Richard,  who 
better  estimated  Edith's  strength  of  mind,  called  to  Blondel 
to  assume  his  seat  and  commence  his  lay,  declaring  that 
minstrelsy  was  worth  every  other  recipe  to  recall  a  Plan- 
tagenet  to  life.  "  Sing  us,"  he  said,  "  that  song  of  the 
Bloody  Vest,  of  which  thou  didst  formerly  give  me  the  argu- 
ment, ere  Ileft  Cyprus;  thou  must  be  perfect  in  it  by  this 
time,  or,  as  our  yeomen  say,  thy  bow  is  broken." 

The  anxious  eye  of  the  minstrel,  however,  dwelt  on  Edith, 
and  it  was  not  till  he  observed  her  returning  color  that  he 
obeyed  the  repeated  commands  of  the  King.  Then,  ac- 
companying his  voice  with  the  harp,  so  as  to  grace,  but  yet 


!  THE  TALISMAN  273 

not  drown,  the  sense  of  what  he  snng,  he  chanted  m  a  sort 
of  recitative  one  of  those  ancient  adventures  of  love  and 
knighthood  which  were  wont  of  yore  to  win  the  public  atten- 
tion. So  soon  as  he  began  to  j^relnde,  the  insignificance  of 
his  personal  appearance  seemed  to  disappear,  and  his  coun- 
tenance glowed  with  energy  and  inspiration.  His  full, 
manly,  mellow  voice,  so  absolutely  under  command  of  the 
purest  taste,  thrilled  on  every  ear  and  to  every  heart. 
Richard,  rejoiced  as  after  victory,  called  out  the  appropriate 
summons  for  silence, 

"  Listen,  lords,  in  bower  and  hall ; " 

while,  with  the  zeal  of  a  patron  at  once  and  a  pupil,  he  ar- 
ranged the  circle  around,  and  hushed  them  into  silence,  and 
he  himself  sat  down  with  an  air  of  expectation  and  interest, 
not  altogether  unmixed  with  the  gravity  of  the  professed 
critic.  The  courtiers  turned  tlieir  eyes  on  the  King,  that 
they  miglit  be  ready  to  trace  and  imitate  the  emotions  his 
features  should  express,  and  Thomas  de  Vanx  yawned  tre- 
mendously, as  one  who  submitted  unwillingly  to  a  weari- 
some penance.  The  song  of  Blondel  was  of  course  in  the 
J^orman  language  ;  but  the  verses  which  follow  express  its 
meaning  and  its  manner. 

^be  :©IooDb  Dest 

'Twas  near  the  fair  city  of  Benevent, 
When  the  sun  was  setting  on  bough  and  bent, 
And  knights  were  preparing  in  bower  and  tent, 
On  the  eve  of  the  Baptist's  tournament ; 
When  in  Lincoln  green  a  stripling  gent, 
Well  seeming  a  page  by  a  princess  sent, 
Wander'd  the  camp,  and,  still  as  he  went. 
Enquired  for  the  Englishman,  Thomas  a  Kent. 

Far  hath  he  fared,  and  farther  must  fare. 
Till  he  finds  his  pavilion  nor  stately  nor  rare — 
Little  save  iron  and  steel  was  there  ; 
And,  as  lacking  the  coin  to  pay  armorer's  care, 
With  his  sinewy  arms  to  the  shoulders  bare. 
The  good  knight  with  hammer  and  file  did  repair 
The  mail  that  to-morrow  must  see  him  wear, 
For  the  honor  of  St.  John  and  his  lady  fair. 

"  Thus  speaks  my  lady,"  the  page  said  he, 
A-nd  the  knight  bent  lowly  both  head  and  knee^ 
''  She  is  Benevent's  princess  so  high  in  degree. 
ly.-'-  And  thou  art  as  lowly  as  knight  may  well  be ; 

i8 


274  WA  VERLEY  N  O  VEL  S 

He  that  would  climb  so  lofty  a  tree, 

Or  spring  such  a  gulf  as  divides  lier  from  thee, 

Must  dare  some  high  deed,  by  which  all  men  may  see 

His  ambition  is  back'd  by  his  high  chivalrie. 

"Therefore  thus  speaks  my  lady,"  the  fair  pa^e  he  said, 
And  the  knight  lowly  louted  with  hand  and  with  head, 
"  Fling  aside  the  good  armor  in  which  thou  art  clad, 
And  don  thou  tliis  weed  of  her  night-gear  instead, 
For  a  hauberk  of  steel,  a  kirtle  of  thread  ; 
And  charge,  thus  attired,  in  the  tournament  dread, 
And  fight  as  thy  wont  is  where  most  blood  is  shed, 
And  bring  honor  away,  or  remain  with  the  dead." 

Untrovibled  in  his  look  and  untroubled  in  his  breast. 
The  kniglit  tlie  weed  hath  taken  and  reverently  hath  kissed— 
"  Now  blessed  be  the  moment,  the  messenger  be  blest ! 
Much  honored  do  I  hold  me  in  my  lady's  high  behest! 
And  say  unto  my  lady,  in  this  dear  night-weed  dress'd, 
To  the  best-armed  champion  I  will  not  veil  my  crest. 
But  if  I  live  and  bear  me  well  'tis  her  turn  to  take  the  test." 
Here,  gentles,  ends  the  foremost  fytte  of  the  Lay  of  the  Bloodj 
Vest. 

"Thou  hast  changed  the  measure  upon  us  unawares  in 
that  last  couplet,  my  Blondel  ?  "  said  the  King. 

"Most  true,  my  lord/'  said  Blondel.  "I  rendered  the 
verses  from  the  Italian  of  an  old  harper  whom  I  met  in 
Cyprus,  and  not  having  having  had  time  either  to  translate 
it  accurately  or  commit  it  to  memory,  I  am  fain  to  supply 
gaps  in  the  music  and  the  verse  as  I  can  upon  the  spur  of 
the  moment,  as  you  see  boors  mend  a  quickset  fence  with  a 


"  Nay,  on  my  faith,"  said  the  King,  "  I  like  these  rattling 
rolling  Alexandrines  :  methinks  they  come  more  twangingly 
off  to  the  music  than  that  briefer  measure." 

"  Both  are  licensed,  as  is  well  known  to  your  Grace,"  an- 
swered Blondel. 

"They  are  so,  Blondel,"  said  Richard;  "yet  methinks 
the  scene,  where  there  is  like  to  be  fighting,  will  go  best  on 
in  these  same  thundering  Alexandrines,  which  sound  like 
the  charge  of  cavalry  ;  while  the  other  measure  is  but  like 
the  side-long  amble  of  a  lady's  palfrey." 

"  It  shall  be  as  your  Grace  pleases,"  replied  Blondel,  and 
began  again  to  prelude. 

"  Nay,  first  cherish  thy  fancy  with  a  cup  of  fiery  Chios 
wine,"  said  the  King  ;  "  and  hark  thee,  I  would  have  thee 
fling  away  that  newfangled  restriction  of  thine,  of  terminat- 
ing in  accurate  and  similar  rhymes.     They  are  a  constraint 


THE  TALISMAN  276 

on  thy  flow  of  fancy,  and  make  thee  resemble  a  man  dancing 
in  fetters." 

"The  fetters  are  easily  flung  off,  at  least,"  said  Blondel, 
again  sweejoing  his  fingers  over  the  strings,  as  one  who 
would  rather  have  played  than  listened  to  criticism. 

"  But  why  put  them  on,  man  ?"  continued  the  King. 
"  Wherefore  thrust  thy  genius  into  iron  bracelets  ?  I 
marvel  how  you  got  forward  at  all  :  I  am  sure  I  should 
not  have  been  able  to  compose  a  stanza  in  yonder  ham- 
pered measure." 

Blondel  looked  down  and  busied  himself  with  the  strings 
of  his  harp,  to  hide  an  involuntary  smile  which  crept  over 
his  features  ;  but  it  escaped  not  Kichard's  observation. 

**  By  my  faith,  thou  laugh'st  at  me,  Blondi'l,"  he  said  ; 
"and,  in  good  truth,  every  man  deserves  it  who  presumes 
to  play  the  master  when  he  should  be  the  pupil ;  but  we 
kings  get  bad  habits  of  self-opinion.  Come,  on  with  thy 
lay,  dearest  Blondel — on  after  thine  own  fashion,  better 
than  aught  that  we  can  suggest,  though  we  must  needs  be 
talking." 

Blondel  resumed  the  lay  ;  but,  as  extemporaneous  com- 
position was  familiar  to  him,  he  failed  not  to  comply  with 
the  King's  hints,  and  was  perhaps  not  displeased  to  show 
with  how  much  ease  he  could  new-model  a  poem  even 
while  in  the  act  of  recitation. 

ZMC  JBlooJ)l2  lDC6t 

Fytte  Second 

The  Baptist's  fair  morrow  beheld  gallant  feats  : 

There  was  winning  of  honor  and  losing  of  seats, 

There  was  hewing  with  falchions  and  splintering  of  staves  ; 

The  victors  won  glory,  the  vanquished  won  graves. 

O,  many  a  knight  there  fought  bravely  and  well. 

Yet  one  was  accounted  his  peers  to  excel, 

And  'twas  he  whose  sole  armor  on  body  and  breast 

Seem'd  the  weed  of  a  damsel  when  bound  for  her  rest. 

There  were  some  dealt  him  wounds  that  were  bloody  and  sore, 

But  others  respected  his  plight,  and  forbore. 

"  It  is  some  oath  of  honor."  they  said,  "  and  I  trow, 

Twere  unknightly  to  slay  him  achieving  his  vow." 

Then  the  prince,  for  his  sake,  bade  the  toui'nament  cease  : 

He  flung  down  his  warder,  the  trumpets  sung  peace  ; 

And  the  judges  declare,  and  competitors  yield, 

That  the  Knight  of  the  Night-gear  was  first  in  the  field. 


-76  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

The  feast  it  was  nigh,  and  the  mass  it  was  nigher, 

When  before  the  fair  princess  low  louted  a  squire, 

And  delivered  a  garment  unseemly  to  view. 

With  sword-cut  and  spear-thrust  all  hack'd  and  pierced  throvigb. 

All  rent  and  all  tatter'd,  all  clotted  with  blood. 

With  foam  of  tlie  horses,  with  dust,  and  with  mud. 

Not  the  point  of  that  lady's  small  finger,  I  ween, 

Could  have  rested  on  spot  was  unsullied  and  clean. 

"  This  token  my  master,  Sir  Thomas  a  Kent, 
Restores  to  the  princess  of  fair  Benevent. 
He  that  climbs  the  tall  tree  has  won  riglit  to  tlie  fruit, 
He  that  leaps  tlie  wide  gulf  should  prevail  in  his  suit: 
Through  life's  utmost  peril  tlie  prize  I  have  won. 
And  now  must  the  faith  of  my  mistress  be  shown ; 
For  she  who  prompts  knights  on  such  danger  to  run 
Must  avouch  his  true  service  in  front  of  the  sun. 

"  '  I  restore,'  says  my  master,  '  the  garment  I've  worn, 

And  I  claim  of  tlie  princess  to  don  it  in  turn  ; 

For  its  stains  and  its  rents  she  should  prize  it  the  more. 

Since  by  shame  'tis  unsullied,  though  crimson'd  with  gore.'  '• 

Then  deep  blvish'd  the  princess  ;  yet  kiss'd  she  and  press'd 

The  Ijlood-spotted  robes  to  her  lips  and  her  breast. 

"Go  tell  my  true  knight,  church  and  chamber  shall  show, 

If  I  value  the  blood  on  this  garment  or  no." 

And  when  it  was  time  for  the  nobles  to  pass, 

In  solemn  procession  to  minster  and  mass. 

The  first  walk'd  the  princess  in  purple  and  pall. 

But  the  blood-besmear'd  night-robe  she  wore  over  all; 

And  eke,  in  the  hall,  where  they  all  sat  at  dine. 

Wlien  she  knelt  to  her  father  and  proffered  the  wine, 

Over  all  her  rich  robes  and  state  jewels  she  wore 

That  wimple  unseemly,  bedabbled  with  gore. 

Then  lords  whisper'd  ladies,  as  well  you  may  think, 
And  ladies  replied,  with  nod,  titter,  and  wink  ; 
And  the  prince,  who  in  anger  and  shame  had  look'd  down, 
Turn'd  at  length  to  his  daughter,  and  spoke  with  a  frown : 
"  Now  since  thou  hast  publish'd  thy  folly  and  guilt. 
E'en  atone  with  thy  hand  for  the  blood  thou  hast  spilt ; 
Yet  sore  for  your  boldness  you  both  will  repent. 
When  you  wander  as  exiles  from  fair  Benevent." 

Then  out  spoke  stout  Thomas,  in  hall  where  he  stood, 
Exhausted  and  feeble,  but  dauntless  of  mood. 
"  The  blood  that  I  lost  for  this  daughter  of  tliine, 
I  pour'd  forth  as  freely  as  flask  gives  its  wine  ; 
And  if  for  my  sake  she  brooks  penance  and  blame, 
Do  not  doubt  I  will  save  her  from  suffering  and  shame; 
And  light  will  she  reck  of  thy  princedom  and  rent, 
When  I  hail  her,  in  England,  the  Countess  of  Kent ! " 

A  murmtir  of   applause    ran  through  the  assembly,  foL 
lowing  the  example  of   Eichard  himself,  who  loaded  with 


THE  TALISMAN  277 

praises  his  favorite  minstrel,  and  ended  by  presenting  him 
\/ith  a  ring  of  considerable  value.  The  Queen  hastened 
to  distinguish  the  favorite  by  a  rich  bracelet,  and  many  of 
the  nobles  who  were  present  followed  the  royal  example. 

'"Is  our  cousin  Edith,"  said  the  King,  "become  insen- 
sible to  the  sound  of  the  harp  she  once  loved  ?" 

"She  thanks  Blondel  for  his  lay,"  replied  Edith,  "but 
doubly  the  kindness  of  the  kinsman  who  suggested  it." 

"  Thou  art  angry,  cousin,"  said  the  King — "  angry  be- 
cause thou  hast  heard  of  a  woman  more  wayward  than  thy= 
self.  But  you  escape  me  not :  I  will  walk  a  space  home- 
ward with  you  towards  the  Queen's  pavilion  ;  we  must  have 
conference  together  ere  the  night  has  waned  into  morning." 

The  Queen  and  her  attendants  were  now  on  foot,  and  the 
other  guests  withdrew  from  the  royal  tent.  A  train  with 
blazing  torches,  and  an  escort  of  archers,  awaited  Berengaria 
without  the  pavilion,  and  she  was  soon  on  her  way  home- 
ward. Richard,  as  he  had  proposed,  walked  beside  his  kins- 
woman, and  compelled  her  to  accept  of  his  arm  as  her  sup- 
port, so  that  they  could  speak  to  each  other  without  being 
overheard. 

"  What  answer,  then,  am  I  to  return  to  the  noble  Soldan  ?" 
said  Richard.  "  The  kings  and  princes  are  falling  from  me, 
Edith  :  this  new  quarrel  hath  alienated  them  once  m.ore.  I 
would  do  something  for  the  Holy  Sepulchre  by  composition, 
if  not  by  victory  ;  and  the  chance  of  my  doing  this  depends, 
alas  !  on  the  caprice  of  a  woman.  I  would  lay  my  single 
spear  in  the  rest  against  ten  of  the  best  lances  in  Christen- 
dom, rather  than  argue  with  a  wilful  wench,  who  knows  not 
what  is  for  her  own  good.  What  answer,  coz,  am  I  to  return 
to  the  Soldan  ?     It  must  be  decisive." 

"  Tell  him,"  said  Edith,  "  that  the  poorest  of  the  Planta- 
genets  will  rather  wed  with  misery  than  with  misbelief." 

"  Shall  I  say  with  slavery,  Edith  ?"said  the  King.  "  Me- 
thinks  that  is  nearer  thy  thoughts." 

"  There  is  no  room."  said  Edith,  "for  the  suspicion  you 
so  grossly  insinuate.  Slavery  of  the  body  might  have  been 
pitied,  but  that  of  the  soul  is  only  to  be  despised.  Shame 
to  thee,  king  of  Merry  England  !  Tliou  hast  enthralled  both 
the  limbs  and  the  spirit  of  a  knight  once  scarce  less  famed 
than  thyself." 

"Should  I  not  prevent  my  kinswoman  from  drinking 
poison,  by  sullying  the  vessel  which  contained  it,  if  I  saw  no 
other  means  of  disgusting  her  with  the  fatal  liquor  ?  "  replied 
the  King. 


278  WAVER LEY^  NOVELS 

"It  is  thyself,"  answered  Edith,  "  that  would  press  me  to 
drink  poison,  because  it  is  proffered  in  a  golden  chalice." 

**  Edith/' said  Richard,  "  I  cannot  force  thy  resolution  ; 
but  beware  you  shut  not  the  door  which  Heaven  opens. 
The  hermit  of  Eugaddi,  he  whom  Popes  and  councils  have 
regarded  as  a  prophet,  hath  read  in  the  stars  that  thy  mar- 
riage shall  reconcile  me  with  a  powerful  enemy,  and  that  thy 
husband  shall  be  Christian,  leaving  thus  the  fairest  ground 
to  hope  that  the  conversion  of  the  Soldan,  and  the  bringing 
in  of  the  sons  of  Ishmael  to  the  pale  of  the  church,  will  be 
the  consequence  of  thy  wedding  with  Saladin.  Come,  thou 
must  make  some  sacrifice  rather  than  mar  such  happy  pros- 
pects." 

''Men  may  sacrifice  rams  and  goats,"  said  Edith,  ''but 
not  honor  and  conscience.  I  have  heard  that  it  was  the 
dishonor  of  a  Christian  maiden  which  brought  the  Saracen 
into  Spain  ;  the  shame  of  another  is  no  likely  mode  of  ex- 
pelling them  from  Palestine." 

"Dost  thou  call  it  shame  to  become  an  empress  ?"  said 
the  King. 

"  I  call  it  shame  and  dishonor  to  profane  a  Christian  sacra- 
ment by  entering  into  it  with  an  infidel  whom  it  cannot 
bind  ;  and  I  call  it  foul  dishonor  that  I,  the  descendant  of  a 
Christian  princess,  should  become  of  free-will  the  head  of  a 
haram  of  heathen  concubines." 

"  Well,  kinswoman,"  said  the  King,  after  a  pause,  "  I 
must  not  quarrel  with  thee,  though  I  think  thy  dependent 
condition  might  have  dictated  more  compliance." 

"My  liege,"  replied  Edith,  "your  Grace  hath  worthily 
succeeded  to  all  the  wealth,  dignity,  and  dominion  of  the 
house  of  Plantagenet  ;  do  not,  therefore,  begrudge  your  poor 
kinswoman  some  small  share  of  their  pride." 

"  By  my  faith,  wench,"  said  the  king,  "  thou  hast  un- 
horsed me  with  that  very  word  ;  so  we  will  kiss  and  be  friends. 
I  will  presently  despatch  thy  answer  to  Saladin.  But,  after 
all,  coz,  were  it  not  better  to  suspend  your  answer  till  you 
have  seen  him  ?     Men  say  he  is  pre-eminently  handsome." 

"There  is  no  chance  of  our  meeting,  my  lord,"  said  Edith. 

"  By  St.  George,  but  there  is  next  to  a  certainty  of  it," 
said  the  King  ;  "for  Saladin  will  doubtless  afford  us  a  free 
field  for  the  doing  of  this  new  'battle  of  the  standard,'  and 
will  witness  it  himself.  Berengaria  is  wild  to  behold  it  also, 
and  I  dare  be  sworn  not  a  feather  of  you,  her  companions 
and  attendants,  will  remain  behind — least  of  all  thou  thy- 
self, fair  coz.     But  come,  we  have  reached  the  pavilion,  and 


THE  TALISMAN  2'79 

mnst  part,  not  in  unkindness  though — nay,  thou  must  seal 
it  with  thy  lip  as  well  as  thy  hand,  sweet  Edith  ;  it  is  my 
right  as  a  sovereign  to  kiss  my  pretty  vassals." 

He  embraced  her  respectfully  and  affectionately,  and  re- 
turned through  the  moonlight  camp,  humming  to  himself 
such  snatches  of  Blondel's  lay  as  he  could  recollect. 

On  his  arrival,  he  lost  no  time  in  making  up  his  despatches 
for  Saladin,  and  delivered  them  to  the  Nubian,  with  a  charge 
to  set  out  by  peep  of  day  on  his  return  to  the  Soldan. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

"We  heard  the  tecbir, — so  these  Arabs  call 
Their  shout  of  onset,  when,  with  loud  acclaim, 
They  challenge  Heaven  to  give  them  victory. 

Siege  of  Damascus. 

On  the  subsequent  morning,  Richard  was  invited  to_  a 
conference  by  Philip  of  France,  in  which  the  hitter,  with 
mauy  expressions  of  his  high  esteem  for  his  brother  of  Eng- 
land, communicated  to  him,  in  terms  extreniely  courteous, 
but  too  explicit  to  be  misunderstood  his  positive  intention 
to  return  to  Europe,  and  to  the  cares  of  his  kingdom,  as  en- 
tirely despairing  of  future  success  in  their  undertaking,  with 
their  diminished  forces  and  civil  discords.  Richard  remon- 
strated, but  in  vain  ;  and  when  the  conference  ended,  he  re- 
ceived without  surprise  a  manifesto  from  the  Duke  of  Aus- 
tria and  several  other  princes,  announcing  a  resolution  similar 
to  that  of  Philip,  and  in  no  modified  terms  assigning  for 
their  defection  from  the  cause  of  the  Cross  the  inordinate 
ambition  and  arbitrary  domination  of  Richard  of  England. 
All  hopes  of  continuing  the  war  with  any  prospect  of  ulti- 
mate success  were  now  abandoned,  and  Richard,  while  he 
shed  bitter  tears  over  his  disappointed  hopes  of  glory,  was 
little  consoled  by  the  recollection  that  the  failure  was  in 
some  degree  to  be  imputed  to  the  advantages  which  he  had 
given  his  enemies  by  his  own  hasty  and  imprudent  temper. 

*'  They  had  not  dared  to  have  deserted  my  father  thus," 
he  said  to  De  Vaux,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  resentment. 
"  Xo  slanders  they  could  have  uttered  against  so  wise  a  king 
would  have  been  believed  in  Christendom  ;  whereas — fool 
that  I  am  !— I  have  not  only  afforded  them  a  pretext  for  de- 
serting me,  but  even  a  color  for  casting  all  the  blame  of  the 
rupture  upon  my  unhappy  foibles.'^ 

These  thoughts  were  so  deeply  galling  to  the  King,  that 
De  Vaux  was  rejoiced  when  the  arrival  of  an  ambassador 
from  Saladin  turned  his  reflections  into  a  different  channel. 

This  new  envoy  was  an  emir  much  resi)ected  by  the  Sol- 
dan,  whose  name  was  Abdallah  el  Hadgi.  He  derived  his 
descent  from  the  family  of  the  Prophet,  and  the  race  or  tribe 
of  Hashem,  in  witness  of  which  genealogy  he  wore  a  green 


THE  TALISMAN  281 

turban  of  large  dimensions.  He  had  also  three  times  per- 
formed the  journey  to  Mecca,  from  which  he  derived  his 
epithet  of  El  Hadgi,  or  the  Pilgrim.  Notwithstanding  these 
various  pretentsions  to  sanctity,  Abdallah  was,  for  an  Arab, 
a  boon  companion,  who  enjoyed  a  merry  tale,  and  laid  aside 
his  gravity  so  far  as  to  quafE  a  blythe  flagon,  when  secrecy 
ensured  him  against  scandal.  He  was  likewise  a  statesman, 
whose  abilities  had  been  used  by  Saladiu  in  various  negotia- 
tionswith  the  Christian  princes,andparticularlywith  Richard, 
to  whom  El  Hadgi  was  personally  known  and  acceptable. 
Animated  by  the  "cheerful  acquiescence  with  which  the  envoy 
of  Saladin  afforded  a  fair  field  for  the  combat,  a  safe-conduct 
for  all  who  might  choose  to  witness  it,  and  offered  his  own 
person  as  a  guarantee  of  his  fidelity,  Richard  soon  forgot  his 
disappointed  hopes,  and  the  approaching  dissolution  of  the 
Christian  league,  in  the  interesting  discussions  preceding  a 
combat  in  the  lists. 

The  station  called  the  Diamond  of  the  Desert  was  assigned 
for  the  place  of  conflict,  as  being  nearly  at  an  equal  distance 
betwixt  the  Christian  and  Saracen  camps.  It  was  agreed 
that  Conrade  of  Montserrat,  the  defendant,  with  his  god- 
fathers, the  Archduke  of  Austria  and  the  Grand  Masters  of 
the  Templars,  should  appear  there  on  the  day  fixed  for  the 
combat,  with  an  hundred  armed  followers,  and  no  more  ; 
that  Richard  of  England  and  his  brother  Salisbury,  who  sup- 
ported the  accusation,  should  attend  with  the  same  number, 
to  protect  his  champion  ;  and  that  the  Soldan  should  bring 
with  him  a  guard  of  five  hundred  chosen  followers,  a  band 
considered  as  not  more  than  equal  to  the  two  hundred  Chris- 
tian lances.  Such  persons  of  consideration  as  either  party 
chose  to  invite  to  witness  the  contest  were  to  wear  no  other 
weapons  than  their  swords,  and  to  come  without  defensive 
armor.  The  Soldan  undertook  the  preparation  of  the  lists, 
and  to  provide  accommodations  and  refreshments  of  every 
kind  for  all  who  were  to  assist  at  the  solemnity  ;  and  his  let- 
ters expressed,  with  much  courtesy,  the  pleasure  which  he 
anticipated  in  the  prospect  of  a  personal  and  peaceful  meet- 
ing with  the  Melech  Ric,  and  his  anxious  desire  to  render  his 
reception  as  agreeable  as  possible. 

All  preliminaries  being  arranged,  and  communicated  to 
the  defendant  and  his  godfathers,  Abdallah  the  Hadgi  was 
admitted  to  a  more  private  interview,  where  he  heard  with 
delight  the  strains  of  Blondel.  Having  first  carefully  put 
his  green  turban  out  of  sight,  and  assumed  a  Greek  cap  in 
its  stead,  he  requited  the  Norman  minstrel's  music  with  a 


282  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL8 

drinking-song  from  the  Persian,  and  quaffed  a  hearty  flagon 
of  Cyprus  wine,  to  show  that  his  practise  matched  his  prin- 
ciples. On  the  next  day,  grave  and  sober  as  the  water- 
drinker  Mirglip,  he  bent  lais  brow  to  the  ground  before  Sala- 
din's  footstool,  and  rendered  to  the  Soldan  an  account  of  his 
embassy. 

On  the  day  before  that  appointed  for  the  combat,  Conrade 
and  his  friends  set  off  by  daybreak  to  repair  to  the  place  as- 
signed, and  Richard  left  the  camp  at  the  same  hour,  and  for 
the  same  purpose  ;  but,  as  had  been  agreed  upon,  he  took 
his  journey  by  a  different  route — a  precaution  which  had 
been  judged  necessary,  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  a  quarrel 
betwixt  their  armed  attendants. 

The  good  King  himself  was  in  no  humor  for   quarreling 
with  any  one.     Nothing  could  have  added  to  his  pleasurable 
anticipations  of  a  desperate  and  bloody  combat  in  the  lists, 
except  his  being  in  his  own  royal  person  one  of  the  combat- 
ants ;  and  he  was  half  in  charity  again  even  with  Conrade 
of  Montserrat.     Lightly  armed,  richly  dressed,  and  gay  as  a  1 
bridegroom  on   the  eve  of  his  nuptials,  Richard  caracoled  i 
along  by  the  side  of  Queen  Berengaria's  litter,  pointing  out  i; 
to  her  the  various  scenes  through  which  they  passed,  and 
cheering  with  tale  and  song  the   bosom  of  the  inhospitable 
wilderness.     The  former  route  of  the  Queen's  pilgrimage  to  I 
Engaddi  had  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  chain  of  moun-  « 
tains,  so  that  the  ladies  were  strangers  to  the  scenery  of  the  | 
desert ;  and  though  Berengaria  knew  her  husband's  disposi 
tion  too  well  not  to  endeavor  to  seem  interested  in  what  he  i 
was  pleased  either  to  say  or  to  sing,  she  could  not  help  in-  \. 
dulging  some  female  fears  when  she  found  herself  in  the  howl- 
ing  wilderness  with  so  small  an  escort,  which  seemed  almost 
like  a  moving  speck  on  the  bosom  of  the  plain,  and  knew,  at 
the  same  time,  they  were  not  so  distant  from  the  camp  of  j 
Saladin  but  what  they  might  be  in  a  moment  surprised  and  ! 
swept  off  by  an  overpowering  host  of  his  fiery-footed  cavalry,  ;■ 
should  the  pagan  be  faithless  enough  to  embrace  an  oppor-  ;■ 
tunity  thus  tempting.     But  when  she  hinted  these  suspicions  ^, 
to  Richard,  he  repelled  them  with  displeasure  and  disdain.  \ 
"It  were  worse  than  ingratitude,"  he  said,    "to  doubt  the  ■ 
good  faith  of  the  generous  Soldan." 

Yet  the  same  doubts  and  fears  recurred  more  than  once,  | 
not  to  the  timid  mind  of  the  Queen  alone,  but  to  the  firmer  i 
and  more  candid  soul  of  Edith  Plantagenet,  who  had  no  such  I 
confidence  in  the  faith  of  the  Molsem  as  to  render  her  per-  • 
fectly  at  ease  when  so  mucli  in  their  power ;  and  her  «ur- 


THE  TALISMAN  283 

prise  had  been  far  less  than  her  terror  if  the  desert  around 
had  suddenly  resounded  with  the  shout  of  '•'  AUa  hu  \"  and 
a  band  of  Arab  cavah-y  had  pounced  on  them  like  vultures 
on  their  prey.  Nor  were  these  suspicions  lessened  when,  as 
evening  approached,  they  were  aware  of  a  single  Arab  horse- 
man, distinguished  by  his  turban  and  long  lance,  hovering 
on  the  edge  of  a  small  eminence  like  a  hawk  poised  in  the  air, 
and  who  instantly,  on  the  appearance  of  the  royal  retinue, 
darted  off  with  the  speed  of  the  same  bird  when  it  shoots 
down  the  wind  and  disappears  from  the  horizon. 

"  We  must  be  near  the  station,"  said  King  Eichard  ;  "  and 
yonder  cavalier  is  one  of  Saladin's  outposts  ;  methinkslhear 
the  noise  of  the  Moorish  horns  and  cymbals.  Get  you  into 
order,  my  hearts,  and  form  yourselves  around  the  ladies 
soldier-like  and  firmly." 

As  he  spoke,  each  knight,  squire,  and  archer  hastily  closed 
in  upon  his  appointed  ground,  and  they  proceeded  in  the 
most  compact  order,  which  made  their  numbers  appear  still 
smaller  ;  and,  to  say  the  truth,  though  there  might  be  no 
fear,  there  was  anxiety  as  well  as  curiosity,  in  the  attention 
with  which  they  listened  to  the  wild  bursts  of  Moorish  music, 
which  came  ever  and  anon  more  distinctly  from  the  quarter 
in  which  the  Arab  horseman  had  been  seen  to  disappear. 

De  Vaux  spoke  in  a  whisper  to  the  King — "Were  it  not 
well,  my  liege,  to  send  a  page  to  the  top  of  that  sandbank  ? 
Or  would  it  stand  with  your  pleasure  that  I  prick  forward  ? 
Methinks,  by  all  yonder  clash  and  clang,  if  there  be  no  more 
than  five  hundred  men  beyond  the  sand-hills,  half  of  the 
Soldan's  retinue  must  be  drummers  and  cymbal-tossers. 
Shall  I  spur  on  ?  " 

The  baron  had  checked  his  horse  with  the  bit,  and  was 
just  about  to  strike  him  with  the  spurs,  when  the  King 
exclaimed — "  Not  for  the  world.  Such  a  caution  would 
express  suspicion,  and  could  do  little  to  prevent  surprise, 
which,  however,  1  apprehend  not." 

They  advanced  accordingly  in  close  and  firm  order  till 
they  surmounted  the  line  of  low  sand-hills,  and  came  in 
sight  of  the  appointed  station,  when  a  splendid,  but  at  the 
same  time  a  startling,  spectacle  awaited  them. 

The  Diamond  of  the  Desert,  so  lately  a  solitary  fountain, 
distinguished  only  amid  the  waste  by  solitary  groups  of 
palm-trees,  was  now  the  center  of  an  encampment,  the 
embroidered  flags  and  gilded  ornaments  of  which  glittered 
far  and  wide,  and  reflected  a  thousand  rich  tints  against 
the  setting  sun.     The  coverings  of  the  large  pavilons  were 


284  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  lAe  gayest  colors — scarlet,  briglit  yellow,  pale  blue,  and 
other  gaudy  and  gleaming  hues — and  the  tops  of  their  pillars, 
or  tent-poles,  were  decorated  with  golden  pomegranates  and 
small  silken  flags.  But,  besides  these  distinguished  pavil- 
ions, there  were  what  Thomas  de  Vaux  considered  as  a 
portentous  number  of  the  ordinary  black  tents  of  the  Arabs, 
being  sufficient,  as  he  conceived,  to  accommodate,  according 
to  the  Eastern  fashion,  a  host  of  five  thousand  men.  A 
number  of  Arabs  and  Kurds,  fully  corresponding  to  the 
extent  of  the  encampment,  were  hastily  assembling,  each 
leading  his  horse  in  his  hand,  and  their  muster  was  accom- 
panied by  an  astonishing  clamor  of  their  noisy  instruments 
of  martial  music,  by  which,  in  all  ages,  the  warfare  of  the 
Arabs  has  been  animated. 

They  soon  formed  a  deep  and  confused  mass  of  dismounted 
cavalry  in  front  of  their  encampment,  when,  at  the  signal 
of  a  shrill  cry,  which  arose  high  over  the  clangor  of  the 
music,  each  cavalier  sprung  to  his  saddle.  A  cloud  of  dust, 
arising  at  the  moment  of  this  maneuver,  hid  from  Eichard 
and  his  attendants  the  camp,  the  palm-trees,  and  the 
distant  ridge  of  mountains,  as  well  as  the  troops  Avhose 
sudden  movement  had  raised  the  cloud,  and,  ascending  high 
over  their  heads,  formed  itself  into  the  fantastic  forms  of 
wreathed  pillars,  domes,  and  minarets.  Another  shrill  yell 
was  heard  from  the  bosom  of  this  cloudy  tabernacle.  It 
was  the  signal  for  the  cavalry  to  advance,  which  they  did  at 
full  gallop,  disposing  themselves  as  they  came  forward,  so 
as  to  come  in  at  once  on  the  front,  flanks,  and  rear  of 
Richard's  little  body-guard,  who  were  thus  surrounded,  and 
almost  choked,  by  the  dense  clouds  of  dust  enveloping  them 
on  each  side,  through  which  were  seen  alternately,  and  lost, 
the  grim  forms  and  wild  faces  of  the  Saracens,  brandishing 
and  tossing  their  lances  in  every  possible  direction,  with  the 
wildest  cries  and  halloos,  and  frequently  only  reining  up 
their  horses  when  within  a  spear's  length  of  the  Christians, 
while  those  in  the  rear  discharged  over  the  heads  of  both 
parties  thick  volleys  of  arrows.  One  of  these  struck  the 
litter  in  wliich  the  Queen  was  seated,  who  loudly  screamed, 
and  the  red  spot  was  on  Eichard's  brow  in  an  instant. 

"^  Ha !  St.  George,"  he  exclaimed,  *'we  must  take  some 
order  with  this  infidel  scum  ! " 

But  Edith,  whose  litter  was  near,  thrust  her  head  out, 
and  with  her  hand  holding  one  of  the  shafts,  exclaimed, 
"  Eoyal  Eichard,  beware  what  you  do  :  see,  these  arrows  are 


THE  TALISMAN  285 

"Koble,  sensible  wench!*'  exclaimed  Eichard ;  "by 
Heaven,  thou  shamest  us  all  by  thy  readiness  of  thought 
and  eye.  Be  not  moved,  my  English  hearts,"  he  exclaimed 
to  his  followers  :  "  their  arrows  have  no  heads,  and  their 
spears,  too,  lack  the  steel  points.  It  is  but  a  wild  welcome, 
after  their  savage  fashion,  though  doubtless  they  would  re- 
joice to  see  us  daunted  or  disturbed.  Move  onward,  slow 
and  steady." 

The  little  phalanx  moved  forward  accordingly,  accom- 
panied on  all  sides  by  the  Arabs,  with  the  shrille'st  and  most 
piercing  cries,  the  bowmen,  meanwhile,  displaying  their 
agility  by  shooting  as  near  the  crests  of  the  Christians  as 
was  possible,  without  actually  hitting  them,  while  the 
lancers  charged  each  other  with  such  rude  blows  of  their 
blunt  w^eapons,  that  more  than  one  of  them  lost  his  saddle, 
and  well-nigh  his  life,  in  this  rough  sport.  All  this,  though 
designed  to  express  welcome,  had  rather  a  doubtful  appear- 
ance in  the  eyes  of  the  Europeans. 

As  they  had  advanced  nearly  half-way  toward  the  camp. 
King  Richard  and  his  suite  forming,  as  it  were,  the  nucleus 
round  which  this  tumultuary  body  of  horsemen  howled, 
whooped,  skirmished,  and  galloped,  creating  a  scene  of  in- 
describable confusion,  another  shrill  cry  was  heard,  on  wdiich 
all  these  irregulars,  who  were  on  the  front  and  upon  the 
flanks  of  the  little  body  of  Europeans,  wheeled  off,  and 
forming  themselves  into  a  long  and  deep  column,  followed 
with  comparative  order  and  silence  in  the  rear  of  Richard's 
troop.  The  dust  began  now  to  dissipate  in  tlieir  front,  wdien 
there  advanced  to  meet  them,  through  that  cloudy  veil,  a  body 
of  cavalry  of  a  different  and  more  regular  description,  com- 
pletely armed  with  offensive  and  defensive  weapons,  and  who 
might  well  have  served  as  a  body-guard  to  the  proudest  of 
Eastern  monarchs.  This  splendid  troop  consisted  of  five 
hundred  men,  and  each  horse  which  it  contained  was  worth 
an  earl's  ransom.  The  riders  were  Georgian  and  Circassian 
slaves  in  the  very  prime  of  life  ;  their  helmets  and  hauberks 
were  formed  of  steel  rings,  so  bright  that  they  shone  like 
silver  ;  their  vestures  were  of  the  gayest  colors,  and  some  of 
cloth  of  gold  or  silver ;  the  sashes  were  twisted  with  silk 
and  gold,  their  rich  turbans  were  plumed  and  jeweled,  and 
their  sabers  and  poniards,  of  Damascene  steel,  were  adorned 
with  gold  and  gems  on  hilt  and  scabbard. 

This  splendid  array  advanced  to  the  sound  of  military 
music,  and  when  they  met  the  Christian  body,  they  opened 
their  files  to  the  right  and  left,  and  let  them  enter' between 


286  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

their  ranks.  Richard  now  assumed  the  foremost  place  in 
his  troop,  aware  that  Saladin  himself  was  approaching. 
Nor  was  it  long  when,  in  the  center  of  his  bodyguard,  sur- 
rounded by  his  domestic  officers,  and  those  hideous  negroes 
who  guard  the  Eastern  harem,  and  whose  misshapen  forms 
were  rendered  yet  more  frightful  by  the  richness  of  their 
attire,  came  the  Soldan,  with  the  look  and  manners  of  one 
on  whose  brow  Nature  had  written,  This  is  a  King  !  In  his 
snow-white  turban,  vest,  and  wide  Eastern  trousers,  wearing 
a  sash  of  scarlet  silk,  without  any  other  ornament,  Saladin 
might  have  seemed  the  plainest  dressed  man  in  his  own 
guard.  But  closer  inspection  discerned  in  his  turban  that 
inestimable  gem,  which  was  called  by  the  poets  the  Sea  of 
Light ;  the  diamond  on  which  his  signet  was  engraved,  and 
which  he  wore  in  a  ring,  was  probably  worth  all  the  jewels 
of  the  English  crown,  and  a  sapphire,  which  terminated  the 
hilt  of  his  canjiar,  was  of  not  much  inferior  value.  It  should 
be  added  that  to  protect  him  from  the  dust,  which,  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Dead  Sea,  resembles  the  finest  ashes,  or,  per- 
haps, out  of  Oriental  pride,  the  Soldan  wore  a  sort  of  veil 
attached  to  his  turban,  which  partly  obscured  the  view  of 
his  noble  features.  He  rode  a  milk-white  Arabian,  which 
bore  him  as  if  conscious  and  proud  of  his  noble  burden. 

There  was  no  need  of  further  introduction.  The  two 
heroic  monarchs,  for  such  they  both  were,  threw  themselves 
at  once  from  horseback,  and  the  troops  halting  and  the  music 
suddenly  ceasing,  they  advanced  to  meet  each  other  in  pro- 
found silence,  and,  after  a  courteous  inclination  on  eitiier 
side,  they  embraced  as  brethren  and  equals.  The  pomp  and 
display  upon  both  sides  attracted  no  further  notice — no  one 
saw  aught  save  Richard  and  Saladin,  and  they  too  beheld 
nothing  but  each  other.  The  looks  with  which  Richard 
surveyed  Saladin,  were,  however,  more  intently  curious  than 
those  which  the  Soldan  fixed  upon  him  ;  and  the  Soldan 
also  was  the  first  to  break  silence. 

'*  The  Melech  Ric  is  welcome  to  Saladin  as  water  to  this 
desert.  I  trust  he  hath  no  distrust  of  this  numerous  array. 
Excepting  the  armed  slaves  of  my  household,  those  who  sur- 
round you  with  eyes  of  wonder  and  of  welcome,  are,  even 
the  humblest  of  them,  the  privileged  nobles  of  my  thousand 
tribes  ;  for  who  that  could  claim  a  title  to  be  present,  would 
remain  at  home  when  such  a  Prince  was  to  be  seen  as  Rich- 
ard, with  the  terrors  of  whose  name,  even  on  the  saiuls  of 
Yemen,  the  nurse  stills  her  child,  and  the  free  Arab  sub- 
dues his  restive  steed  I " 


THE  TALISMAN  287 

"  And  these  are  all  nobles  of  Araby  ?  "  said  Eichardj  look- 
ing around  on  wild  forms  with  their  persons  covered  with 
haiks,  their  countenance  swart  with  the  sunbeams,  their 
teeth  as  white  as  ivory,  their  black  eyes  glancing  with 
fierce  and  preternatural  luster  from  under  the  shade  of 
their  turbans,  and  their  dress  being  in  general  simple,  even 
to  meanness. 

"They  claim  such  rank,"  said  Saladin  ;  "but,  though 
numerous,  they  are  within  the  conditions  of  the  treaty,  and 
bear  no  arms  but  the  saber  ;  even  the  iron  of  their  lances  is 
left  behind." 

"I  fear,"  muttered  De  Vaux  in  English,  "  they  have  left 
them  where  they  can  be  soon  found.  A  most  flourishing 
House  of  Peers,  I  confess,  and  would  find  Westminster  Hall 
something  too  narrow  for  them." 

"Hush,  De  Vaux."  said  Eichard,  "I  command  thee. 
Noble  Saladin,"  he  said,  "  suspicion  and  thou  cannot,  exist  on 
the  same  ground.  Seest  thou,"  pointing  to  the  litters — "I 
too  have  brought  some  champions  with  me,  though  armed, 
perhaps,  in  breach  of  agreement,  for  bright  eyes  and  fair 
features  are  weapons  which  cannot  be  left  behind." 

The  Soldan,  turning  to  the  litters,  made  an  obeisance  as 
lowly  as  if  looking  towards  Mecca,  and  kissed  the  sand  in 
token  of  respect. 

"Nay,"  said  Eichard,  "they  will  not  fear  a  closer  en- 
counter, brother ;  wilt  thou  not  ride  towards  their  litters, 
and  the  curtains  will  be  presently  withdrawn." 

"That  may  Allah  prohibit  !"  said  Saladin,  "since  not  an 
Arab  looks  on  who  would  not  think  it  shame  to  the  noble 
ladies  to  be  seen  with  their  faces  uncovered.'^ 

' '  Thou  shalt  see  them,  then,  in  private,  my  royal  brother/' 
answered  Eichard. 

"To  what  purpose?"  answered  Saladin,  mournfully. 
"Thy  last  letter  was,  to  the  hopes  which  I  had  entertained, 
like  water  to  fire  ;  and  wherefore  should  I  again  light  a 
fiame  which  may  indeed  consume,  but  cannot  cheer,  me  ? 
But  will  not  my  brother  pass  to  the  tent  which  his  servant 
hath  prepared  for  him  ?  My  principal  black  slave  hath  taken 
order  for  the  reception  of  the  princesses  ;  the  officers  of  my 
household  will  attend  your  followers  ;  and  ourselves  will  be 
the  chambei'lain  of  the  royal  Eichard." 

He  led  the  way  accordingly  to  a  splendid  pavilion,  where 
was  everything  that  royal  luxury  could  devise.  De  Vaux, 
who  was  in  attendance,  then  removed  the  chappe  [capa)  or 
long  riding-cloak  which  Eichard  wore,  and  he  stood  before 


288  WAVERLEY  J^OVELS 

Saladin  in  the  close  dress  which  showed  to  advantage  the 
strength  and  symmetry  of  his  person,  while  it  bore  a  strong 
contrast  to  the  flowing  robes  which  disguised  the  thin  frame 
of  the  Eastern  monarcli.  It  was  Eichard's  two-handed  sword 
that  chiefly  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Saracen — a  broad 
straight  blade,  the  seemingly  unwieldy  length  of  which  ex- 
tended well-nigh  from  the  shoulder  to  the  heel  of  the  wearer. 

"  Had  I  not,"  said  Saladin,  "  seen  this  brand  flaming  in 
the  front  of  battle,  like  that  of  Azrael,  I  had  scarce  believed 
that  human  arm  could  wield  it.  Might  I  request  to  see  the 
Melech  Ric  strike  one  blow  with  it  in  peace,  and  in  pure 
trial  of  strength  ?  " 

"  Willingly,  noble  Saladin,**  answered  Eichard  ;  and  look- 
ing around  for  something  whereon  to  exercise  his  strength, 
he  saw  a  steel  mace,  held  by  one  of  the  attendants,  the 
handle  being  of  the  same  metal,  and  about  an  inch  and  a 
half  in  diameter.     This  he  placed  on  a  block  of  wood. 

The  anxiety  of  De  Vaux  for  his  master's  honor  led  him  to 
whisper  in  English,  "  For  the  blessed  Virgin's  sake,  beware 
what  you  attempt,  my  liege  !  Your  full  strength  is  not  as 
yet  returned  ;  give  no  triumjah  to  the  infidel." 

*'  Peace,  fool !  **  said  Eichard,  standing  firm  on  his  ground, 
and  casting  a  fierce  glance  around  ;  "  thinkest  thou  that  I 
can  fail  in  Jiis  presence  ?  " 

The  glittering  broadsword,  wielded  by  both  his  hands,  rose 
aloft  to  the  King's  left  shoulder,  circled  round  his  head, 
descended  with  the  sway  of  some  terrific  engine,  and  the  bar 
of  iron  rolled  on  the  ground  in  two  pieces,  as  a  woodsman 
would  sever  a  sapling  with  a  hedging-bill. 

''By  the  head  of  the  Prophet,  a  most  wonderful  blow  I" 
said  the  Soldan,  critically  and  accurately  examining  the  iron 
bar  which  had  been  cut  asunder  ;  and  the  blade  of  the  sword 
was  so  well  tempered  as  to  exhibit  not  the  least  token  of 
having  suffered  by  the  feat  it  had  performed.  He  then  took 
the  King's  hand,  and  looking  on  the  size  and  muscular 
strength  which  it  exhibited,  laughed  as  he  placed  it  beside 
his  own,  so  lank  and  thin,  so  inferior  in  brawn  and  sinew. 

*'  Ay,  look  well,"  said  De  Vaux,  in  English,  "  it  will  be 
long  ere  your  long  jackanape's  fingers  do  such  a  feat  with 
your  fine  gilded  reaping-hook  there." 

"Silence,  De  Vaux,"  said  Eichard;  "by  Our  Ladj,he 
understands  or  guesses  thy  meaning — be  not  so  broad,  I 
pray  thee." 

The  Soldan,  indeed,  presently  said — "  Something  I  would 
fain  attempt,  though  wherefore  should  the  weak  show  theii 


THE  TALISMAN  289 

inferiority  in  presence  of  tlie  strong  ?  Yet,  each  land  hath 
its  own  exercises,  and  this  may  be  new  to  the  Melech  Eic." 
So  saying,  he  took  from  the  floor  a  cushion  of  silk  and  down, 
and  placed  it  upright  on  one  end.  "  Can  thy  weapon,  my 
brother,  sever  that  cushion  ?  "  he  said  to  King  Eichard. 

"No,  surely,^'  rej^lied  the  King;  "no  sword  on  earth, 
were  it  the  Excalibar  of  King  Arthur,  can  cut  that  which 
opposes  no  steady  resistance  to  the  blow." 

'•  Mark,  then,"  said  Saladin  ;  and,  tucking  up  the  sleeve 
of  his  gown,  showed  his  arm,  thin  indeed  and  spare,  but 
which  constant  exercise  had  hardened  into  a  mass  consisting 
of  nought  but  bone,  brawn,  and  sinew.  He  unsheatlied  his 
scimitar,  a  curved  and  narrow  blade,  which  glittered  not  like 
the  swords  of  the  Franks,  but  was,  on  the  contrary,  of  a  dull 
blue  color,  marked  with  ten  millions  of  meandering  lines, 
which  showed  how  anxiously  the  metal  had  been  welded  by 
the  armorer.  Wielding  this  weapon,  apparently  su  ineffi- 
cient when  compared  to  that  of  Eichard,  the  Soldan  stood 
resting  his  weight  upon  his  left  foot,  which  was  slightly  ad- 
vanced ;  he  balanced  himself  a  little  as  if  to  steady  his  aim, 
then  stepping  at  once  forward,  drew  the  scimitar  across 
the  cushion,  applying  the  edge  so  dexterously,  and  with  so 
little  apparent  effort,  that  the  cushion  seemed  rather  to  fall 
asunder  than  to  be  divided  by  violence. 

"  It  is  a  juggler's  trick,"  said  De  Vaux,  darting  forward 
and  snatching  up  the  portion  of  the  cushion  which  had  been 
cut  off,  as  if  to  assure  himself  of  the  reality  of  the  feat ;  "  there 
is  gramarye  in  this." 

The  Soldan  seemed  to  comprehend  him,  for  he  undid  the 
sort  of  veil  which  he  had  hitherto  worn,  laid  it  double  along 
the  edge  of  his  saber,  extended  the  weapon  edgeways  in  the 
air,  and  di-awing  it  suddenly  through  the  veil,  although  it 
hung  on  the  blade  entirely  loose,  severed  that  also  into  two 
parts,  which  floated  to  different  sides  of  the  tent,  equally 
displaying  the  extreme  temper  and  sharpness  of  the  weapon 
and  the  exquisite  dexterity  of  him  who  used  it. 

"Now,  ill  good  faith,  my  brother,"  said  Eichard,  "thou 
art  even  matcliless  at  the  trick  of  the  sword,  and  right  peril- 
ous were  it  to  meet  thee.  Still,  however,  I  put  some  faith 
in  a  downright  English  blow,  and  what  we  cannot  do  by 
sleight  we  eke  out  by  strength.  Nevertheless,  in  truth  thou 
art  as  expert  in  inflicting  wounds  as  my  sage  Hakim  in  cur- 
ing them.  1  trust  I  shall  see  the  learned  leech  ;  I  have 
much  to  thank  him  for,  and  had  brought  some  small  pres- 
ent." 
19 


290  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

As  he  spoke,  Saladin  exchanged  his  turban  for  a  Tartar 
cap.  He  had  no  sooner  done  so,  than  De  Yaux  opened  at 
once  his  extended  mouth  and  his  large  round  eyes,  and 
Richard  gazed  with  scarce  less  astonishment,  while  the 
Soldan  spoke  in  a  grave  and  altered  voice  :  "  The  sick  man, 
sayeth  the  poet,  while  he  is  yet  infirm,  knoweth  the  physi- 
cian by  his  step  ;  but  when  he  is  recovered,  he  knoweth  not 
even  his  face  when  he  looks  upon  him." 

"A  miracle  ! — a  miracle  !  "  exclaimed  Kichard. 

"  Of  Mahound's  working,  doubtless,"  said  Thomas  de 
Vanx. 

"That  I  should  lose  my  learned  Hakim,"  said  Richard, 
"  merely  by  absence  of  his  cap  and  robe,  and  that  I  should 
find  him  again  in  my  royal  brother  Saladin  !  " 

•'  Such  is  oft  the  fashion  of  the  world,"  answered  the 
Soldan  :  "the  tattered  robe  makes  not  always  the  dervise." 

"And  it  Avas  through  thy  intercession,"  said  Richard, 
"  that  yonder  Knight  of  the  Leopard  was  saved  from  death  ; 
and  by  thy  artifice  that  he  revisited  my  camp  in  disguise  ?" 

"Even  so,"  replied  Saladin;  "I  was  physician  enough 
to  know  that,  unless  the  wounds  of  his  bleeding  honor  were 
stanched,  the  days  of  his  life  must  be  few.  His  disguise 
was  more  easily  penetrated  than  I  had  expected  from  the 
success  of  mv  own." 

"  An  accident,"  said  King  Richard  (probably  alluding  to 
the  circumstance  of  his  applying  his  lips  to  the  wound  of  the 
supposed  Xubian),  "let  me  first  know  that  his  skin  w\as  ar- 
tificially discolored  ;  and  that  hint  once  taken,  detection  be- 
came easy,  for  his  form  and  person  are  not  to  be  forgotten. 
I  confidently  expect  that  he  will  do  battle  on  the  morrow." 

"  He  is  full  in  preparation  and  high  in  hope,"  said  the 
Soldan.  "  I  have  furnished  him  with  weapons  and  horse, 
thinking  nobly  of  him  from  what  I  have  seen  under  various 
disguises." 

"  Knows  he  now,"  said  Richard,  "  to  whom  he  lies  under 
obligation  ?  " 

""He  doth,"  replied  the  Saracen  ;  "I  w^as  obliged  to  con- 
fess my  person  when  I  unfolded  my  purpose." 

"And  confessed  he  aught  to  you?"  said  the  King  of 
England. 

"  Nothing  explicit,"  replied  the  Soldan  ;  "  but  from  much 
that  passed  between  us,  I  conceive  his  love  is  too  highly 
placed  to  be  happy  in  its  issue." 

"And  thou  knowest  that  his  daring  and  insolent  passion 
crossed  thine  own  wishes  ?  "  said  Richard. 


THE  TA  uISMAN  291 

"  I  might  guess  so  much/'  said  Saladin  ;  "  but  his  passion 
had  existed  ere  my  wishes  had  been  formed,  and,  I  must  now 
add,  is  likely  to  survive  them,  I  cannot,  in  honor,  revenge 
me  for  my  disappointment  on  him  who  had  no  hand  in  it. 
Or,  if  this  high-born  dame  loved  him  better  than  myself, 
who  can  say  that  she  did  not  justice  to  a  knight,  of  her  own 
religion,  who  is  full  of  nobleness  ?  " 

"  Yet  of  too  mean  lineage  to  mix  with  the  blood  of  Plan- 
tagenet,"  said  Richard,  haughtily. 

"  Such  may  be  your  maxims  in  Frangistan,"  replied  the 
Soldan.  *'  Our  poets  of  the  Eastern  countries  say,  that  a 
valiant  camel-driver  is  worthy  to  kiss  the  lip  of  a  fair  queen, 
when  a  cowardly  prince  is  not  worthy  to  salute  the  hem  of 
her  garment.  But  with  your  permission,  noble  brother,  I 
must  take  leave  of  thee  for  the  present,  to  receive  the  Duke 
of  Austria  and  yonder  Nazarene  knight,  much  less  worthy 
of  hospitality,  but  who  must  yet  be  suitably  entreated,  not 
for  their  sakes,  but  for  mine  own  honor,  for  what  saith  the 
sage  Lokman — '  Say  not  that  the  food  is  lost  unto  thee  which 
is  given  to  the  stranger  ;  for  if  his  body  be  strengthened  and 
fattened  therewithal,  not  less  is  thine  own  worship  and  good 
name  cherished  and  augmented  ? ' " 

The  Saracen  monarch  departed  from  King  Richard's  tent, 
and  having  indicated  to  him,  rather  with  signs  than  with 
speech,  where  the  pavilion  of  the  Queen  and  her  attendants 
was  pitched,  he  went  to  receive  the  Marquis  of  Montserrat 
and  his  attendants,  for  whom,  with  less  good-will,  but  with 
equal  splendor,  the  magnificent  Soldan  had  provided  accom- 
modations.     The    most   ample   refreshments,    both    in   the 
i    Oriental  and  after  the  European  fashion,  were  spi-ead  before 
i   the  royal  and  princely  guests  of  Saladin,  each  in  their  own 
i    separate  pavilion  ;    and  so  attentive  was  the  Soldan  to  the 
i   habits  and  taste  of  his  visitors,   that  Grecian  slaves  were 
i   stationed  to  present  them  with   the  goblet,  which   is  the 
I   abomination  of  the  sect  of  Mohammed.     Ere  Richard  had 
I   finished  his  meal,  the  ancient  ofnrahj  who  had  brought  the 
!   Soldan's  letter  to  the  Christian  camp,  entered  with  a  plan  of 
;   the  ceremonial  to  be  observed  on  the  succeeding  day  of  com- 
bat.    Richard,  who  knew  the  taste  of  his  old  acquaintance, 
invited  him  to  pledge  him  in  a  flagon  of  wine  of  Schiraz  ; 
but  Abdallah  gave  him  to  understand,  with  a  rueful  aspect, 
that  self-denial,  in  the  present  circumstances,  was  a  matter 
in  which  his  life  was  concerned  ;  for  that  Saladin,  tolerant  in 
,   many  respects,  both  observed  and  enforced  by  high  penalties 
the  laws  of  the  prophet. 


292  WAVERLBY  NOVELS 

''  Nciy,  then,"  said  Eichard,  "  if  he  loves  not  wine,  that 
lightener  of  the  human  heart,  his  conversation  is  not  to  be 
hoped  for,  and  the  prediction  of  the  mad  priest  of  Engaddi 
goes  like  chaff  down  the  wind." 

The  King  then  addressed  himself  to  settle  the  articles  of 
combat,  which  cost  a  considerable  time,  as  it  was  necessary 
on  some  points  to  consult  with  the  opposite  parties,  as  well 
as  with  the  Soldan. 

They  were  at  length  finally  agreed  upon,  and  adjusted  by 
a  protocol  in  French  and  in  Arabian,  which  was  subscribed 
by  Saladin  as  umpire  of  the  field,  and  by  Richard  and  Leopold 
as  guarantees  for  the  two  combatants.  As  the  omrah  took 
his  final  leave  of  King  Richard  for  the  evening,  De  Vaux 
entered. 

"  The  good  knight,"  he  said,  "who  is  to  do  battle  to- 
morrow requests  to  know  whether  he  may  not  to-night  pay 
duty  to  his  royal  godfather  ?" 

"  Hast  thou  seen  him,  De  Vaux  ?"  said  the  King,  smil- 
ing ;  "  and  didst  thou  know  an  ancient  acquaintance  ?  " 

"  By  our  Lady  of  Lanercost,"  answered  De  Vaux,  "there 
are  so  many  surprises  and  changes  in  this  land,  that  my  poor 
brain  turns.  I  scarce  knew  Sir  Kenneth  of  Scotland  ti)l  his 
good  hound,  that  had  been  for  a  short  while  under  my  care, 
came  and  fawned  on  me  ;  and  even  then  I  only  knew  the  tyke 
by  the  depth  of  his  chest,  the  roundness  of  his  foot,  and 
his  manner  of  baying ;  for  the  poor  gaze-hound  was  painted 
like  any  Venetian  courtezan." 

"  Thou  art  better  skilled  in  brutes  than  men,  De  Vaux," 
said  the  King. 

"  I  will  not  deny,"  said  De  Vaux,  "  I  have  found  them 
ofttimes  the  honester  animals.  Also,  your  Grace  is  pleased 
to  term  me  sometimes  a  brute  myself ;  besides  that  I  serve 
the  Lion,  whom  all  men  acknowledge  the  king  of  brutes." 

"  By  St.  George,  there  thou  brokest  thy  lance  fairly  on 
my  brow,"  said  the  King.  "I  have  ever  said  thou  hast  a 
sort  of  wit,  De  Vaux — marry,  one  must  strike  tliee  with  a 
sledge-hammer  ere  it  can  be  made  to  sparkle.  But  to  the 
present  gear  ;  is  the  good  knight  well  armed  and  equipped  ?* 

"  Fully,  my  liege,  and  nobly,"  answered  De  Vaux  ;  "  I 
know  the  armor  well :  it  is  that  which  the  Venetian  com- 
missary offered  your  Highness,  just  ere  you  became  ill,  for 
five  hundred  bezants." 

"And  he  hath  sold  it  to  the  infidel  Soldan,  I  warrant  me, 
for  a  few  ducats  more,  and  present  payment.  These  Vene- 
tians would  sell  the  Sepulcher  itself  I'* 


THE  TALISMAN  2&S 

**  The  armor  will  never  be  borne  in  a  nobler  cause,"  said 
De  Vaux. 

''Thanks  to  the  nobleness  of  the  Saracen,"  said  the  King, 
''not  to  the  avarice  of  the  Venetians." 

"I  would  to  God  your  Grace  would  be  more  cautious," 
Baid  the  anxious  De  Vaux.  "  Here  are  we  deserted  by  all 
our  allies,  for  points  of  offense  given  to  one  or  another  ;  we 
cannot  hope  to  prosper  upon  the  land,  and  we  have  only  to 
quarrel  with  the  amphibious  republic  to  lose  the  means  of 
retreat  by  sea  ! " 

"  I  will  take  care,"  said  Eichard,  impatiently  ;  "  but  school 
me  no  more.  Tell  me  rather,  for  it  is  of  interest,  hath  the 
knight  a  confessor  ?" 

"He  hath,"  answered  De  Vaux;  "the  hermit  of  En- 
gaddi,  who  erst  did  him  that  office  when  preparing  for  death, 
attends  him  on  the  present  occasion,  the  fame  of  the  duel 
having  brought  him  hither." 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  Eichard  ;  "  and  now  for  the  knight's  re- 
quest. Say  to  him,  Eichard  will  receive  him  when  the  dis- 
charge of  his  devoir  beside  the  Diamond  of  the  Desert  shall 
have  atoned  for  his  fault  beside  the  Mount  of  St.  George  ; 
and  as  thou  passest  through  the  camp,  let  the  Queen  know 
I  will  visit  her  pavilion  ;  and  tell  Blondel  to  meet  me 
there." 

De  Vaux  departed,  and  in  about  an  hour  afterwards, 
Eichard,  wrapping  his  mantle  around  him,  and  taking  his 
ghittern  in  his  hand,  walked  in  the  direction  of  the  Queen's 
pavilion.  Several  Arabs  passed  him,  but  always  with  averted 
heads  and  looks  fixed  upon  the  earth,  though  he  could  ob- 
serve that  all  gazed  earnestly  after  him  when  he  was  past. 
This  led  him  justly  to  conjecture  that  his  person  was  known 
to  them,  but  that  either  the  Soldan's  commands  or  their  own 
Oriental  politeness  forbade  them  to  seem  to  notice  a  sovereign 
who  desired  to  remain  incognito. 

Wlien  the  King  reached  the  pavilion  of  his  Queen,  he 
found  it  guarded  by  those  unhappy  officials  whom  Eastern 
jealousy  places  around  the  zenana.  Blondel  was  walking 
before  the  door,  and  touched  his  rote  from  time  to  time  in 
a  manner  which  made  the  Africans  show  their  ivory  teeth, 
and  bear  burden  with  their  strange  gestures  and  shrill  un- 
natural voices. 

"  What  art  thou  after  with  this  herd  of  black  cattle, 
Blondel  ?"  said  the  King.  "  Wherefore  goest  thou  not  into 
the  tent'?" 

"  Because  my  trade  can  neither  spar©  the  head  nor  the 


294  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

fingers,"  said  Blond  el  ;  "and  these  honest  blackamco'S 
threatened  to  cut  me  joint  from  joint  if  I  jDressed  forwaia/' 
Well,  enter  with  me,"  said  the  King,  "  and  1  will  be  thy 
juard." 

The  blacks  accordingly  lowered  pikes  and  swords  to  King*  . 
Eichard,  and  bent  their  eyes  on  the  ground,  as  if  unworthy 
to  look  upon  him.  In  the  interior  of  the  pavilion,  they 
found  Thomas  de  Vaux  in  attendance  on  the  Queen.  "While 
Berengaria  welcomed  Blondel,  King  Eicha.-d  fspoke  for  some 
time  secretly  and  apart  with  his  fair  kinswoman. 

At  length,  "  Are  we  still  foes,  my  fair  Edith  ?''  he  said, 
in  a  whisper. 

"No,  my  liege,"  said  Edith,  in  a  voice  just  so  low  as  not 
to  interrupt  the  music  ;  "  none  can  bear  enmity  against 
King  Richard,  when  he  deigns  to  show  himself  as  he  really 
is,  generous  and  noble,  as  well  as  valiant  and  honorable.'' 
So  saying,  she  extended  her  hand  to  him. 

The  King  kissed  it  in  token  of  reconciliation,  and  then 
proceeded,  "You  think,  my  sweet  cousin,  that  my  anger 
in  this  matter  was  feigned  ;  but  you  are  deceived.  The 
punishment  I  inflicted  upon  this  knight  was  just ;  for  he 
had  betrayed — no  matter  for  how^  tempting  a  bribe,  fair 
cousin — the  trust  committed  to  him.  But  I  rejoice,  per- 
chance as  much  as  you,  that  to-morrow  gives  him  a  chance 
to  win  the  field,  and  throw  back  the  stain  which  for  a  time 
clung  to  him  upon  the  actual  thief  and  traitor.  Xo  !  future 
times  may  blame  Eichard  for  impetuous  folly  ;  but  they 
shall  say  that,  in  rendering  judgment,  he  was  just  when  he 
should,  and  merciful  when  he  could." 

"Laud  not  thyself,  cousin  King,"  said  Edith.  "They 
may  call  thy  justice  cruelty,  thy  mercy  capi'ice." 

"And  do  not  thou  jiride  thyself,"  said  the  King,  "as  if 
thy  knight,  who  hath  not  yet  buckled  on  his  armor,  were 
unbelting  it  in  triumph.  Conrade  of  Montserrat  is  held  a 
good  lance.     What  if  the  Scot  should  lose  the  day  ?" 

" It  is  impossible  !  "  said  Edith,  firmly.  "My  own  eyes 
saw  yonder  Conrade  tremble  and  change  color,  like  a  base 
thief.  He  is  guilty,  and  the  trial  by  combat  is  an  appeal  to 
the  justice  of  God.  I  myself,  in  such  a  cause,  would  en- 
counter him  without  fear." 

"  By  the  mass,  I  think  thou  wouldst,  wench,"  said  the 
King,  "  and  beat  him  to  boot ;  for  there  never  breathed  a 
truer  Plantagenet  than  thou." 

He  paused,  and  added  in  a  very  serious  tone,  "  See  that    * 
thou  continue  to  remember  what  is  due  to  thy  birth." 


THE  TALISMAN  295 

"  What  means  that  advice,  so  seriously  given  at  this 
moment  ?  "  said  Edith.  "  Am  I  of  such  light  nature  as  to 
forget  my  name — my  condition  ?  " 

"  I  will  speak  plainly,  Edith,"  answered  the  King,  "and 
as  to  a  friend  :  What  will  this  knight  be  to  you,  should  he 
come  off  victor  from  yonder  lists  ?  " 

"To  me?"  said  Edith,  blushing  deep  with  shame  and  dis- 
pleasure. "What  can  he  be  to  me  more  than  an  honored 
knight,  worthy  of  such  grace  as  Queen  Berengaria  might 
confer  on  him,  had  he  selected  her  for  his  lady,  instead  of  a 
more  unworthy  choice  ?  The  meanest  knight  may  devote 
himself  to  the  service  of  an  empress,  but  the  glory  of  his 
choice,"  she  said  proudly,  "must  be  his  reward." 

"  Yet  he  hath  served  and  suffered  much  for  you,"  said  th 
King. 

"I  have  paid  his  services  with  honor  and  applause,  an 
his  sufferings  Avith  tears,"  answered  Edith.  "  Had  he  dt 
sired  other  reward,  he  would  have  done  wisely  to  hav» 
bestowed  his  affections  within  his  own  degree." 

"  You  would  not  then  wear  the  bloody  night-gear  for  hi  • 
sake  ?  "  said  King  Richard. 

_  "  No  more,"  answered  Edith,  "  than  I  would  have  require© 
him  to  expose  his  life  by  an  action  in  which  there  was  more 
madness  than  honor." 

"  Maidens  talk  ever  thus,"  said  the  King  ;  "  but  when  the 
favored  lover  presses  his  suit,  she  says,  with  a  sigh,  her  stars 
had  decreed  otherwise." 

"Your  Grace  has  now,  for  the  second  time,  threatened 
me  with  the  influence  of  my  horoscope,"  Edith  replied,  with 
dignity.  "Trust  me,  my  liege,  whatever  be  the  power  of 
the  stars,  your  poor  kinswoman  will  never  wed  either  infidel 
or  obscure  adventurer.  Permit  me,  that  I  listen  to  the 
music  of  Blondel,  for  the  tone  of  your  royal  admonitions  is 
scarce  so  grateful  to  the  ear." 

The  conclusion  of  the  evening  offered  nothing  worthy  of 
aotice. 


CHAPTER  XXVin 

Heard  ye  the  din  of  battle  bray, 
Lance  to  lance,  and  horse  to  horse  ? 
Gray. 

It  had  been  agreed,  on  account  of  the  heat  of  the  climate^ 
that  the  judicial  combat,  which  was  the  cause  of  the  presenl 
assemblage  of  various  nations  at  the  Diamond  of  the  Desert, 
should  take  place  at  one  hour  after  sunrise.  The  wide  lists, 
which  had  been  constructed  under  the  inspection  of  the 
Knight  of  the  Leopard,  inclosed  a  space  of  hard  sand, 
which  was  one  hundred  and  twenty  yards  long  by  forty  in 
width.  They  extended  in  length  from  north  to  south,  so 
as  to  give  both  parties  the  equal  advantage  of  the  rising  sun. 
Saladin's  royal  seat  was  erected  on  the  western  side  of  the 
inclosure,  just  in  the  center,  where  the  combatants  were 
expected  to  meet  in  mid  encounter.  Opposed  to  this  was 
a  gallery  with  closed  casements,  so  contrived  that  the 
ladies,  for  whose  accommodation  it  was  erected,  might 
see  the  fight  without  being  themselves  exposed  to  view. 
At  either  extremity  of  the  lists  was  a  barrier,  which  could 
be  opened  or  shut  at  pleasure.  Thrones  had  been  also 
erected,  but  the  Archduke,  perceiving  that  his  was  lower 
than  King  Richard's,  refused  to  occupy  it ;  and  Coeur-de- 
Lion,  who  would  have  submitted  to  much  ere  any  formality 
should  have  interfered  with  the  combat,  readily  agreed  that 
the  sponsors,  as  they  were  called,  should  remain  on  horse- 
back during  the  fight.  At  one  extremity  of  the  lists  were 
placed  the  followers  of  Richard,  and  opposed  to  them  were 
those  who  accompanied  the  defender,  Conrad e.  Around 
the  throne  destined  for  the  Soldan  were  ranged  his  splended 
Georgian  Guards,  and  the  rest  of  the  inclosure  was  occupied 
by  (Ihristian  and  Mohammedan  spectators. 

L(mg  before  daybreak,  the  lists  were  surrounded  by  even 
a  larger  number  of  Saracens  than  Richard  had  seen  on  the 
preceding  evening.  When  the  first  ray  of  the  sun's  glorious 
orb  arose  above  the  desert,  the  sonorous  call,  "  To  prayer — 
to  prayer  ! "  was  poured  forth  by  the  Soldan  himself,  and 
answered  by  others,  whose  rank  and  zeal  entitled  them  tc 


THE  TALISMAN  297 

act  as  muezzins.  It  was  a  striking  spectacle  to  see  them  all 
sink  to  earth,  for  the  purpose  of  repeating  their  devotions, 
with  their  faces  turned  to  Mecca.  But  when  they  arose  from 
tlie  ground,  the  sun's  rays,  now  strengtliening  fast,  seemed 
to  confirm  the  Lord  of  Gilsland's  conjecture  of  the  night 
before.  They  were  flashed  back  from  many  a  spear-head, 
for  the  pointless  lances  of  the  preceding  day  were  certainl}^ 
no  longer  such.  De  Vaux  pointed  it  out  to  his  master,  who 
answered  with  impatience,  that  he  had  perfect  confidence 
in  the  good  faith  of  the  Soldan  ;  but  if  De  Vaux  was  afraid 
of  his  bulky  body,  he  might  retire. 

Soon  after  this  the  noise  of  timbrels  was  heard,  at  the 
sound  of  which  the  whole  Saracen  cavaliers  threw  them- 
selves from  their  horses,  and  prostrated  themselves,  as  if  for 
a  second  morning  prayer.  This  was  to  give  an  opportunity 
to  the  Queen,  with  Edith  and  her  attendants,  to  pass  from 
the  pavilion  to  the  gallery  intended  for  them.  Fifty  guards 
of  Saladin's  seraglio  escorted  them,  with  naked  sabers, 
whose  orders  were,  to  cut  to  pieces  whomsoever,  were  he 
prince  or  peasant,  should  venture  to  gaze  on  the  ladies  as 
they  passed,  or  even  presume  to  raise  his  head  until  the 
cessation  of  the  music  should  make  all  men  aware  that  they 
were  lodged  in  their  gallery,  not  to  be  gazed  on  by  the 
curious  eye. 

This  superstitious  observance  of  Oriental  reverence  to  the 
fair  sex  called  forth  from  Queen  Berengaria  some  criticisms 
very  unfavorable  to  Saladin  and  his  country.  But  their 
den,  as  the  royal  fair  called  it,  being  securely  closed  and 
guarded  by  their  sable  attendants,  she  was  under  the  neces- 
sity of  contenting  herself  with  seeing,  and  laying  aside  for 
the  present  the  still  more  exquisite  pleasure  of  being  seen. 

Meantime  the  sponsors  of  both  champions  went,  as  was 
their  duty,  to  see  that  they  were  duly  armed,  and  prepared 
for  combat.  The  Archduke  of  Austria  was  in  no  hurry  to 
perform  this  part  of  the  ceremony,  having  had  rather  an 
unusually  severe  debauch  upon  wine  of  Schiraz  tlie  preced- 
ing evening.  But  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Temple,  more 
deeply  concerned  in  the  event  of  the  combat,  was  early 
before  the  tent  of  Conrade  of  Montserrat.  To  his  great 
surprise,  the  attendants  refused  him  admittance. 

"  Do  you  not  know  me,  ye  knaves?''  said  the  Grand 
Master,  in  great  anger. 

•'  We  do,  most  valiant  and  reverend,"  answered  Conrade's 
squire  ;  "  but  even  you  may  not  at  present  enter  :  the  Mar- 
quis is  about  to  confess  himself." 


298  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

'' Confess  himself  !"  exclaimed  the  Templar,  in  a  tone 
where  alarm  mingled  with  surprise  and  scorn  ;  "  and  to 
whom,  I  pray  thee  ?" 

"  My  master  bid  me  be  secret,"  said  the  squire  ;  on  which 
the  Grand  Master  pushed  past  him,  and  entered  the  tent 
almost  by  force. 

The  Marquis  of  Montserrat  was  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  the 
hermit  of  Engaddi,  and  in  the  act  of  beginning  his  con- 
fession. 

"  What  means  this,  Marquis  ?"  said  the  Grand  Master; 
''  up,  for  shame — or,  if  you  must  needs  confess,  am  not 
I  here?" 

"  I  have  confessed  to  you  too  often  already,"  replied 
Conrade,  with  a  pale  cheek  and  a  faltering  voice.  "  For 
God's  sake,  Grand  Master,  begone,  and  let  me  unfold  my 
conscience  to  this  holy  man." 

''In  what  is  he  holier  than  I  am?"  said  the  Grand 
Master.  "  Hermit— prophet — madman,  say,  if  thou  darest, 
in  what  thou  excellest  me  ?  " 

"  Bold  and  bad  man,"  replied  the  hermit,  "  know  that  I 
am  like  the  latticed  window,  and  the  divine  light  passes 
through  to  avail  others,  though,  alas  !  it  helpeth  not  me. 
Thou  art  like  the  iron  stanchions,  which  neither  receive 
light  themselves  nor  communicate  it  to  any  one." 

"  Prate  not  to  me,  but  depart  from  this  tent,"  said  the 
Grand  Master  ;  "  the  Marquis  shall  not  confess  this  morning, 
unless  it  be  to  me,  for  I  part  not  from  his  side." 

"  Is  this  your  pleasure?"  said  the  hermit  to  Conrade; 
"  for  think  not  I  will  obey  that  proud  man,  if  you  continue 
to  desire  my  assistance." 

'' Alas,"  said  Conrade,  irresolutely,  "what  would  you 
have  me  say  ?     Farewell  for  a  while  ;"  we  will  speak  anon." 

"  Oh,  procrastination,"  exclaimed  the  hermit,  '•  thou  art 
a  soul- murderer  !  Unhappy  man,  farewell,  not  for  a  while, 
but  until  we  shall  both  meet — no  matter  where.  And  for 
thee,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  Grand  Master,  "  Tremble  ! " 

"  Tremble  ! "  replied  the  Templar,  contemptuously,  "  I 
cannot  if  I  would." 

The  hermit  heard  not  his  answer,  having  left  the  tent. 

"  Come,  to  this  gear  hastily,"  said  the  Grand  Master, 
"  since  thou  wilt  needs  go  through  the  foolery.  Hark  thee, 
I  think  I  know  most  of  thy  frailties  by  heart,  so  we  may 
omit  the  detail,  which  may  be  somewhat  a  long  one,  and 
begin  with  the  absolution.  What  signifies  counting  the  spots 
of  dirt  that  we  are  about  to  wash  from  our  hands  ?  " 


THE  TALISMAN  299 

**  Knowing  what  thou  art  th^'self,"  said  Conrade,  "  it  is 
blasphemous  to  speak  of  pardoning  anotlier." 

"  That  is  not  according  to  the  canon.  Lord  Marquis,"  said 
the  Templar  :  "  thou  art  more  scrupulous  than  orthodox. 
The  absolution  of  the  wicked  priest  is  as  effectual  as  if  he 
were  himself  a  saint ;  otherwise,  God  help  the  poor  penitent ! 
What  wounded  man  inquires  whether  the  surgeon  that  tents 
his  gashes  have  clean  hands  or  no  ?  Come,  shall  we  to  this 
toy?" 

"  No,"  said  Conrade,  "  I  will  rather  die  unconfessed  than 
mock  the  sacrament.** 

"  Come,  noble  Marquis/'  said  the  Templar,  ''  rouse  up 
your  courage,  and  speak  not  thus.  In  an  hoar's  time  thou 
shalt  stand  victorious  in  the  lists,  or  confess  thee  in  thy 
helmet  like  a  valiant  knight." 

*' Alas,  Grand  Master,"  answered  Conrade,  "all  augurs  ill 
for  this  aifair.  The  strange  discovery  by  the  instinct  of  a 
dog,  the  revival  of  this  Scottish  knight,  who  comes  into  the 
lists  like  a  specter — all  betokens  evil." 

"Pshaw,"  said  the  Templar,  "  I  have  seen  thee  bend  thy 
lance  boldly  against  him  in  sport,  and  with  equal  chance  of 
success  ;  think  thou  art  hut  in  a  tournament,  and  who 
bears  him  better  in  the  tilt-yard  than  thou  ?  Come,  squires 
and  armorers,  your  master  must  be  accoutered  for  tlie 
field." 

The  attendants  entered  accordingly,  and  began  to  arm  the 
Marquis. 

"  What  morning  is  without  ?"  said  Conrade. 

"The  sun  rises  dimly,"  answered  a  squire. 

"  Thou  seest,  Grand  Master,"  said  Conrade,  "  naught 
smiles  on  us." 

"  Thou  wilt  fight  the  more  coolly,  my  son,"  answered  the 
Templar  ;  "  thank  Heaven,  that  hath  tempered  the  sun  of 
Palestine  to  suit  thine  occasion." 

Thus  jested  the  Grand  Master  ;  but  his  jests  had  lost  their 
influence  on  the  harassed  mind  of  the  Marquis,  and,  not- 
withstanding his  attempts  to  seem  gay,  his  gloom  communi- 
cated itself  to  the  Templar. 

"  This  craven,"  he  thought,  "  will  lose  the  day  in  pure 
faintness  and  cowardice  of  heart,  wliich  he  calls  tender  con- 
science. I,  whom  visions  and  auguries  shake  not — who  am 
firm  in  my  purpose  as  the  living  rock — I  should  have  fought 
the  combat  myself.  Would  to^God  the  Scot  may  strike  him 
dead  on  the  spot ;  it  were  next  best  to  his  winning  the  vic- 
tory.    But  come  what  will,  he  must  have  no  other  confessor 


300  fVAVEULEY  NOVELS 

than  myself  ;  our  sins  are  too  mucli  in  common,  and  he  might 
confess  my  share  with  his  own." 

While  these  thoughts  passed  through  his  mind,  he 
continued  to  assist  the  Marquis  in  arming,  but  it  was  in 
silence. 

The  hour  at  length  arrived,  the  trumpets  sounded,  the 
knights  rode  into  the  lists  armed  at  all  points,  and  mounted 
like  men  who  were  to  do  battle  for  a  kingdom's  honor. 
They  wore  their  vizors  up,  and  riding  around  the  lists  three 
times,  showed  themselves  to  the  spectators.  Both  were 
goodly  persons,  and  both  had  noble  countenances.  But 
there  was  an  air  of  manly  confidence  on  the  brow  of  the  Scot 
— a  radiancy  of  hope,  which  amounted  even  to  cheerfulness, 
while,  although  pride  and  effort  had  recalled  much  of  Con- 
rade's  natural  courage,  there  lowered  still  on  his  brow  a  cloud 
of  ominous  despondence.  Even  his  steed  seemed  to  tread 
less  liglitly  and  blithely  to  the  trumpet-sound  than  the  noble 
Arab  which  was  bestrode  by  Sir  Kenneth  ;  and  the  spruch- 
sprecher  shook  his  head  while  he  observed  that,  while  the 
challenger  rode  around  the  lists  in  the  course  of  the  sun, 
that  is,  from  right  to  left,  the  defender  made  the  same  cir- 
cuit ividdersins,  that  is,  from  left  to  right,  which  is  in 
most  countries  held  ominous. 

A  temporary  altar  was  erected  just  beneath  the  gallery  oc- 
cupied by  the  Queen,  and  beside  it  stood  the  hermit  in  the 
dress  of  his  order  as  a  Carmelite  friar.  Other  churchmen 
were  also  present.  To  this  altar  the  challenger  and  de- 
fender were  successively  brought  forward,  conducted  by  their 
respective  sponsors.  Dismounting  before  it,  each  knight 
avouched  the  justice  of  his  cause  by  a  solemn  oath  on  the 
Evangelists,  and  prayed  that  his  success  might  be  according 
to  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  what  he  then  swore.  They  also 
made  oath  that  they  came  to  do  battle  in  knightly  guise, 
and  with  the  usual  weapons,  disclaiming  the  use  of_  spells, 
charms,  or  magical  devices,  to  incline  victory  to  their  side. 
The  challenger  pronounced  his  vow  with  a  firm  and  manly 
voice,  and  a  bold  and  cheerful  countenance.  When  the 
ceremony  was  finished,  the  Scottish  knight  looked  at  the 
gallery,  and  bent  his  head  to  the  earth,  as  if  in  honor  of 
those  invisible  beauties  which  were  inclosed  within  ;  then, 
loaded  with  armor  as  he  was,  sprung  to  the  saddle  without 
the  use  of  the  stirrup,  and  made  his  courser  carry  him  in  a 
succession  of  caracoles  to  his  station  at  the  eastern  extremity 
of  the  lists.  Conrade  also  presented  himself  before  the  altar 
with  boldness  enough ;  but  his  voice,  as  he  took  the  oath. 


TEE  TALISMAN  SOI 

sounded  hollow,  as  if  drowned  in  his  helmet.  The  lips  with 
which  he  appealed  to  Heaven  to  adjudge  victory  to  the  just 
quarrel  grew  white  as  they  uttered  the  impious  mockery. 
As  he  turned  to  remount  his  horse,  the  Grand  Master  ap- 
proached him  closer,  as  if  to  rectify  something  about  the 
sitting  of  his  gorget,  and  whispered — "  Coward  and  fool ! 
recall  thy  senses,  and  do  me  this  battle  bravely,  else,  by 
Heaven,  shouldst  thou  escape  him,  thou  escapest  not  we/" 

The  savage  tone  in  which  this  was  whispered  perhaps  com- 
pleted the  confusion  of  the  Marquis's  nerves,  for  he  stumbled 
as  he  made  to  horse  ;  and  though  he  recovered  his  feet, 
sprung  to  the  saddle  with  his  usual  agility,  and  displayed  his 
address  in  horsemanship  as  he  assumed  his  position  opposite 
CO  the  challenger's,  yet  the  accident  did  not  escape  those 
who  were  on  the  watch  for  omens,  which  might  predict  the 
fate  of  the  day. 

The  priests",  after  a  solemn  prayer  that  God  would  show 
the  rightful  quarrel,  departed  from  the  lists.  The  trum- 
pets of^'the  challenger  then  rung  a  flourish,  anda  herald-at- 
arms  proclaimed  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  lists — "Here 
stands  a  good  knight,  Sir  Kenneth  of  Scotland,  champion 
for  the  royal  King  Richard  of  England,  who  accuseth  Con- 
rade  Marquis  of  Montserrat  of  foul  treason  and  dishonor 
dune  to  the  said  king." 

When  the  words  Kenneth  of  Scotland  announced  the 
name  and  character  of  the  champion,  hitherto  scarce  gener- 
ally known,  a  loud  and  cheerful  acclaim  burst  from  the 
followers  of  King  Richard,  and  hardly,  notwithstanding 
repeated  commands  of  silence,  suffered  the  reply  of  the  de- 
fendant to  be  heard.  He,  of  course,  avouched  his  innocence, 
and  offered  his  body  for  battle.  The  esquires  of  the  com- 
batants now  approached,  and  delivered  to  each  his  shield  and 
lance,  assisting  to  hang  the  former  around  his  neck,  that  his 
two  hands  might  remain  free,  one  for  the  management  of 
the  bridle,  the  other  to  direct  the  lance. 

The  shield  of  the  Scot  displayed  his  old  bearing,  the  leo- 
p;ird,  but  with  the  addition  of  a  collar  and  broken  chain,  in 
allusion  to  his  late  captivity.  The  shield  of  the  Marquis 
bore,  in  reference  to  his  title,  a  serrated  and  rocky  mountain. 
Each  shook  his  lance  aloft,  as  if  to  ascertain  the  weight  and 
toughness  of  the  unwieldy  weapon,  and  then  laid  it  in  the 
rest"  The  sponsors,  heralds,  and  squires  now  retired  to  the 
barriers,  and  the  combatants  sat  opposite  to  each  other,  face 
to  face,  with  couched  lance  and  closed  vizor,  the  human 
form   so   completely   enclosed  that   they   looked  more  like 


302  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

statues  of  molten  iron  than  beings  of  flesh  and  blood.  The 
silence  of  suspense  was  now  general  :  men  breathed  thicker, 
and  their  very  souls  seemed  seated  in  their  eyes,  while  not  a 
sound  was  to  be  heard  save  the  snorting  and  pawing  of  the 
good  steeds,  who,  sensible  of  what  was  about  to  haj)pen, 
were  impatient  to  dash  into  career.  They  stood  thus  for 
perhaps  three  minutes,  when,  at  a  signal  given  by  the  Soldan, 
an  hundred  instruments  rent  the  air  with  their  brazen 
clamors,  and  each  champion  striking  his  horse  with  the 
spurs  and  slacking  the  rein,  the  horses  started  into  full 
gallop,  and  the  knights  met  in  mid  space  with  a  shock  like 
a  thunderbolt.  The  victory  was  not  in  doubt — no,  not  one 
moment.  Conrade,  indeed,  showed  himself  a  practised  war- 
rior ;  for  he  struck  his  antagonist  knightly  in  the  midst  of 
his  shield,  bearing  his  lance  so  straight  and  true  that  it 
shivered  into  splinters  from  the  steel  spear-head  up  the  very 
gauntlet.  The  horse  of  Sir  Kenneth  recoiled  two  or  three 
yards  and  fell  on  his  haunches,  but  the  rider  easily  raised 
him  with  his  hand  and  rein.  But  for  Conrade  there  was  no 
recovery.  Sir  Kenneth's  lance  had  pierced  through  the 
shield,  through,  a  plated  corslet  of  Milan  steel,  through  a 
"  secret,"  or  coat  of  linked  mail,  worn  beneath  the  corslet, 
Had  wounded  him  deep  in  the  bosom,  and  borne  him  from 
his  saddle,  leaving  the  truncheon  of  the  lance  flxed  in  his 
wound.  The  sponsors,  heralds,  and  Saladin  himself,  de- 
scending from  his  throne,  crowded  around  the  wounded 
man  ;  while  Sir  Kenneth,  who  had  drawn  his  sword  ere  yet 
he  discovered  his  antagonist  was  totally  helpless,  now  com- 
manded him  to  avow  his  guilt.  The  helmet  was  hastily  un- 
closed, and  the  wounded  man,  gazing  wildly  on  the  skies, 
replied — "  What  would  you  more  ?  God  hath  decided 
Justly  :  I  am  guilty  ;  but  there  are  worse  traitors  in  the 
camp  than  I.     In  pity  to  my  soul,  let  me  have  a  confessor  !  " 

He  revived  as  he  uttered  these  words. 

"  The  talisman — the  powerful  remedy,  royal  brother  I  " 
said  King  Richard  to  Saladin. 

''The  traitor,"  answered  the  Soldan,  "is  more  fit  to  be 
dragged  from  the  lists  to  the  gallows  by  the  heels  than  to 
profit  by  its  virtues  ;  and  some  such  fate  is  in  his  look,"  he 
added,  after  gazing  fixedly  upon  the  wounded  man;  "for, 
though  his  wound  may  be  cured,  yet  AzraeFs  seal  is  on  the 
wretch's  brow." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Richard,  "  I  pray  you  do  for  him 
what  you  may,  that  he  may  at  least  have  time  for  confession. 
Slay  not  soul  and  body.     To  him  one  half-hour  of  time  may 


THE  TALISMAN  SOS 

be  worth  more,  by  ten  thousandfold,  than  the  life  of  the 
oldest  patriarch." 

"  My  royal  brother's  v/ish  shall  be  obeyed,"  said  Saladin. 
"Slaves,  bear  this  wounded  man  to  our  tent." 

"  Do  not  so,"  said  the  Templar,  who  had  hitherto  stood 
gloomily  looking  on  in  silence.  "  The  royal  Duke  of  Austria 
and  myself  will  not  j)ermit  this  unhappy  Christian  j^rince  to 
be  delivered  over  to  the  Saracens,  that  they  may  try  their 
spells  upon  him.  We  are  his  sponsors,  and  demand  that  he 
be  assigned  to  our  care." 

"  That  is,  you  refuse  the  certain  means  offered  to  recover 
him  ?"  said  Richard. 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  Grand  Master,  recollecting  himself. 
**  If  the  Soldau  useth  lawful  medicines,  he  may  attend  the 
patient  in  my  tent." 

*'  Do  so,  I  pray  thee,  good  brother,"  said  Eichard  to  Saladin, 
*' though  the  permission  be  ungraciously  yielded.  But  now 
to  a  more  glorious  work.  Sound,  trumpets — shout,  England 
— in  honor  of  England's  champion  ! " 

Drum,  clarion,  trumpet,  and  cymbal  rung  forth  at  once, 
and  the  deep  and  regular  shout  which  for  ages  has  been  the 
English  acclamation  sounded  amidst  the  shrill  and  irregular 
yells  of  the  Arabs,  like  the  diapason  of  the  organ  amid  the 
howling  of  a  storm.     There  was  silence  at  length. 

"  Brave  Knight  of  the  Leopard,"  resumed  Coeur-de-Lion, 
**  thou  hast  shown  that  the  Ethiopian  may  change  his  skin, 
and  the  leopard  his  spots,  though  clerks  quote  Scripture  for 
the  impossibility.  Yet  I  have  more  to  say  to  you  when  I 
have  conducted  you  to  the  presence  of  the  ladies,  the  best 
judges  and  best  rewarders  of  deeds  of  chivalry." 

The  Knight  of  the  Leopard  bowed  assent. 

*'And  thou,  princely  Saladin,  wilt  also  attend  them.  I 
promise  thee  our  Queen  will  not  think  herself  welcome,  if 
she  lacks  the  opportunity  to  thank  her  royal  host  for  her 
most  princely  reception." 

Saladin  bent  his  head  gracefully,  but  declined  the  invita- 
tion. 

"  1  must  attended  the  wounded  man,"  he  said.  "  The 
leech  leaves  not  his  patient  more  than  the  champion  the  lists, 
even  if  he  be  summoned  to  a  bower  like  those  of  Paradise. 
And  farther,  royal  Richard,  know  that  the  blood  of  the  East 
flows  not  so  temperately  in  the  presence  of  beauty  as  that  of 
your  land.  What  saith  the  Book  itself — '  Her  eye  is  as  the 
edge  of  the  sword  of  the  Prophet,  who  shall  look  upon  it  ?' 
He  that  would  not  bes  burnt  avoideth  to  tread  on  hot  embers  j 


304  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

wise  men  spread  not  the  flax  before  a  bickering  torch. 
'  He/  siiith  the  sage,  '  who  hath  forfeited  a  treasure,  doth 
not  wisely  to  turn  back  his  head  to  gaze  at  it.' 

Kichard,  it  may  be  believed,  respected  the  motives  of 
delicacy  which  fiowed  from  manners  so  different  from  his  own, 
and  urged  his  request  no  farther. 

"  At  noon,"  said  the  Soldan,  as  he  departed,  "  I  trust  ye 
will  all  accept  a  collation  under  the  black  camel-skin  tent  of 
a  chief  of  Kurdistan." 

The  same  invitation  was  circulated  among  the  Christians, 
comprehending  all  those  of  sufficient  importance  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  sit  at  a  feast  made  for  princes. 

"  Hark  ! "  said  Richard,  "  the  timbrels  announce  that  our 
Queen  and  her  attendants  are  leaving  their  gallery  ;  and  see, 
the  turbans  sink  on  the  ground,  as  if  struck  down  by  a  de- 
stroying angel.  All  lie  prostrate,  as  if  the  glance  of  an 
Arab's  eye  could  sully  the  luster  of  a  lady's  cheek  !  Come, 
we  will  to  the  pavilion,  and  lead  our  conqueror  thither  in 
triumph.  How  I  pity  that  noble  Soldan,  who  knows  but  of 
love  as  it  is  known  to  those  of  inferior  nature  !" 

Bloudel  tuned  his  harp  to  its  boldest  measure,  to  welcome 
the  introduction  of  the  victor  into  the  pavilion  of  Queen 
Berengaria.  He  entered,  s>.pported  on  either  side  by  his 
sponsors,  Richard  and  Thomas  [William]  Longsword,  and 
knelt  gracefully  down  before  the  Queen,  thougii  more  than 
half  the  homage  was  silently  rendered  to  Edith,  who  sat  on 
her  right  hand. 

"  Unarm  him,  my  mistresses,"  said  the  King,  whose  de- 
light was  in  the  execution  of  such  chivalrous  usages.  "^Let 
beauty  honor  chivalry  !  Undo  his  spurs,  Berengaria  ;  Queen 
though  thou  be  thou  owest  him  what  marks  of  favor  thou 
canst  give.  Unlace  his  helmet,  Edith — by  this  hand  thou 
shalt,  wert  thou  the  j^roudest  Plantagenet  of  the  line,  and 
he  the  poorest  knight  on  earth  ! " 

Both  ladies  obeyed  the  royal  commands — Berengaria  with 
bustling  assiduity,  as  anxious  to  gratify  her  husband's 
humor,  and  Edith  blushing  and  growing  pale  alternately,  as 
slowly  and  awkwardly  she  undid,  with  Longsword's  assist- 
ance, the  fastenings  which  secured  the  helmet  to  the  gorget. 

*'And  what  expect  yon  from  beneath  this  iron  shell?" 
said  Richard,  as  the  removal  of  the  casque  gave  to  view  the 
noble  countenance  of  Sir  Kenneth,  his  face  glowing  with 
recent  exertion,  and  not  less  so  with  present  emotion. 
"  What  think  ye  of  him,  gallants  and  beauties  ? "  said 
Hichard.      *'  Doth  he  resemble  an  Ethiopian  slave,  or  doth 


THE  TALISMAN  305 

he  present  the  face  of  an  obscure  and  nameless  adventurer  ? 
No,  by  my  good  sword  !  Here  terminate  his  various  dis- 
guises. He  hatli  knelt  down  before  you  unknown  save  by  his 
worth  ;  he  arises  equally  distinguished  by  birth  and  by  for- 
tune. The  adventurous  knight,  Kenneth,  arises  David  Earl 
of  Huntingdon,  Prince  Eoyal  of  Scotland  !" 

There  was  a  general  exclamation  of  surjn-ise,  and  Edith 
dropped  from  her  hand  the  helmet  which  she  had  just 
received. 

"  Yes,  my  masters,"  said  the  King,  "  it  is  even  so.  Ye 
know  how  Scotland  deceived  us  when  she  proposed  to  send 
this  valiant  earl,  with  a  bold  company  of  her  best  and  noblest, 
to  aid  our  arms  in  this  conquest  of  Palestine,  but  failed  to 
comply  with  her  engagements.  This  noble  youth,  under 
whom  the  Scottish  Crusaders  were  to  have  been  arrayed, 
thought  foul  scorn  that  his  arm  should  be  withheld  from  the 
holy  warfare,  and  joined  us  at  Sicily  with  a  small  train  of 
devoted  and  faithful  attendants,  which  was  augmented  by 
many  of  his  countrymen  to  whom  the  rank  of  their  leader 
was  unknown.  Tlie  confidants  of  the  royal  prince  had  all, 
save  one  old  follower,  fallen  by  death,  when  his  secret,  but 
too  well  kept,  had  nearly  occasioned  my  cutting  ofp,  in  a 
Scottish  adventurer,  one  of  the  noblest  hopes  of  Europe. 
Why  did  you  not  mention  your  rank,  noble  Huntingdon, 
when  endangered  by  my  hasty  and  passionate  sentence? 
Was  it  that  you  thought  Eichard  capable  of  abusing  the 
advantage  I  possessed  over  the  heir  of  a  king  whom  I  have 
so  often  found  hostile  ?" 

"  I  did  you  not  that  injustice,  royal  Richard,''  answered 
the  Earl  of  Huntingdon  ;  "but  my  pride  brooked  not  that 
I  should  avow  myself  Prince  of  Scotland  in  order  to  save  my 
life,  endangered  for  default  of  loyalty.  And,  moreover,  I 
had  made  my  vow  to  preserve  my  rank  unknown  till  the 
Crusade  should  be  accomplished  ;  nor  did  I  mention  it  save  in 
articulo  mortis,  and  under  the  seal  of  confession,  to  yonder 
reverend  hermit." 

"  It  was  the  knowledge  of  that  secret,  then,  which  made 
the  good  man  so  urgent  with  me  to  recall  my  severe  sen- 
tence ?  "  said  Richard.  "  Well  did  he  say  that,  had  this  good 
knight  fallen  by  my  mandate,  I  should  have  wished  the  deed 
undone  though  it  had  cost  me  a  limb.  A  limb  !  I  should 
have  wished  it  undone  had  it  cost  me  my  life,  since  the  world 
would  have  said  that  Richard  had  abused  the  condition  in 
which  the  heir  of  Scotland  had  placed  himself,  by  his  con- 
fidence in  his  generosity." 
20 


306  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

"  Yet,  may  we  know  of  your  Grace  by  what  strange  and 
happy  chance  this  riddle  was  at  length  read?"  said  the 
Queen  Berengaria. 

"  Letters  were  brought  to  ns  from  England,"  said  the  King 
"in  which  we  learnt,  among  other  unpleasant  news,  that  the 
King  of  Scotland  had  seized  upon  three  of  our  nobles,  when  on 
a  pilgrimage  to  St.  Ninian,  and  alleged  as  a  cause  that  his  heir, 
being  supposed  to  be  fighting  in  the  ranks  of  the  Teutonic 
Knights  against  the  heathen  of  Borussia,  was,  in  fact,  in  our 
camp  and  m  our  power  ;  and,  therefore,  William  proposed  to 
hold  these  nobles  as  hostages  for  his  safety.  This  gave  me 
the  first  light  on  the  real  rank  of  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard, 
and  my  suspicions  were  confirmed  by  De  Vaux,  who,  on  his 
return  from  Asca^on,  brought  back  with  him  the  Earl  of 
Huntingdon's  sole  attendant,  a  thick-skulled  slave,  who  had 
gone  thirty  miles  to  unfold  to  De  Vaux  a  secret  he  should 
have  told  to  me." 

"  Old  Strauchan  must  be  excused,"  said  the  Lord  of  Gils- 
land.  "  He  knew  from  experience  that  my  heart  is  some- 
what softer  than  if  I  wrote  myself  Plantagenet." 

''  Thy  heart  soft,  thou  commodity  of  old  iron  and  Cumber- 
land flint  that  thou  art  !"  exclaimed  the  King.  "  It  is  we 
Plantagenets  who  boast  soft  and  feeling  hearts,  Edith,"  turn- 
ing to  his  cousin,  with  an  expression  which  called  the  blood 
into  her  cheek.  "  Give  me  thy  hand,  my  fair  cousin,  and, 
Prince  of  Scotland,  thine." 

"Forbear,  my  lord,"  said  Edith,  hanging  back,  and  en- 
deavoring to  hide  her  confusion  under  an  attempt  to  rally 
her  royal  kinsman's  credulity.  "  Eemember  you  not  that  my 
hand  was  to  be  the  signal  of  converting  to  the  Christian  faith 
the  Saracen  and  Arab,  Saladin  and  all  his  turbaned  host  ?  " 

"  Ay,  but  the  wind  of  prophecy  hath  chopped  about,  and 
sits  now  in  another  corner,"  replied  Richard. 

"  Mock  not,  lest  your  bonds  be  made  strong,"  said  the 
hermit,  stepping  forward.  "  The  heavenly  host  write 
nothing  but  truth  in  their  brilliant  records  :  it  is  man's  eyes 
which  are  too  weak  to  read  their  characters  aright.  Know  that, 
when  Saladin  and  Kenneth  of  Scotland  slept  in  my  grotto,  1 
read  in  the  stars  that  there  rested  under  my  roof  a  prince, 
the  natural  foe  of  Eiehard,  with  whom  the  fate  of  Edith 
Plantagenet  was  to  be  united.  Could  I  doubtthat  this  must 
be  the  Soldan,  whose  rank  was  well  known  to  me,  as  he  oftet; 
visited  my  cell  to  converse  on  the  revolutions  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  ?  Again,  the  lights  of  the  firmament  proclaimed  that 
this  prince,  the  husband  of  Edith  Plantagenet,  should  be  a 


THE  TALISMAN  301 

Christian  ;  and  I — weak  and  wild  interpreter  ! — argued  thence 
the  conversion  of  the  noble  Saladin,  whose  good  qualities 
seemed  often  to  incline  him  towards  the  better  faith.  The 
sense  of  my  weakness  hath  humbled  me  to  the  dust,  but  in 
the  dust,  I  have  found  comfort.  I  have  not  read  aright  the 
e  of  others  ;  who  can  assure  me  but  that  I  may  have  mis- 
calculated  mine  own  ?  God  will  not  have  us  break  into  His 
council-house  or  spy  out  His  hidden  mysteries.  We  must 
wait  His  time  with  watching  and  prayer,  with  fear  and  with 
hope.  I  came  hither  the  stern  seer — the  proud  prophet — 
skilled,  as  I  thought,  to  instruct  princes,  and  gifted  even  with 
supernatural  powers,  but  burdened  with  a  weight  which  I 
/leemed  no  shoulders  but  mine  could  have  borne.  But  my 
hands  have  been  broken  :  I  go  hence  humble  in  my  ignorance, 
penitent,  and  not  hopeless." 

With  these  words  he  withdrew  from  the  assembly  ;  and  it 
is  recorded  that,  from  that  period,  his  frenzy  fits  seldom 
occurred,  and  his  penances  were  of  a  milder  character,  and 
accompanied  with  better  hopes  of  the  future.  So  much  is 
there  of  self-opinion,  even  in  insanity,  that  the  conviction  of 
his  having  entertained  and  expressed  an  unfounded  predic- 
tion with  so  much  vehemence  seemed  to  operate,  like  loss  of 
blood  on  the  human  frame,  to  modify  and  lower  the  fever  of 
the  brain. 

It  is  needless  to  follow  into  farther  particulars  the  confer- 
ences at  the  royal  tent,  or  to  inquire  whether  David  Earl  of 
xiuntingdon  was  as  mute  in  the  presence  of  Edith  Plantageuet 
as  when  he  was  bound  to  act  under  the  character  of  an 
obscure  and  nameless  adventurer.  It  may  be  well  believed 
that  he  there  expressed,  with  suitable  earnestness,  the  pas- 
sion to  which  he  had  so  often  before  found  it  difficult  to  give 
words. 

The  hour  of  noon  now  approached,  and  Saladin  waited  to 
receive  the  princes  of  Christendom  in  a  tent  which,  but  for 
its  large  size,  differed  little  from  that  of  the  ordinary  shelter 
3f  the  common  Kurdman,  or  Arab  ;  yet  beneath  its  ample 
ind  sable  covering  was  prepared  a  banquet  after  the  most 
gorgeous  fashion  of  the  East,  extended  upon  carpets  of  the 
richest  stuffs,  with  cushions  laid  for  the  guests.  But  we 
3annot  stop  to  describe  the  cloth  of  gold  and  silver,  the 
uipcrb  embroidery  in  arabesque,  the  shawls  of  Cashmere, 
md  the  muslins  of  India,  which  were  here  unfolded  in  all 
:heir  splendor  :  far  less  to  tell  the  different  sweetmeats, 
'agouts  edged  with  rice  colored  in  various  manners,  with  all 
ihe    other   niceties    of    Eastern    cookery.     Lambs   roasted 


308  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

whole,  and  game  and  poultry  dressed  in  pilaus,  were  piled  in 
vessels  of  gold,  and  silver,  and  porcelain,  and  intermixed 
with  large  mazers  of  sherbet,  cooled  in  snow  and  ice  from  the 
caverns  of  Mount  Lebanon.  A  magnificent  pile  of  cushions 
at  the  head  of  the  banquet  seemed  prepared  for  the  master 
of  the  feast  and  such  dignitaries  as  he  might  call  to  share 
that  place  of  distinction,  while,  from  the  roof  of  the  tent  in 
all  quarters,  but  over  this  seat  of  eminence  in  particular, 
waved  many  a  banner  and  pennon,  the  trophies  of  battles 
won  and  kingdoms  overthrown.  But  amongst  and  above 
them  all,  a  long  lance  displayed  a  shroud,  the  banner  of 
Death,  with  this  impressive  inscription — "Saladin",  Kixg 
OF  Kings — Saladin,  Victor  of  Victor? — Saladix  must 
DIE."  Amid  these  preparations,  the  slaves  who  had  ar- 
ranged the  refreshments  stood  with  drooped  heads  and  folded 
arms,  mute  and  motionless  as  monumental  statuary,  or  as 
automata,  which  waited  the  touch  of  the  artist  to  put  them 
in  motion. 

Expecting  the  approach  of  his  princely  guests,  the  Soldan, 
imbued,  as  most  were,  with  the  superstitioiis  of  his  time, 
paused  over  a  horoscope  and  corresponding  scroll,  which  had 
been  sent  to  him  by  the  hermit  of  Engaddi  when  he  departed 
from  the  camp. 

"  Strange  and  mysterious  science,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self, "  which,  pretending  to  draw  the  curtain  of  futurity, 
misleads  those  whom  it  seems  to  guide,  and  darkens  the  scene 
which  it  pretends  to  ilhiminate  !  Who  would  not  liave  said 
that  I  was  that  enemy  most  dangerous  to  Richard,  whose 
enmity  was  to  be  ended  by  marriage  with  his  kinswoman  ? 
Yet  it  now  appears  that  a  union  betwixt  this  gallant  earl  and 
the  lady  will  bring  about  friendshi^a  betwixt  Richard  and 
Scotland,  an  enemy  more  dangerous  than  I,  as  a  wildcat  in 
a  chamber  is  more  to  be  dreaded  than  a  lion  in  a  distant  I 
desert.  But  then,"  he  continued  to  mutter  to  himself,  '*  the 
combination  intimates  that  this  husband  was  to  be  Christian. 
Christian  I  "  he  repeated,  after  a  pause.  '*That  gave  the  h\ 
insane,  fanatic  star-gazer  hopes  that  I  might  renounce  my  le 
faith  !  but  me,  the  faithful  follower  of  our  Prophet — me  it 
should  have  undeceived.  Lie  there,  mysterious  scroll,"  he 
added,  thrusting  it  under  the  pile  of  cushions  ;  "  strangeare 
thy  bodements  and  fatal,  since,  even  when  true  in  themselves, 
they  work  upon  those  who  attempt  to  decipher  their  meaning 
all  the  effects  of  falsehood.  How  now  !  what  means  this 
intrusion  ?" 

He  spoke  to  the  dwarf  Xectabanus,  who  rushed  into  the 


THE  TALISMAN  809 

tent  fearfully  agitated,  with  each  strange  and  dispropor- 
tioned  feature  wrenched  by  horror  into  still  more  extrava- 
gant ugliness — his  mouth  open,  his  eyes  staring,  his  hands, 
with  their  shriveled  and  deformed  fingers,  wildly  expanded. 

"  What  now  ?  "  said  the  Soldan,  sternly. 

*'  Accipe  hoc  !  "  groaned  out  the  dwarf.    - 

**  Ha  !  sayst  thou  ?"  answered  Saladin. 

"Accipe  Aoc /"  replied  the  panic-struck  creature,  un- 
conscious, perhaps,  that  he  repeated  the  same  words  as  be- 
fore. 

"  Hence,  I  am  in  no  vein  for  foolery,"  said  the  Emperor. 

*'  Nor  am  I  further  fool,"  said  the  dwarf,  "  than  to  make 
my  folly  help  out  my  wits  to  earn  my  bread,  poor  helpless 
wretch  !     Hear — hear  me,  great  Soldan." 

"  -Nay,  if  thou  hast  actual  wrong  to  complain  of,"  said 
Saladin,  "fool  or  wise,  thou  art  entitled  to  the  ear  of  a 
king.  Retire  hither  with  me;"  and  he  led  him  into  the 
inner  tent. 

Whatever  their  conference  related  to,  it  was  soon  broken 
off  by  the  fanfare  of  the  trumpets,  announcing  the  arrival 
lof  the  various  Christian  princes,  whom  Saladin  welcomed  to 
his  tent  with  a  royal  courtesy  well  becoming  their  rank  and 
his  own,  but  chiefly  he  saluted  the  young  Earl  of  Hunting- 
don, and  generously  congratulated  him  upon  prospects 
which  seemed  to  have  interfered  with  and  overclouded  those 
which  he  had  himself  entertained. 

'*  But  think  not,"  said  the  Soldan,  "thou  nobl  e  youth, 
that  the  Prince  of  Scotland  is  more  welcome  to  Saladiu  than 
was  Kenneth  to  the  solitary  Ilderim  when  they  met  in  the 
desert,  or  the  distressed  Ethiop  to  the  Hakim  Adonbec.  A 
ibrave  and  generous  disposition  like  thine  hath  a  value  in- 
jdependent  of  condition  and  birth,  as  the  cool  draught  which 
I  here  proffer  thee  is  as  delicious  from  an  earthen  vessel  as 
from  a  goblet  of  gold." 

The  Earl  of  Huntingdon  made  a  suitable  reply,  gratefully 
iacknowledging  the  various  important  services  he  had  re- 
ceived from  the  generous  Soldan  ;  but  when  he  had  pledged 
Saladin  in  the  bowl  of  sherbet  which  the  Soldan  had  prof- 
fered to  him,  he  could  not  help  remarking  with  a  smile. 
;"The  brave  cavalier,  Ilderim,  knew  not  of  the  formation  of 
lice,  but  the  munificent  Soldan  cools  his  sherbet  with  snow." 

"  Wouldst  thou  have  an  Arab  or  a  Kurdman  as  wise  as  a 
Hakim  ?"  said  the  Soldan.  "He  who  does  on  a  disguise 
must  make  the  sentiments  of  his  heart  and  the  learning  of 
his  head  accord  with  the  dress  which  he  assumes.     I  desired 


310  IV A  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL  S 

to  see  how  a  brave  and  single-hearted  cavalier  of  Frangistan 
would  conduct  himself  in  debate  with  such  a  chief  as  I  then 
seemed  ;  and  I  questioned  the  truth  of  a  well-known  fact, 
to  know  by  what  arguments  thou  wouldst  support  thj 
assertion/' 

While  they  were  speaking,  the  Archduke  of  Austria,  who 
stood  a  little  apart,  was  struck  with  the  mention  of  iced 
sherbet,  and  took  with  pleasure  and  some  bluntnessthe  deep 
goblet,  as  the  Earl  of   Huntington  was  about  to  replace  it. 

"  Most  delicious  ! "  he  exclaimed,  after  a  deep  draught, 
which  the  heat  of  the  weather,  and  the  feverishness  follow- 
ing the  debauch  of  the  preceding  day,  had  rendered  doubly 
acceptable.  He  sighed  as  he  handed  the  cup  to  the  Grand 
Master  of  the  Templars.  Saladin  made  a  sign  to  the  dwarf, 
who  advanced  and  pronounced,  with  a  harsh  voice,  the 
words,  "  Accipe  Jwc  !  "  The  Templar  started,  like  a  steed 
who  sees  a  lion  under  a  bush  beside  the  pathway  ;  yet  in- 
stantly recovered,  and  to  hide,  perliaps,  his  confusion,  raised 
the  goblet  to  his  lips  ;  but  those  lips  never  touched  that 
goblet's  rim.  The  saber  of  Saladin  left  its  sheath  as  light- 
ning leaves  the  cloud.  It  was  waved  in  the  air,  and  the  head 
of  the  Grand  Master  rolled  to  the  extremity  of  the  tent, 
while  the  trunk  remained  for  a  second  standing,  with  the 
goblet  still  clenched  in  its  grasp,  then  fell,  the  liquor  min- 
gling with  the  blood  that  spurted  from  the  veins.* 

There  was  a  general  exclamation  of  "  Treason,"  and 
Austria,  nearest  to  whom  Saladin  stood  with  the  bloody 
saber  in  his  hand,  started  back  as  if  apprehensive  that  his 
turn  was  to  come  next.  Eichard  and  others  laid  hand  on 
their  swords. 

''  Fear  nothing,  noble  Austria,"  said  Saladin,  as  compos- 
edly as  if  nothing  had  happened,  "  nor  you,  royal  England, 
be  wroth  at  what  you  have  seen.  Not  for  his  manifold 
treasons  ;  not  for  the  attempt  which,  as  may  be  vouched  by 
his  own  squire,  he  instigated  against  King  Eichard's  life; 
not  that  he  pursued  the  Prince  of  Scotland  and  myself  in 
the  desert,  reducing  us  to  save  our  lives  by  the  speed  of  our 
horses  ;  not  that  he  had  stirred  up  the  Maronites  to  attack 
us  upon  this  very  occasion,  had  I  not  brought  up  unexpect- 
edly so  many  Arabs  as  rendered  the  scheme  abortive — not 
for  any  or  all  of  these  crimes  does  he  now  lie  there,  although 
each  were  deserving  such  a  doom  ;  but  because,  scarce  half 
an  hour  ere  he  polluted  our  presence,  as  the  simoom  em- 
poisons the  atmosphere,  he  poniarded  his  comrade  and  ac-i  (lei 
g  See  Death  of  Grand  Master.    Note  11. 


THE  TALISMAJSr  311 

complice,  Conrade  of  Montserrat,  lest  lie  should  confess  the 
hifamous  plots  in  which  they  had  both  been  engaged." 

'*  How  !  Conrade  murdered  !  And  by  the  Grand  Mnster, 
his  sponsor  and  most  intimate  friend  !  "  exclaimed  Eichard. 
"  Noble  Soldan,  I  would  not  doubt  thee  ;  yet  this  must  be 
proved,  otherwise " 

"  There  stands  the  evidence/*  said  Saladin,  pointing  to 
the  terrified  dwarf.  "Allah,  who  sends  tlie  firefly  to  illumi- 
nate the  night-season,  can  discover  secret  crimes  by  the  most 
contemptible  means." 

The  Soldan  proceeded  to  tell  the  dwarf's  story,  which 
amounted  to  this  : — In  his  foolish  curiosity,  or,  as  he  partly 
confessed,  with  some  thoughts  of  pilfering,  Nectabanus  had 
strayed  into  the  tent  of  Conrade,  which  had  been  deserted 
by  his  attendants,  some  of  whom  had  left  the  encampment 
to  carry  the  news  of  his  defeat  to  his  brother,  and  others 
were  availing  themselves  of  the  means  which  Saladin  had 
supplied  for  reveling.  The  wounded  man  slept  under  the 
influence  of  Saladin's  wonderful  talisman,  so  that  the  dwarf 
had  opportunity  to  pry  about  at  pleasure,  until  he  was 
frightened  into  concealment  by  the  sound  of  a  heavy  step. 
He  skulked  behind  a  curtain,  yet  could  see  the  motions,  and 
hear  the  words,  of  the  Grand  Master,  who  entered,  and 
carefully  secured  the  covering  of  the  pavilion  behind  him. 
His  victim  started  from  sleep,  and  it  would  appear  that  he 
instantly  suspected  the  purpose  of  his  old  associate,  for  it 
was  in  a  tone  of  alarm  that  he  demanded  wherefore  he  dis- 
turbed him. 

"  I  come  to  confess  and  to  absolve  thee,"  answered  the 
Grand  Master. 

Of  their  further  speech  the  terrified  dwarf  remembered 
little,  save  that  Conrade  implored  the  Grand  Master  not  to 
break  a  wounded  reed,  and  that  the  Templar  struck  him  to 
the  heart  with  a  Turkish  dagger,  with  the  words  "  Accipe 
lioc" — words  which  long  afterwards  haunted  the  terrified 
imagination  of  the  concealed  witness. 

"  1  verified  the  tale,"  said  Saladin,  "by  causing  the  body 
to  be  examined  ;  and  I  made  this  unhappy  being,  whom 
Allah  hath  made  the  discoverer  of  the  crime,  repeat  in  your 
own  presence  the  words  which  the  murderer  spoke  ;  and  you 
yourselves  saw  the  effect  which  they  produced  upon  his 
conscience." 

The  Soldan  paused ;  and  the  King  of  England  broke 
Bilence : 

"  If  this  be  true,  as  I  doubt  not,  we  have  witnessed  a  great 


312  iVA  VERLEY  N 0 VEL S 


act  of  justice,  tliough  it  bore  a  different  aspect.     But  where- 
fore in  this  presence  ?  wherefore  with  thine  own  hand  ?" 

"I' had  designed  otherwise,"  said  Saladin  ;  "  but,  had  I 
not  hastened  his  doom,  it  had  been  altogether  averted, 
since,  if  I  had  permitted  him  to  taste  of  my  cup,  as  he  was 
about  to  do,  how  could  I,  without  incurring  the  brand  of  in- 
hospitality,  have  done  him  to  death  as  he  deserved  ?  Had 
he  murdered  my  father,  and  afterwards  partaken  of  my  food 
and  my  bowl,  not  a  hair  of  his  head  could  have  been  injured 
by  me.  But  enough  of  him — let  his  carcass  and  his  memory 
be  removed  from  amongst  us.'^ 

The  body  was  carried  away,  and  the  marks  of  the  slaughter 
obliterated  or  concealed  with  such  ready  dexterity  as  showed 
that  the  case  was  not  altogether  so  uncommon  as  to  paralyze 
the  assistants  and  officers  of  Saladin's  household. 

But  the  Christian  princes  felt  that  the  scene  which  they 
had  beheld  weighed  heavily  on  their  spirits,  and  although, 
at  the  courteous  invitation  of  the  Soldan,  they  assumed 
their  seats  at  the  banquet,  yet  it  was  with  the  silence  of 
doubt  and  amazement.  The  spirits  of  Richard  alone  sur- 
mounted all  cause  for  suspicion  or  embarrassment.  Yet  he, 
too,  seemed  to  ruminate  on  some  proposition,  as  if  he  were 
desirous  of  making  it  in  the  most  insinuating  and  accept- 
able manner  which  was  possible.  At  length  he  drank  oif  a 
large  bowl  of  wine,  and,  addressing  the  Soldan,  desired  to 
know  whether  it  was  not  true  that  he  had  honored  the  Earl  s' 
of  Pluntingdon  with  a  personal  encounter. 

Saladin  answered   with  a  smile,  that  he  had  proved  his     fi' 
horse  and  his  weapons  with  the  heir  of  Scotland,  as  cavaliers     "i 
are  wont  to  do  with  each  other  when  they  meet  in  the  desert ;     ' 
and  modestly  added  that,  though   the  combat  was  not  en- 
tirely  decisive,  he  had  not,   on  his  part,   much  reason   to 
pride  himself  on  the  event.     The  Scot,  on  the  other  hand, 
disclaimed  the  attributed  superiority,  and  wished  to  assign 
it  to  the  Soldan.  jie' 

"  Enough  of  honor  thou  hast  had  in  the  encounter,^'  said  ""i 
Richard,  "and  I  envy  thee  more  for  that  than  for  the  smiles 
of  Edith  Plantagenet,  though  one  of  them  might  reward  a  ' 
bloody  day's  work.  But  what  say  you,  noble  princes  ;  is  it 
fitting  that  such  a  royal  ring  of  chivalry  should  break  up 
without  something  being  done  for  future  times  to  speak  of  ? 
What  is  the  overthrow  and  death  of  a  traitor  to  such  a  fair 
garland  of  honor  as.  is  here  assembled,  and  which  ouglit  not. 
to  part  without  witnessing  something  more  worthy  of  their 
regard  h    How  say  you,  princely  Soldan  ?     What  if  we  two 


THE  TALISMAN  313 

ehonld  now,  and  before  this  fair  company,  decide  the  long- 
contended  question  for  this  land  of  Palestine,  and  end  at 
once  these  tedious  wars  ?  Yonder  are  the  lists  ready,  nor 
can  Paynimrie  ever  hope  a  better  champion  than  thou,  I, 
unless  worthier  offers,  will  lay  down  my  gauntlet  in  behalf 
of  Christendom,  and,  in  all  love  and  honor,  we  will  do 
mortal  battle  for  the  possession  of  Jerusalem." 

There  was  a  deep  pause  for  the  Soldan's  answer.  His 
cheek  and  brow  colored  highly,  and  it  was  the  opinion  of 
many  present  that  he  hesitated  whether  he  should  accept 
the  challenge.  At  length  he  said,  "  Fighting  for  the  Holy 
City  against  those  whom  we  regard  as  idolaters,  and  wor- 
shipers of  stocks  and  stones  and  graven  images,  I  might  con- 
fide that  Allah  would  strengthen  my  arm  ;  or  if  I  fell  be- 
neath the  sword  of  the  Melech  Ric,  I  could  not  pass  to  Par- 
adise by  a  more  glorious  death.  But  Allah  has  already  gi^  en 
Jerusalem  to  the  true  believers,  and  it  were  a  tempting  the 
God  of  the  Prophet  to  peril,  upon  my  own  personal  strength 
and  skill,  that  which  I  hold  securely  by  the  superiority  of 
my  forces." 

*' If  not  for  Jerusalem,  then,"  said  Richard,  in  the  tone 
of  one  who  would  entreat  a  favor  of  an  intimate  friend, 
*'_yet  for  the  love  of  honor,  let  us  run  at  least  three  courses 
witli  grinded  lances  ?  " 

"  Even  this,"  said  Saladin,  half-smiling  at  Cceur-de-Lion's 
affectionate  earnestness  for  the  combat — "even  this  I  may 
not  lawfully  do.  The  master  places  the  shepherd  over  the 
flock,  not  for  the  shepherd's'  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of 
the  sheep.  Had  I  a  son  to  hold  the  scepter  when  I  fell,  I 
might  have  had  the  liberty,  as  I  have  the  will,  to  brave  this 
bold  encounter  ;  but  your  own  Scripture  sayeth,  that  when 
the  herdsman  is  smitten,  the  sheep  are  scattered." 

"  Thou  hast  had  all  the  fortune,"  said  Richard,  turning 
to  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  would  have 
given  the  best  year  in  my  life  for  that  one  half-hour  beside 
the  Diamond  of  the  Desert !  " 

The  chivalrous  extravagance  of  Richard  awakened  the 
spirits  of  the  assembly,  and  when  at  length  they  arose  to 
depart,  Saladin  advanced  and  took  Coeur-de-Lion  by  the 
hand. 

"  Noble  King  of  England,"  he  said,  "we  now  part,  never 
to  meet  again.  That  your  league  is  dissolved,  no  more  to 
be  reunited,  and  that  your  native  forces  are  far  too  few  to 
enable  you  to  prosecute  your  enterprise,  is  as  well  known  to 
me  as  to  yourself.     I  may  not  yield  you  up  that  Jerusalem 


314  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

which  you  so  much  desire  to  hold.  It  is  to  us,  as  to  you,  a 
Holy  City.  But  whatever  other  terms  Eichard  demands  of 
Saladin  shall  be  as  willingly  yielded  as  yonder  fountain 
yields  its  waters.  Ay,  and  the  same  should  be  as  frankly 
afforded  by  Saladin  if  Richard  stood  in  the  desert  with  but 
two  archers  in  his  train." 


The  next  day  saw  Richard's  return  to  his  own  camp,  and 
in  a  short  space  afterwards  the  young  Earl  of  Huntingdon 
was  espoused  by  Edith  Plantagenet.  The  Soldan  sent,  as  a 
nuptial  present  on  this  occasion,  the  celebrated  Talisman"  : 
but  though  many  cures  were  wrought  by  means  of  it  in 
Europe,  none  equaled  in  success  and  celebrity  those  which 
the  Soldan  achieved.  It  is  still  in  existence,  having  been 
bequeathed  by  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon  to  a  brave  knight  of 
Scotland,  Sir  Simon  of  the  Lee,  in  whose  ancient  and  highly- 
honored  family  it  is  still  preserved  ;  and  although  charmed 
stones  have  been  dismissed  from  the  modern  pharmacopeia, 
its  virtues  are  still  applied  to  for  stopping  blood  and  in  cases 
of  canine  madness. 

Our  story  closes  here,  as  the  terms  on  which  Richard  re- 
linquished his  conquests  are  to  be  found  in  every  history  of 
the  period. 


BND  OF  THE'TALISMAS 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

As  I  stood  by  yon  roofless  tower 

Where  the  wa'ttower  scents  the  dewy  air, 
Where  the  howlet  mourns  in  her  ivy  bower, 

And  tells  the  midnight  moon  her  care  ; 
The  winds  were  laid,  the  air  was  still, 

The  stars  they  sliot  along  the  sky, 
The  fox  was  howling  on  the  hill, 

And  the  distant  echoing  glens  reply. 

Robert  Bukns. 


ALES   OF   MY   LANDLORD 

jfourtb  anO  Xast  Series 

COLLECTED  AND  ARRANGED    BY 

JEDEDIAH  CLEISHBOTHAM 

8CHOOLMASTEB  AND  PARISH-CLERK  OF  GANDEBCLECOH 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

The  following  introduction  to  Castle  Dangerous  was  forwarded 
by  Sir  Walter  Scott  from  Naples  in  February,  1833,  together  with 
some  corrections  of  the  text,  and  notes  on  localities  mentioned  in 
the  Novel. 

The  materials  for  the  Introduction  must  have  been  collected  be- 
fore he  left  Scotland,  in  September,  1831  ;  but  in  the  hurry  of  pre- 
paring for  his  voyage  lie  had  not  been  able  to  arrange  them  so  as  to 
accompany  the  first  edition  of  this  Romance. 

A  few  notes,  supplied  by  the  [original]  Editor  [J.  G.  Lockhart] , 
are  followed  by  his  name  in  brackets. 

The  incidents  on  which  the  ensuing  Novel  maiiily  turns  are 
derived  from  the  ancient  metrical  clironicle  of  TJie  Bruce  by- 
Archdeacon  Barbour,  and  from  Tlie  HiMory  of  the  Houses  of 
Douglas  and  Angus,  by  David  Hume  of  Godscroft ;  and  are 
sustained  by  the  immemorial  tradition  of  the  western  parts 
of  Scotland.  They  are  so  much  in  consonance  with  the  spirit 
and  manners  of  the  troubled  age  to  which  they  are  referred, 
that  I  can  see  no  reason  for  doubting  their  being  founded  in 
fact  :  the  names,  indeed,  of  numberless  localities  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Douglas  Castle  appear  to  attest,  beyond  suspicion, 
many  even  of  the  smallest  circumstances  embraced  in  the 
story  of  Godscroft. 

Among  all  the  associates  of  Robert  the  Bruce,  in  his  great 
enterprise  of  rescuing  Scotland  from  the  power  of  Edward, 
the  first  place  is  universally  conceded  to  James,  the  eighth 
817 


818  WA  VERLET  N 0 VEL S 

Lord  Douglas,  to  this  day  venerated  by  his  countrymen  as 
**  the  Good  Sir  James  '* : 

And  Gud  Schyr  James  off  Douglas, 

Tliat  in  his  time  sa  worthy  was. 

That  off  his  price  and  his  bounte, 

In  fer  landis  renownyt  wes  he.— Barbour  [bk.  i.]. 

The  Good  Sir  James,  the  dreadful  blacke  Douglas, 

That  in  his  dayes  so  wise  and  worthie  was, 

Wha  here,  and  on  the  infidels  of  Spain, 

Such  honor,  praise,  and  triumphs  did  obtain. — Gordon.* 

From  the  time  when  the  King  of  England  refused  to  rein- 
state him,  on  his  return  from  France,  where  he  had  received 
the  education  of  chivalry,  in  the  extensive  possessions  of  his 
family,  which  had  been  held  forfeited  by  the  exertions  of  liia 
father,  William  the  Hardy,  the  young  knight  of  Douglas 
appears  to  have  embraced  the  cause  of  Bruce  with  enthusi- 
astic ardor,  and  to  have  adhered  to  the  fortunes  of  his  sov- 
ereign with  unwearied  fidelity  and  devotion.  "  The  Doug- 
lasse,"  says  Hollinshed  [Hisiorie  of  Scotland,  p.  215,  ed. 
1585],  "was  joyfully  received  of  King  Robert,  in  whose  ser- 
vice he  faithfully  continued,  both  in  peace  and  war,  to  his 
life's  end.  Though  the  surname  and  familie  of  the  Doug- 
lasses was  in  some  estimation  of  nobilitie  before  those  dales, 
yet  the  rising  thereof  to  honour  chanced  through  this  James 
Douglasse ;  for,  by  meanes  of  his  advancement,  others  of  that 
lineage  took  occasion,  by  their  singular  manhood  and  noble 
prowess,  shewed  at  sundrie  times  in  defence  of  the  realme, 
to  grow  to  such  height  in  authoritie  and  estimation,  that 
their  mightie  puissance  in  mainrent,  lands,  and  great  pos- 
sessions at  length  was,  through  suspicion  conceived  by  the 
kings  that  succeeded,  the  cause  in  part  of  their  ruinous 
decay.*' 

In  every  narrative  of  the  Scottish  war  of  independence,  a 
considerable  space  is  devoted  to  those  years  of  perilous  adven- 
ture and  suffering  which  were  spent  by  the  illustrious  friend 
of  Bruce  in  harassing  the  English  detachments  successively 
occupying  his  paternal  territory,  and  in  repeated  and  success- 
ful attempts  to  wrest  the  formidable  fortress  of  Douglas 
Castle  itself  from  their  possession.  In  the  English  as  well 
as  Scotch  Chronicles,  and  in  Rymer's  Fcedera,  occur  frequent 
notices  of  the  different  officers  entrusted  by  Edward  with  the 
keeping  of  this  renowned  stronghold  ;  especially  Sir  Robert 
de  Clifford,  ancestor  of  the  heroic  race  of  the  Cliffords,  Earls 

*  Patrick  Gordon,  who  published  in  1615,  in  heroic  verse,  the  first 
book  of  The  History  of  Pi'ince  Robert,  surnamed  the  Bruce  {Laing). 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CASTLE  DANGEROUS  319 

of  Cumberland  ;  his  lieutenants.  Sir  Richard  dc  Thiirlewalle 
(written  sometimes  Thruswall),  of  Tiiirlwall  Castle,  on  the 
Tipalt  in  Northumberland  ;  and  Sir  John  de  Walton,  the 
romantic  story  of  whose  love-pledge,  to  hold  the  Castle  of 
Douglas  for  a  year  and  a  day,  or  surrender  all  hope  of  obtain- 
ing his  mistress's  favor,  with  the  tragic  consequences  softened 
in  the  Novel,  is  given  at  length  in  Godscroft,  and  has  often 
been  pointed  out  as  one  of  the  affecting  passages  in  the 
chronicles  of  chivalry.* 

The  Author,  before  he  had  made  much  progress  in  this, 
probably  the  last  of  his  Novels,  undertook  a  journey  to 
Douglas  Dale,  for  the  purpose  of  examining  the  remains  of 
the  famous  castle,  the  kirk  of  St.  Bride  of  Douglas,  the  patron 
saint  of  that  great  family,  and  the  various  localities  alluded 
to  by  Godscroft  in  his  account  of  the  early  adventures  of 
Good  Sir  James  :  but  though  he  was  fortunate  enough  to 
find  a  zealous  and  well-informed  cicerone  in  Mr.  Thomas 
Haddow,  and  had  every  assistance  from  the  kindness  of  Mr. 
Alexander  Fiulay,  the  resident  chamberlain  of  his  friend, Lord 
Douglas,  the  state  of  his  health  at  the  time  was  so  feeble,  that 
he  found  himself  incapable  of  pursuing  his  researches,  as  in 
better  days  he  would  have  delighted  to  do,  and  was  ob- 
liged to  be  contented  with  such  a  cursory  view  of  scenes,  in 
themselves  most  interesting,  as  could  be  snatched  in  a  single 
morning,  when  any  bodily  exertion  was  painful.  Mr.  Had- 
dow was  attentive  enough  to  forward  subsequently  some  notes 
on  the  points  which  the  Author  had  seemed  desirous  of 
investigating ;  but  these  did  not  reach  him  until,  being 
obliged  to  prepare  matters  for  a  foreign  excursion  in  quest 
of  health  and  strength,  he  had  been  compelled  to  bring  his 
work,  such  as  it  is,  to  a  conclusion. 

The  remains  of  the  old  Castle  of  Douglas  f  are  inconsider- 
able. They  consist  indeed  of  but  one  ruined  tower,  standing 
at  a  short  distance  from  the  modern  mansion,  which  itself  is 
only  a  fragment  of  the  design  on  which  the  Duke  of  Douglas 
meant  to  reconstruct  the  edifice,  after  its  last  accidental  de- 
struction by  fire.  His  Grace  had  kept  in  view  the  ancient 
prophecy  that,  as  often  as  Douglas  Castle  might  be  destroyed, 
it  should  rise  again  in  enlarged  dimensions  and  improved 
splendor,  and  projected  a  pile  of  building  which,  if  it  had 
been  completed,  would  have  much  exceeded  any  nobleman's 

*  The  reader  will  find  both  this  story  and  that  of  Count  Robert  of 
Paris  in  Sir  W.  Scott's  essay  on  "  Chivalry,"  published  in  1818,  in 
the  Supplement  to  the  Encyclopcedia  Britannica  (Lockhart). 
tSee  Note  1. 


320  WA  VERLET  NO VELS 

residence  then  existing  in  Scotland,  as  indeed  what  had  been 
finished,  amounting  to  about  one-eighth  part  of  the  plan,  is 
sufficiently  extensive  for  the  accommodation  of  a  large  estab- 
lishment, and  contains  some  apartments  the  dimensions  of 
which  are  magnificent.  The  situation  is  commanding  ;  and 
though  the  Duke's  successors  have  allowed  the  mansion  to 
continue  as  he  left  it,  great  expense  has  been  lavished  on  the 
environs,  which  now  present  a  vast  sweep  of  richly  undulated 
woodland,  stretching  to  the  border  of  the  Oairntable  moun- 
tains, repeatedly  mentioned  as  the  favorite  retreat  of  the 
great  ancestor  of  the  family  in  the  days  of  his  hardship  and 
persecution.  There  remains  at  the  head  of  the  adjoining 
bourg  the  choir  of  the  ancient  cliurch  of  St.  Bride,  having 
beneath  it  the  vauH  which  was  used  till  lately  as  the  burial- 
place  of  this  princely  race,  and  only  abandoned  when  their 
stone  and  leaden  coffins  had  accumulated,  in  the  course  of 
five  or  six  hundred  years,  in  such  a  way  that  it  could  accom- 
modate no  more.  Here  a  silver  case,  containing  the  dust  of 
what  was  once  the  brave  heart  of  Good  Sir  James,  is  still 
pointed  out ;  and  in  the  dilapidated  choir  above  appears, 
thougli  in  a  sorely  ruinous  state,  the  once  magnificent  tomb 
of  the  warrior  himself.  After  detailing  the  well-known  cir- 
cumstances of  Sir  James's  death  in  Spain,  20[25]th  August, 
1330,  where  he  fell,  assisting  the  King  of  Arragon  in  an  expe- 
dition against  the  Moors,  when  on  his  way  back  to  Scotland 
from  Jerusalem,  to  which  he  had  conveyed  the  heart  of 
Bruce,  the  old  poet  Barbour  tells  us  [bk.xiv.]  that — 

Quhen  his  men  lang  mad  murnyn, 
Tliai  debowalyt  him,  and  syne 
Gert  scher  him  swa.  that  mycht  be  tane 
The  flesch  all  haly  fra  the  bane. 
And  the  cariouue  thai-  in  haly  place 
Erdyt,  with  rycht  gret  worschip,  was. 

The  banys  haue  thai  with  thaim  tane ; 
And  syne  ar  to  their  schippis  gane  ; 

Syne  towart  Scotland  held  thair  way, 
And  thar  ar  cum  my  n  in  full  gret  hy. 
And  the  banys'honorabilly 
In  till  the  kyrk  off  Douglas  war 
Erdyt,  with"  the  dule  and  mekill  car 
Schyr  Archebald  his  sonp  gert  syu 
Off  alabastre.  bath  fair  and  fyne, 
Ordane  a  tumbe  sa  riciily 
As  it  behowyt  to  swa  worthy. 

The  monument  is  supposed  to  have  been  wantoniy  mutilated 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CASTLE  DANGEROUS  321 

and  defaced  by  a  detachment  of  Cromwell's  troops,  who,  as 
was  their  custom,  converted  the  kirK  of  St.  Bride  of  Douglas 
into  a  stable  for  their  horses.  Enougli,  however,  remains  to 
identify  the  resting-place  of  the  Great  Sir  James.  The  effigy, 
of  dark  stone,  is  cross-legged,  marking  his  character  as  one 
who  had  died  after  performing  the  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  and  in  actual  conflict  with  the  infidels  of  Spain  ; 
and  the  introduction  of  the  heart,  adopted  as  an  addition  to 
the  old  arms  of  Douglas,  in  consequence  of  the  knight's  fulfil- 
ment of  Bruce's  dying  injunction,  appears,  when  taken  in 
connection  with  the  posture  of  the  figure,  to  set  the  question 
at  rest.  The  monument  in  its  original  state,  must  have  been 
not  inferior  m  any  respect  to  the  best  of  the  same  period  in 
Westminster  Abbey  ;  and  the  curious  reader  is  referred  for 
farther  particulars  of  it  to  Tlie  Sepulchral  Antiquities  of 
Great  Britai?i,  by  Edward  Blore,  F.S.A.  (London,  1826), 
where  may  also  be  found  interesting  details  of  some  of  the 
other  tombs  and  effigies  in  the  cemetery  of  the  first  house  of 
Douglas. 

As  considerable  liberties  have  been  taken  with  the  his- 
torical incidents  on  which  this  novel  is  founded,  it  is  due  to 
tlie  reader  to  place  before  him  such  extracts  from  Godscroft 
and  Barbour  as  may  enable  him  to  correct  any  mis-impres- 
sion. The  passages  introduced  in  the  Appendix,  from  the 
ancient  poem  of  TJie  Bruce,  will  moreover  gratify  those  who 
have  not  in  their  possession  a  copy  of  the  text  of  Barbour, 
as  given  in  the  valuable  quarto  edition  of  my  learned  friend 
Dr.  Jamieson,  as  furnishing  on  the  whole  a  favorable  speci- 
men of  the  style  and  manner  of  a  venerable  classic  who 
wrote  when  Scotland  was  still  full  of  the  fame  and  glory  of 
her  liberators  from  the  yoke  of  Plantagenet,  and  especially 
of  Sir  James  Douglas,  "  of  whom,"  says  Godscroft  [p.  52, 
ed.  1644],  "  we  will  not  omit  here  (to  shut  up  all)  the  judg- 
ment of  those  times  concerning  him,  in  a  rude  verse  indeed, 
yet  such  as  beareth  witness  of  his  true  magnanimity  and  in- 
vincible mind  in  either  fortune,  good  or  bad  : — 

Good  Sir  James  Douglas,  who  wise,  and  wight,  and  worthy  was, 
Was  never  overgladin  no  winning,  nor  yet  oversad  for  no  tineing: 
Good  fortune  and  evil  chance  he  weighed  both  in  one  balance. 

W.  S. 


CASTLE   DANGEROUS 


CHAPTER  I 

Hosts  have  been  known  at  that  dread  sound  to  yield, 
And,  Douglas  dead,  his  name  hath  won  the  field. 

John  Home. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  an  early  spring  day,  when  nature,  in  a 
cold  province  of  Scotland,  was  reviving  from  her  winter's 
sleep,  and  the  air  at  least,  though  not  the  vegetation,  gave 
promise  of  an  abatement  of  the  rigor  of  the  season,  that 
two  travelers,  whose  appearance  at  that  early  period  suffi- 
ciently announced  their  wandering  character,  which,  in 
general,  secured  a  free  passage  even  through  a  dangerous 
country,  were  seen  coming  from  the  southwestward,  within 
a  few  miles  of  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  and  seemed  to  behold- 
ing their  course  in  the  direction  of  the  river  of  that  name, 
whose  dale  afforded  a  species  of  approach  to  that  memo- 
rable feudal  fortress.  The  stream,  small  in  comparsion  to 
the  extent  of  its  fame,  served  as  a  kind  of  drain  to  the 
country  in  its  neighborhood,  and  at  the  same  time  afforded 
the  means  of  a  rough  road  to  the  castle  and  village.  The 
high  lords  to  whom  the  castle  had  for  ages  belonged  might, 
had  they  chosen,  have  made  this  access  a  great  deal  smoother 
and  more  convenient  ;  but  there  had  been  as  yet  little  or  no 
exercise  for  those  geniuses  who  have  taught  all  the  world 
that  it  is  better  to  take  the  more  circuitous  road  round  the 
base  of  a  hill  than  the  direct  course  of  ascending  it  on  the 
one  side  and  descending  it  directly  on  the  other,  without 
yielding  a  single  step  to  render  the  passage  more  easy  to  the 
traveler  ;  still  less  were  those  mysteries  dreamed  of  which 
MacAdam*  has  of  late  days  expounded.  But,  indeed,  to 
what  purpose  should  the  ancient  Douglasses  have  employed 
his  principles,  even  if  they  had  known  them  in  ever  so  much 
perfection  ?  Wheel-carriages,  except  of  the  most  clumsy 
description,  and  for  the  most  simple  operations  of  agriculture, 
were  totally  unknown.  Even  the  most  delicate  female  had 
•  See  Note  2. 


tM  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

110  resource  save  a  horse,  or,  in  case  of  sore  infirmity,  a  lit- 
ter. The  men  use  their  own  sturdy  limbs,  or  hardy  horses, 
to  transport  themselves  from  place  to  place  ;  and  travelers, 
females  in  particular,  experienced  no  small  inconvenience 
from  the  rugged  nature  of  the  country.  A  swollen  torrent 
sometimes  crossed  their  path,  and  comj)elled  them  to  wait 
until  the  waters  had  abated  their  frenzy.  The  bank  of  a 
small  river  was  occasionally  torn  away  by  the  eifects  of  a 
thunderstorm,  a  recent  inundation,  or  the  like  convulsions 
of  nature  ;  and  the  wayfarer  relied  upon  his  knowledge  of 
the  district,  or  obtained  the  best  local  information  in  his 
power,  how  to  direct  his  path  so  as  to  surmount  such  un- 
toward obstacles. 

The  Douglas  issues  from  an  amphitheatre  of  mountains 
which  bounds  the  valley  to  the  southwest,  from  whose  con- 
tributions, and  the  aid  of  sudden  storms,  it  receives  its 
scanty  supplies.  The  general  aspect  of  the  countiy  is  that 
of  the  pastoral  hills  of  the  south  of  Scotland,  forming,  as  is 
usual,  bleak  and  wild  farms,  many  of  which  had,  at  no  great 
iength  of  time  from  the  date  of  the  story,  been  covered  with 
trees,  as  some  of  them  still  attest  by  bearing  the  name  of 
*'  shaw,"  that  is,  wild  natural  wood.  The  neighborhood  of 
the  Douglas  water  itself  was  flat  land,  capable  of  bearing 
strong  crops  of  oats  and  rye,  supplying  the  inhabitants  with 
what  they  required  of  these  productions.  At  no  great  dis- 
tance from  the  edge  of  the  river,  a  few  special  spots  excepted, 
the  soil  capable  of  agriculture  was  more  and  more  mixed 
with  the  pastoral  and  woodland  country,  till  both  terminated 
in  desolate  and  partly  inaccessible  moorlands. 

Above  all,  it  was  war-time,  and  of  necessity  all  circum- 
stances of  mere  convenience  were  obliged  to  give  way  to  a 
paramount  sense  of  danger  ;  the  inhabitants,  therefore,  in- 
stead of  trying  to  amend  the  paths  which  connected  them 
with  other  districts,  were  thankful  that  the  natural  difficul- 
ties which  surrounded  them  rendered  itunnecessary  to  break 
up  or  to  fortify  the  access  from  more  open  countries.  Their 
wants,  with  a  very  few  exceptions,  were  completely  supplied, 
as  we  have  already  said,  by  the  rude  and  scanty  produce  of 
their  own  mountains  and  "  holms,"  the  last  of  which  served 
for  the  exercise  of  their  limited  agriculture,  while  the  better 
part  of  the  mountains  and  forest  glens  produced  pasture  for 
their  herds  and  flocks.  The  recesses  of  the  unexplored 
depths  of  these  silvan  retreats  being  seldom  disturbed,  es- 
pecially since  the  lords  of  the  district  had  laid  aside,  during 
this  time  of  strife,  their  constant  occupation  of  hunting,  the 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  825 

various  kinds  of  game  had  increased  of  late  very  considerably  ; 
so  that  not  only  in  crossing  the  rougher  parts  of  the  hilly 
and  desolate  country  we  are  describing  different  varieties  of 
deer  were  occasionally  seen,  but  even  the  wild  cattle  peculiar 
to  Scotland  sometimes  showed  themselves,  and  other 
animals,  which  indicated  the  irregular  and  disordered  state 
of  the  period.  The  wildcat  was  frequently  surprised  in  the 
dark  ravines  or  the  swampy  thickets  ;  and.  the  wolf,  already 
a  stranger  to  the  more  populous  districts  of  the  Lothians, 
here  maintained  his  ground  against  the  encroachments  of 
man,  and  was  still  himself  a  terror  to  those  by  whom  he  was 
finally  to  be  extirpated.  In  winter  especially — and  winter 
was  hardly  yet  past — these  savage  animals  were  wont  to  be 
driven  to  extremity  for  lack  of  food,  and  used  to  frequent,  in 
dangerous  numbers,  the  battlefield,  the  deserted  churchyard 
— nay,  sometimes  the  abodes  of  living  men,  there  to  watch 
for  children,  their  defenseless  prey,  with  as  much  familiarity 
as  the  fox  nowadays  will  venture  to  prowl  near  the  mistress's  * 
poultry-yard. 

From  what  we  have  said,  our  readers,  if  they  have  made 
— as  who  in  these  days  has  not  ? — the  Scottish  tour,  will  be 
able  to  form  a  tolerably  just  idea  of  the  wilder  and  upper 
part  of  Douglas  Dale,  during  the  earlier  period  of  the  14th 
century.  The  setting  sun  cast  his  gleams  along  a  moorland 
country,  which  to  the  westward  broke  into  larger  swells,  ter- 
minating in  the  mountains  called  the  Larger  and  Lesser 
Cairntable.  The  first  of  these  is,  as  it  were,  the  father  of 
the  hills  in  the  neighborhood,  the  source  of  an  hundred 
streams,  and  by  far  the  largest  of  the  ridge,  still  hokling  in 
his  dark  bosom,  and  in  the  ravines  with  which  his  sides 
are  plowed,  considerable  remnants  of  those  ancient  forests 
with  which  all  the  high  grounds  of  that  quarter  were  once 
covered,  and  particularly'the  hills,  in  which  the  rivers — both 
those  which  run  to  the  east  and  those  which  seek  the  west 
to  discharge  themselves  into  the  Solway — hide,  like  so  many 
hermits,  their  original  and  scanty  sources. 

The  landscape  was  still  illuminated  by  the  reflection  of 
the  evening  sun,  sometimes  thrown  back  from  pool  or  stream  ; 
sometimes  resting  on  gray  rocks,  huge  cumberers  of  the  soil, 
which  labor  and  agriculture  have  since  removed  ;  and  some- 
times contenting  itself  with  gilding  the  banks  of  the  stream, 
tinged  alternately  gray,  green,  or  ruddy,  as  the  ground  it- 
self consisted  of  rock,  or  grassy  turf,  or  bare  earthen  mound, 

*  The  good  dame  or  -^vife  of  a  respectable  farmer  is  almost  uni« 
versally  thus  designat^td  in  Scotland. 


826  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL8 

or  looked  at  a  distance  like  a  rampart  of  dark  red  porphyry. 
Occasionally,  too,  the  eye  rested  on  the  steep  brown  extent 
of  moorland,  as  the  sunbeam  glanced  back  from  the  little 
tarn  or  mountain  pool,  whose  luster,  like  that  of  the  eye  ia 
the  human  countenance,  gives  a  life  and  vivacity  to  every 
feature  around. 

The  elder  and  stouter  of  the  two  travelers  whom  we  have 
mentioned  was  a  person  well,  and  even  showily,  dressed,  ac- 
cording to  the  finery  of  the  times,  and  bore  at  his  back,  as 
wandering  minstrels  were  wont,  a  case,  containing  a  small 
harp,  rote,  or  viol,  or  some  such  species  of  musical  instru- 
ment for  accompanying  the  voice.  The  leathern  case  an- 
nounced so  much,  although  it  proclaimed  not  the  exact 
nature  of  the  instrument.  The  color  of  the  traveler's 
doublet  was  blue,  and  that  of  his  hose  violet,  with  slashes 
which  showed  a  lining  of  the  same  color  witli  the  Jerkin.  A 
mantle  ought,  according  to  ordinary  custom,  to  have  covered 
this  dress  ;  but  the  heat  of  the  sun,  though  the  season  was 
so  early,  had  induced  the  wearer  to  fold  up  his  cloak  in 
small  compass,  and  form  it  into  a  bundle,  attached  to  the 
shoulders  like  the  military  great-coat  of  the  infantry  soldiei 
of  the  present  day.  The  neatness  with  which  it  was  made 
up  argued  tne  precision  of  a  practised  traveler,  who  had 
been  long  accustomed  to  every  resource  which  change  of 
weather  required.  A  great  profusion  of  narrow  ribbons  or 
points,  constituting  the  loops  with  which  our  ancestors  con- 
nected their  doublet  and  hose,  formed  a  kind  of  cordon, 
composed  of  knots  of  blue  or  violet,  which  surrounded  the 
traveler's  jjerson,  and  thus  assimilated  in  color  with  the  two 
garments  which  it  was  tlie  office  of  these  strings  to  combine. 
The  bonnet  us^ually  worn  witli  this  showy  dress  was  of  that 
kind  with  which  Henry  the  Eighth  and  his  son,  Edward  the 
Sixth,  are  usually  represented.  It  was  more  fitted,  from 
the  gay  stuff  of  which  it  was  composed,  to  appear  in  a  public 
place  than  to  encounter  a  storm  of  rain.  It  was  party- 
colored,  being  made  of  different  stripes  of  blue  and  violet ; 
and  the  wearer  arrogated  a  certain  degree  of  gentility  to 
himself,  by  wearing  a  plume  of  considerable  dimensions  of 
the  same  favorite  colors.  The  features  over  which  this 
feather  drooped  were  in  no  degree  remarkable  for  peculiarity 
of  expression.  Yet  in  so  desolate  a  country  as  the  west  of 
Scotland  it  would  not  have  been  easy  to  pass  the  man  with- 
out more  minute  attention  than  he  would  have  met  with 
where  there  was  more  in  the  character  of  the  scenery  to 
arrest  the  gaze  of  the  passengers. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  B2!i 

A  quick  eye,  a  sociable  look,  seeming  to  say,  "  Ay,  look  at 
me,  1  am  a  man  worth  noticing,  and  not  unworthy  your  at- 
tention," carried  with  it,  nevertheless,  an  interpretation 
which  might  be  thought  favorable  or  otherwise,  according  to 
the  character  of  the  person  whom  the  traveler  met.  A  knight 
or  soldier  would  merely  have  thought  that  he  had  met  a  merry 
fellow,  who  could  sing  a  wild  song,  or  tell  a  wild  tale,  and 
help  to  empty  a  flagon,  with  all  the  accomplishments  neces- 
sary for  a  boon  companion  at  an  hostelry,  except  perhaps  an 
alacrity  at  defraying  his  share  of  the  reckoning.  A  church- 
man, on  the  other  hand,  might  have  thought  he  of  the  blue 
and  violet  was  of  too  loose  habits,  and  accustomed  too  little  to 
limit  himself  within  the  boundaries  of  beseeming  mirth,  to 
be  fit  society  for  one  of  his  sacred  calling.  Yet  the  man  of 
song  had  a  certain  steadiness  of  countenance,  which  seemed 
fitted  to  hold  place  in  scenes  of  serious  business  as  well  as  of 
gaiety.  A  wayfaring  passenger  of  wealth,  not  at  that  time 
a  numerous  class,  might  have  feared  in  him  a  professional 
robber,  or  one  whom  opportunity  was  very  likely  to  convert 
into  such  ;  a  female  might  have  been  apprehensive  of  uncivil 
treatment ;  and  a  youth,  or  timid  person,  might  have  thought 
of  murder  or  such  direful  doings.  Unless  privately  armed, 
however,  the  minstrel  was  ill-accoutered  for  any  dangeroua 
occupation.  His  only  visible  weapon  was  a  small  crooked 
sword,  like  what  we  now  call  a  hanger  ;  and  the  state  of  the 
times  would  have  justified  any  man,  however  peaceful  hia 
intentions,  in  being  so  far  armed  against  the  perils  of  the 
road. 

If  a  glance  at  this  man  had  in  any  respect  prejudiced  him 
in  the  opinion  of  those  whom  he  met  on  his  journey,  a  look 
at  his  companion  would,  so  far  as  his  character  could  be 
guessed  at — for  he  was  closely  muffled  up — have  passed  for 
an  apology  and  warrant  for  his  associate.  The  younger 
traveler  was  apparently  in  early  youth,  a  soft  and  gentle  boy, 
whose  Sclavonic  gown,  the  appropriate  dress  of  the  pilgrim, 
he  wore  more  closely  drawn  about  him  than  the  coldness  of 
the  weather  seemed  to  authorize  or  recommend.  His  fea- 
tures, imperfectly  seen  under  the  hood  of  his  pilgrim's  dress, 
were  prepossessing  in  a  high  degree  ;  and  though  he  wore  a 
walking-sword,  it  seemed  rather  to  be  in  compliance  with 
general  fashion  than  from  any  violent  purpose  he  did  so. 
There  were  traces  of  sadness  upon  his  brow,  and  of  teais 
upon  his  cheeks  ;  and  his  weariness  was  such  as  even  his 
rougher  companion  seemed  to  sympathize  with,  while  he 
privately  participated  also  in  the  sorrow  which  left  its  marks 


328  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

upon  a  countenance  so  lovely.  They  spoke  together,  and  the 
elder  of  the  two,  while  he  assumed  the  deferential  air  proper 
to  a  man  of  inferior  rank  addressing  a  superior,  showed,  in 
tone  and  gesture,  something  that  amounted  to  interest  and 
affection. 

"Bertram,  my  friend,*'  said  the  younger  of  the  two,  ''how 
far  are  w^e  still  from  Douglas  Castle  ?  We  have  already  come 
farther  than  the  twenty  miles  which  thou  didst  say  was  the 
distance  from  Commock — or  how  didst  thou  call  the  last 
hostelry  which  we  left  by  daybreak  ?" 

"Cumnock,  my  dearest  lady — I  beg  ten  thousand  excuses 
— my  gracious  young  lord/' 

"  Call  me  Augustine,"  replied  his  comrade,  *'  if  you  mean 
to  speak  as  is  fiftest  for  the  time." 

"  Nay,  as  for  that,"  said  Bertram,  "  if  your  ladyship  can 
condescend  to  lay  aside  your  quality,  my  own  good-breeding 
is  not  so  firmly  sewed  to  me  but  that  I  can  doff  it  and  re- 
sume it  again  without  its  losing  a  stitch  ;  and  since  your  lady 
ship,  to  whom  I  am  sworn  in  obedience,  is  pleased  to  com- 
mand that  I  should  treat  you  as  my  own  son,  shame  it  were 
to  me  if  I  were  not  to  show  you  the  affection  of  a  father, 
more  especially  as  I  may  well  swear  my  great  oath  that  I  owe 
you  the  duty  of  such,  though  well  I  wot  it  has,  in  our  case., 
been  the  lot  of  the  parent  to  be  maintained  by  tlie  kindness 
and  liberalitv  of  the  child  ;  for  when  was  it  that  I  hungered 
or  thirsted,  and  the  black  stock  *  of  Berkely  did  not  relieve 
my  wants  ?  " 

••'  I  would  have  it  so,"  answered  the  young  pilgrim — "  I 
would  have  it  so.  What  use  of  the  mountains  of  beef  and 
the  oceans  of  beer  which  they  say  our  domains  produce,  if 
there  is  a  hungry  heart  among  our  vassalage,  or  especially  if 
thou,  Bertram,  who  hast  served  as  the  minstrel  of  our  house 
for  more  than  twenty  years,  shouldst  experience  such  a  feel- 
ing?" 

"  Certes,  lady,"  answered  Bertram,  "  it  would  be  like  the 
catastrophe  which  is  told  of  the  baron  of  Fastenough,  when 
his  last  mouse  was  starved  to  death  in  the  very  pantry  ;  anr" 
if  I  escape  this  journey  without  such  a  calamity,  I  shall  think 
myself  out  of  reach  of  thirst  or  famine  for  the  whole  of  my 
life." 

*'Thou  hast  suffered  already  once  or  twice  by  these  at- 
tacks, my  poor  friend,"  said  the  lady. 

''It  is  little,"  answered  Bertram," "  anything  that  I  have 

*  The  table  dormant,  which  stood  in  a  baron's  hall,  was  of  tea  so 
designated. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  329 

Buffered ;  and  I  were  ungrateful  to  give  the  inconvenience 
of  missing  a  breakfast,  or  making  an  untimely  dinner,  so 
serious  a  name.  But  then  I  hardly  see  how  your  ladyship 
can  endure  this  gear  much  longer.  You  must  yourself  feel 
that  the  plodding  along  these  highlands,  of  which  the  Scots 
give  us  such  good  measure  in  their  miles,  is  no  jesting  mat- 
ter ;  and  as  for  Douglas  Castle,  why,  it  is  still  three  good 
miles  off."' 

"  The  question  then  is,"  quoth  the  lady,  heaving  a  sigh, 
"  what  we  are  to  do  when  we  have  so  far  to  travel,  and 
when  the  castle  gates  must  be  locked  long  before  we  arrive 
there?'' 

"  For  that  I  will  pledge  my  word,"  answered  Bertram. 
"  The  gates  of  Douglas,  under  the  keeping  of  Sir  John  de 
Walton,  do  not  open  so  easily  as  those  of  the  buttery  hatch 
at  our  own  castle  when  it  is  well  oiled  ;  and  if  your  ladyship 
take  my  advice,  you  will  turn  southward  ho,  and  in  two  days 
at  farthest  we  shall  be  in  a  land  where  men's  wants  are  pro- 
vided for,  as  the  inns  proclaim  it,  with  the  least  possible 
delay,  and  the  secret  of  this  little  journey  shall  never  be 
known  to  living  mortal  but  ourselves,  as  sure  as  I  am  sworn 
minstrel  and  man  of  faith." 

"J  thank  thee  for  thy  advice,  mine  honest  Bertram,"  said 
the  lady,  "  but  I  cannot  profit  by  it.  Should  thy  knowledge 
of  these  parts  possess  thee  with  an  acquaintance  with  any 
decent  house,  whether  it  belong  to  rich  or  poor,  I  would 
willingly  take  quarters  there,  if  I  could  obtain  them  from 
this  tune  until  to-morrow  morning.  The  gates  of  Douglas 
Castle  will  then  be  open  to  guests  of  so  peaceful  an  appear- 
ance as  we  carry  with  us,  and — and — it  will  out — we  might 
have  time  to  make  such  applications  to  our  toilet  as  might 
insure  us  a  good  reception,  by  drawing  a  comb  througji  our 
locks,  or  such-like  foppery." 

"Ah,  madam!  "said  Bertram,  *' were  not  Sir  John  de 
Walton  in  question,  methinks  I  should  venture  to  reply,  that 
an  unwashed  brow,  an  unkempt  head  of  hair,  and  a  look  far 
more  saucy  than  your  ladyship  ever  wears,  or  can  wear,  were 
tl)e  proper  disguise  to  trick  out  that  minstrel's  boy  whom 
you  wish  to  represent  in  the  present  pageant." 

''  Do  you  suffer  your  youthful  pupils  to  be  indeed  so 
slovenly  and  so  saucy,  Bertram  ?"  answered  the  lady.  "  1 
for  one  will  not  imitate  them  in  that  particular  ;  and  whether 
Sir  John  be  now  in  the  Castle  of  Douglas  or  not,  I  will  treat 
the  soldiers  who  hold  so  honorable  a  charge  with  a  washed 
brow  and  a  head  of  hair  somewhat  ordered.     As  for  going 


330  IVAVEELEY  NOVELS 

back  without  seeing  a  castle  whicli  has  mingled  even  with 
my  very  dreams — at  a  word,  Bertram,  thou  mayst  go  that 
way,  but  I  will  not." 

"  And  if  I  part  with  your  ladyship  on  such  terms,"  re- 
sponded the  minstrel,  "now  your  frolic  is  so  nearly  accom- 
plished, it  shall  be  the  foul  fiend  himself,  and  nothing  more 
comely  or  less  dangerous,  that  shall  tear  me  from  your  side  ; 
and  for  lodging,  there  is  not  fai  from  hence  the  house  of  one 
Tom  Dickson  of  Hazelside,  one  of  the  most  honest  fellows  of 
■;he  dale,  and  who,  although  a  laboring  man,  ranked  as  high 
as  a  warrior,  wlien  I  was  in  this  country,  as  any  noble  gentLe- 
man  that  rode  in  the  band  of  the  Douglas." 

"  He  is,  then,  a  soldier  ?  "  said  the  lady. 

"  When  his  country  or  his  lord  need  liis  sword,"  replied 
Bertram,  ''and,  to  say  the  truth,  they  are  seldom  at  peace  ; 
but  otherwise,  he  is  no  enemy,  save  to  the  wolf  which  plun- 
ders his  herds." 

"  But  forget  not,  my  trusty  guide,"  replied  the  lady, 
*'  that  the  blood  in  our  veins  is  English,  and,  consequently, 
that  we  are  in  danger  from  all  who  call  themselves  foes  to 
the  ruddy  cross." 

"  Do  not  fear  this  man's  faith,"  answered  Bertram.  "  You 
may  trust  to  him  as  to  the  best  knight  or  gentleman  of  the 
land.  We  may  make  good  our  lodging  by  a  tune  or  a  song  ; 
and  it  may  remember  you  that  I  undertook,  provided  it 
pleased  your  ladyship,  to  temporize  a  little  with  the  Scots, 
who,  poor  souls,  love  minstrelsy,  and  when  they  have  but  a 
silver  penny  will  willingly  bestow  it  to  encourage  the  gay 
science — I  promised  you,  I  say,  that  we  should  be  as  welcome 
to  them  as  if  we  had  been  born  amidst  their  own  wild  hills  ; 
and  for  the  best  that  such  a  house  as  Dickson's  affords,  the 
gleeman's  son,  fair  lady,  shall  not  breathe  a  wish  in  vain. 
And  liow,  will  you  speak  your  mind  to  your  devoted  friend 
and  adopted  father,  or  rather  your  sworn  servant  and  guide, 
Bertram  the  Minstrel,  what  it  is  your  pleasure  to  do  in  this 
matter  ?  " 

''0,  we  will  certainly  accept  of  the  Scot's  hospitality," 
said  the  lady,  "your  minstrel  word  being  plighted  that  he 
is  a  true  man.     Tom  Dickson,  call  you  him  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Bertram,  "such  is  his  name;  and  by 
looking  on  these  sheep,  I  am  assured  that  we  are  now  upon 
his  land." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  the  lady,  with  some  surprise  ;  "  and  how 
is  your  wisdom  aware  of  that  ?  " 

**  I  see  the  firstletter  of  his  name  marked  upon  this  flock." 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  331 

answered  the  guide.  "  Ah,  learning  is  what  carries  a  man 
through  the  world,  as  well  as  if  he  had  tlie  ring  by  virtue  of 
which  old  minstrels  tell  that  Adam  understood  the  language 
of  the  beasts  in  Paradise.  Ah,  madam  !  there  is  more  wit 
taught  in  the  shepherd's  shieling  than  thelady  thinks  of  who 
sews  her  painted  seam  in  her  summer  bower.'' 

"  Be  it  so,  good  Bertram.  And  altliough  not  so  deeply 
skilled  in  the  knowledge  of  written  language  as  you  are,  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  esteem  its  value  more  than  I  actually 
do  ;  so  hold  we  on  the  nearest  road  to  this  Tom  Dickson's, 
whose  very  sheep  tell  of  his  whereabout.  I  trust  we  have 
not  very  far  to  go,  although  the  knowledge  that  our  journev 
is  shortened  by  a  few  miles  has  so  much  recovered  my  fatigua 
that  methinks  I  could  dance  all  the  rest  of  the  way." 


CHAPTER  II 

Rosalind.  Well,  this  is  the  Forest  of  Arden. 

Touchstone.  Aye,  now  am  I  in  Arden  ;  the  more  fool  I.     When  I 
was  at  home  I  was  in  a  better  place  ;  but  travelers  must  be  content, 

Bos.  Aye,  be  so,  good  Touclistone.     Look  you,  who  comes  here  ; 
a  young  man  and  an  old,  in  solemn  talk. 

As  You  Like  It,  Act  II.  Scene  IV. 

As  the  travelers  spoke  together,  they  reached  a  turn  of  the 
path  which  presented  a  more  extensive  prospect  than  the 
broken  face  of  the  country  had  yet  shown  them.  A  valley, 
through  which  flowed  a  small  tributary  stream,  exhibited 
the  wild,  but  not  unpleasant,  features  of  "  a  long  vale  of 
green  bracken,"  here  and  there  besprinkled  with  groups  of 
alder-trees,  of  hazels,  and  of  copse  oak-wood,  which  had 
maintained  their  stations  in  the  recesses  of  the  valley, 
although  they  had  vanished  from  the  loftier  and  more  ex- 
posed sides  of  the  hills.  The  farm-house,  or  mansion-house, 
for,  from  its  size  and  appearance,  it  might  iiave  been  the  one 
or  the  other,  was  a  large  but  low  building,  and  the  walls  of 
the  outhouses  were  sufficiently  strong  to  resist  any  band  of 
casual  depredators.  There  was  nothing,  however,  which 
could  withstand  a  more  powerful  force  ;  for,  in  a  country  laid 
waste  by  war,  the  farmer  was  then,  as  now,  obliged  to  take 
his  chance  of  the  great  evils  attendant  upon  that  state  of 
things  ;  and  his  condition,  never  a  very  eligible  one,  was 
rendered  considerably,  worse  by  the  insecurity  attending  it. 
About  half  a  mile  farther  was  seen  a  Gothic  building  of  very 
small  extent,  having  a  half-dismantled  chapel,  which  the 
minstrel  pronounced  to  be  tlie  abbey  of  St.  Bride.  "The 
place,'"  he  said,  "  I  understand,  is  allowed  to  subsist,  as  two 
or  three  old  monks  and  as  many  nuns,  wliom  it  contains, 
are  permitted  by  the  English  to  serve  God  there,  and  some- 
times to  give  relief  to  Scottish  travelers  ;  and  who  have  ac- 
cordingly taken  assurance  with  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and 
accepted  as  their  superior  a  churchman  on  whom  he  thinks 
he  can  depend.  But  if  these  guests  happen  to  reveal  any 
secrets,  they  are,  by  some  means  or  other,  believed  to  fly 
towards  the  English  governor  ;  and  therefore,  unless  your 
ladyship's  commands  be  positive,  I  think  we  had  best  not 
trust  ourselves  to  their  hospitality.'* 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  338 

**0f  a  surety,  no,"  said  the  lady,  "if  thon  canst  provide 
me  with  lodgings  wliere  we  shall  have  more  prudent  hosts." 

At  this  moment,  two  human  forms  were  seen  to  approach 
the  farm-house  in  a  different  direction  from  the  travelers 
and  speaking  so  high,  in  a  tone  apparently  of  dispute,  that 
the  minstrel  and  his  companion  could  distinguish  their 
voices  though  the  distance  was  considerable.  Having 
screened  his  eyes  with  his  hand  for  some  minutes,  Bertram 
at  length  exclaimed,  "  By  Our  Lady,  it  is  my  old  friend, 
Tom  Dickson,  sure  enough  !  What  can  make  him  in  such 
bad  humor  with  the  lad,  who,  I  think,  may  be  the  little  wild 
boy,  his  son  Charles,  who  used  to  run  about  and  plait  rushes 
some  twenty  years  ago  ?  It  is  lucky,  however,  we  have 
found  our  friends  astir;  for,  I  warrant,  Tom  hath  a  hearty 
piece  of  beef  in  the  pot  ere  he  goes  to  bed,  and  he  must  have 
changed  his  wont  if  an  old  friend  hath  not  his  share  ;  and 
who  knows,  had  we  come  later,  at  what  hour  they  may  now 
find  it  convenient  to  drop  latch  and  draw  bolt  so  near  a 
hostile  garrison  ;  for,  if  we  call  things  by  their  right  names, 
such  is  the  proper  term  for  an  English  garrison  in  the  castle 
of  a  Scottish  nobleman." 

"  Foolish  man,"  answered  the  lady,  "  thou  judgest  of  Sir 
John  de  Walton  as  thou  wouldst  of  some  rude  boor,  to  whom 
the  opportunity  of  doing  what  he  wills  is  a  temptation  and 
license  to  exercise  cruelty  and  oppression.  Now,  I  could 
plight  you  my  word  that,  setting  apart  the  quarrel  of  the 
kingdoms,  which,  of  course,  will  be  fought  out  in  fair  battle 
on  both  sides,  you  will  find  that  English  and  Scottish,  within 
this  domain,  and  within  the  reach  of  Sir  John  de  Walton's 
infiuence,  live  together  as  that  same  fiock  of  sheep  and  goats 
do  with  the  shepherd's  dog — a  foe  from  whom  they  fly  upon 
certain  occasions,  but  around  whom  they  nevertheless  eagerly 
gather  for  protection  should  a  wolf  happen  to  show  himself." 

"^  It  is  not  to  your  ladyship,"  answered  Bertram,  "  that  I 
should  venture  to  state  my  opinion  of  such  matters  ;  but  the 
young  knight,  when  he  is  sheathed  in  armor,  is  a  different 
being  from  him  who  feasts  in  halls  among  press  of  ladies  ; 
and  he  that  feasts  by  another  man's  fireside,  and  when  his 
landlord,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  chances  to  be  the  Black 
Douglas,  has  reason  to  keep  his  eyes  about  him  as  he  makes 
his  meal.  But  it  were  better  I  looked  after  our  own  evening 
refreshment  than  that  I  stood  here  gaping  and  talking  about 
other  folks'  matters."  So  saying,  he  called  out  in  a  thun- 
dering tone  of  voice,  ''  Dickson  ! — what  ho,  Thomas  Dick- 
eon  I  will  you  not  acknowledge  an  old  friend,  who  is  much 


334  WA  VERLE Y  NO  VEL S 

disposed  to  trust  his  supper  and  night's  lodging  to  your 
hospitality  ?  " 

The  Scotchman,  attracted  by  the  call,  looked  first  along 
the  banks  of  the  river,  then  upwards  to  the  bare  side  of  the 
hill,  and  at  length  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  two  figures  who 
were  descending  from  it. 

As  if  he  felt  the  night  colder  while  he  advanced  from  the 
more  sheltered  part  of  the  valley  to  meet  them,  the  Douglas 
Dale  farmer  wrapped  closer  around  him  the  gray  plaid  which, 
from  an  early  period,  has  been  used  by  the  shepherds  of  the 
south  of  Scotland,  and  the  appearance  of  which  gives  a 
romantic  air  to  the  peasantry  and  middle  classes  ;  and  which, 
although  less  brilliant  and  gaudy  in  its  colors,  is  as  pictur- 
esque in  its  arrangement  as  the  more  military  tartan  mantle 
of  the  Highlands.  When  they  approached  near  to  each 
other,  the  lady  might  observe  that  this  friend  of  her  guide 
was  a  stout  athletic  man,  somewhat  past  the  middle  of  life, 
and  already  showing  marks  of  the  approach,  but  none  of  the 
infirmities,  of  age,  uj)on  a  countenance  which  had  been  ex- 
posed to  many  a  storm.  Sharp  eyes,  too,  and  a  quick  obser- 
vation, exhibited  signs  of  vigilance,  acquired  by  one  who  had 
lived  long  in  a  country  where  he  had  constant  occasion  for 
looking  around  him  with  caution.  His  features  were  still 
swollen  with  displeasure  ;  and  the  handsome  young  man  who 
attended  him  seemed  to  be  discontented,  like  one  who  had 
undergone  no  gentle  marks  of  his  father's  indignation,  and 
who,  from  the  sullen  expression  which  mingled  with  an  ap- 
pearance of  shame  on  his  countenance,  seemed  at  once  affected 
by  anger  and  remorse. 

"  Do  you  not  remember  me,  old  friend  ?  "  said  Bertram, 
as  they  approached  within  a  distance  for  communing  ;  "or 
have  the  twenty  years  which  have  marched  over  us  since  we 
met  carried  along  with  them  all  remembrance  of  Bertram, 
the  English  minstrel  ?  " 

"In  troth,"  answered  the  Scot,  "it  is  not  for  want  of 
plenty  of  your  countrymen  to  keep  you  in  my  remembrance, 
and  I  have  hardly  heard  one  of  them  so  much  as  whistle 
Hey,  now  the  day  dawns, 

but  it  has  recalled  some  note  of  your  blithe  rebeck  ;  and  yet 
such  animals  are  we,  that  I  had  forgot  the  mien  of  my  old 
friend,  and  scarcely  knew  him  at  a  distance.  But  we  have 
had  trouble  lately  :  there  are  a  thousand  of  your  countrymen 
that  keep  garrison  in  the  Perilous  Castle  of  Douglas  yonder, 
as  well  as  in  other  places  througli  the  vale,  and  that  is  but  a 
woful  sight  for  a  true  Scotchman  ;  even  my  own  poor  house 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  335 

has  not  escaped  the  dignity  of  a  garrison  of  a  man-at-arms, 
besides  two  or  three  archer  knaves,  and  one  or  two  slips  of 
mischievous  boys  called  pages,  and  so  forth,  who  will  not  let 
a  man  say,  '  this  is  my  own/  by  his  own  fireside.  Do  not, 
therefore,  think  hardly  of  me,  old  comrade,  if  I  show  you  a 
welcome  something  colder  than  you  might  expect  from  a 
friend  of  other  days  ;  for,  by  St.  Bride  of  Douglas,  I  have 
scarcely  anything  left  to  which  I  can  say  welcome." 

"  Small  welcome  will  serve,"  said  Bertram.  "  My  son, 
make  thy  reverence  to  thy  father's  old  friend.  Augustine 
is  learning  my  joyous  trade,  but  he  will  need  some  practise 
ere  he  can  endure  its  fatigues.  If  you  could  give  him  some 
little  matter  of  food,  and  a  quiet  bed  for  the  night,  there's  no 
fear  but  that  we  shall  both  do  well  enough  ;  for  I  daresay  when 
you  travel  with  my  friend  Charles  there — if  that  tall  youth 
chance  to  be  my  old  acquaintance  Charles — you  will  find  your- 
self accommodated  when  his  wants  are  once  well  provided  for." 

"  Nay,  the  foul  fiend  take  me  if  I  do,"  answered  the  Scot- 
tish husbandman.  "  I  know  not  what  the  lads  of  this  day 
are  made  of — not  of  the  same  clay  as  their  fathers  to  be  sure 
— not  sprung  from  the  heather,  which  fears  neither  wind  nor 
rain,  but  from  some  delicate  plant  of  a  foreign  country,  which 
will  not  thrive  unless  it  be  nourished  under  glass,  with  a 
murrain  to  it  I  The  good  Lord  of  Douglas — I  have  been  his 
henchman,  and  can  vouch  for  it — did  not  in  his  pagehood 
desire  such  food  and  lodging  as,  in  the  present  day,  will 
hardly  satisfy  such  a  lad  as  your  friend  Charles." 

"  Nay,"  said  Bertram,  "  it  is  not  that  my  Augustine  is 
over  nice  ;  but,  for  other  reasons,  I  must  request  of  you  a 
bed  to  himself  :  he  hath  of  late  been  unwell." 

"Ay,  I  understand,"  said  Dickson,  ''your  son  hath  had  a 
touch  of  that  illness  which  terminates  so  frequently  in  the 
black  death  you  English  folk  die  of  ?  ^e  hear  much  of  the 
havoc  it  has  made  to  the  southward.     Comes  it  hitherward  ?  " 

Bertram  nodded. 

"  Well,  my  father's  house,"  continued  the  farmer,  "  hath 
more  rooms  than  one,  and  your  son  shall  have  one  well  aired 
and  comfortable  ;  and  for  supper,  ye  shall  have  a  part  of 
what  is  prepared  for  your  countrymen,  though  I  would  rather 
have  their  room  than  their  company.  Since  I  am  bound  to 
feed  a  score  of  them,  they  will  not  dispute  the  claim  of  such 
a  skilful  minstrel  as  thou  art  to  a  night's  hospitality,  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  that  I  must  do  their  bidding  even  in  my  own 
house.  Well-a-day,  if  my  good  lord  were  in  possession  of 
his  own,  I  have  heart  and  hand  enough  to  turn  the  whole  of 
them  out  of  my  house,  like — like " 


836  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

"To  speak  plainly,"  said  Bertram,  'Mike  a  Southron 
strolling  gang  from  Redesdale,  whom  I  have  seen  voii  fling 
out  of  your  house  like  a  litter  of  blind  puppies  when  not  one 
of  them  looked  behind  to  see  who  had  done  him  the  courtesy 
until  he  was  half-way  to  Cairntable." 

_  "Ay,"  answered  the  Scotchman,  drawing  himself  up  at  least 
six  inches  taller  than  before  ;  "  then  I  had  a  house  of  my  own, 
and  a  cause  and  an  arm  to  keep  it.  Now  I  am — what  signifies 
it  what  I  am  ?— the  noblest  lord  in  Scotland  is  little  better.' 

"  Truly,  friend,"  said  Bertram,  "  now  you  view  this  mat- 
ter in  a  rational  light.  I  do  not  say  that  the  wisest,  the 
richest,  or  the  strongest  man  in  this  world  has  any  right  to 
tyrannize  over  his  neighbor,  because  he  is  the  more  weak, 
ignorant,  and  the  poorer  ;  but,  yet,  if  he  does  enter  into  such 
a  controversy,  he  must  submit  to  the  course  of  nature,  and 
that  will  always  give  the  advantage  in  the  tide  of  battle  to 
wealth,  strength,  and  health." 

"'With  permission,  however,"  answered  Dickson,  "the 
weaker  party,  if  he  uses  his  faculties  to  the  utmost,  may,  in 
the  long-run,  obtain  revenge  upon  the  author  of  his  suffer- 
ings, which  would  be  at  least  compensation  for  his  temporary 
submission  ;  and  he  acts  simply  as  a  man,  and  most  foolishly 
as  a  Scotchman,  whether  he  sustains  these  wrongs  M'ith  the 
insensibility  of  an  idiot  or  whether  he  endeavor  to  revenge 
them  before  Heaven's  appointed  time  has  arrived.  But  if  1 
talk  thus  I  shall  scare  you,  as  I  have  scared  some  of  your 
countrymen,  from  accepting  a  meal  of  meat  and  a  night's 
lodging  in  a  house  where  you  might  be  called  with  the  morn- 
ing to  a  bloody  settlement  of  a  national  quarrel." 

"  ISTever  mind,"  said  Bertram,  "  we  have  been  known  to 
each  other  of  old  ;  and  I  am  no  more  afraid  of  meeting  un- 
kindness  in  your  house  than  you  expect  me  to  come  here  for 
the  purpose  of  addii^g  to  the  injuries  of  which  you  com- 
plain. " 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Dickson  ;  "  and  you,  my  old  friend,  are  as 
welcome  to  my  abode  as  when  it  never  held  any  guest  save  of 
my  own  inviting.  And  you,  my  young  friend,  Master  Augus- 
tine, shall  be  looked  after  as  we'll  as  if  you  came  with  a  gay 
brow  and  alight  cheek,  such  as  best  becomes  the  gay  science." 

"  But  wherefore,  may  I  ask,"  said  Bertram,  "  so  much 
displeased  but  now  at  my  young  friend  Charles  ?  " 

The  youth  answered  before  his  father  had  time  to  speak. 
"  My  father,  good  sir,  may  put  what  show  upon  it  he  will, 
but  shrewd  and  wise  men  wax  weak  in  the  brain  in  these 
troubloas  times.     He  saw  two  or  three  wolves  seize  upon 


VASTLE  DANGEROUS  337 

three  of  our  choicest  wethers  ;  and  beeiiuse  I  shouted  to  give 
the  ahirm  to  the  English  garrison,  he  was  angry  as  if  he 
could  have  murdered  me — just  for  saving  the  sheep  from  the 
jaws  that  would  have  devoured  them/' 

"  This  is  a  strange  account  of  thee,  old  friend,"  said  Ber- 
tram. "  Dost  thou  connive  with  the  wolves  in  robbing  thine 
own  fold?" 

"  Why,  let  it  pass  if  thou  lovest  me,"  answered  the  coun- 
tryman: "Charles  could  tell  thee  something  nearer  the 
truth  if  he  had  a  mind  ;  but  for  the  present  let  it  pass." 

The  minstrel,  perceiving  that  the  Scotchman  was  fretted 
and  embarrassed  with  the  subject,  pressed  it  no  farther. 

At  this  moment,  in  crossing  the  threshold  of  Thomas 
Dickson's  house,  they  were  greeted  with  sounds  from  two 
English  soldiers  within.  "  Quiet,  Anthony,"  said  one  voice 
— "  quiet,  man  !  for  the  sake  of  common  sense,  if  not  com- 
mon manners  ;  Robin  Hood  himself  never  sat  down  to  his 
board  ere  the  roast  was  ready." 

"  Ready  !"  quoth  another  rough  voice  ;  "it  is  roasting  to 
rags,  and  small  had  been  the  knave  Dickson's  share,  even  of 
these  rags,  had  it  not  been  the  express  orders  of  the  worship- 
ful Sir  John  de  Walton  that  the  soldiers  who  lie  at  outposts 
should  afford  to  the  inmates  such  provisions  as  are  not  nec- 
essary for  their  own  subsistence." 

"  Hush,  Anthony — hush,  for  shame  !"  replied  his  fellow- 
soldier,  *'  if  ever  I  heard  our  host's  step,  I  heard  it  this  in- 
stant ;  so  give  over  thy  grumbling,  since  our  captain,  as  we 
all  know,  hath  prohibited,  under  strict  penalties,  all  quar- 
rels between  his  followers  and  the  people  of  the  country." 

"I  am  sure,"  replied  Anthony,  "  that  I  have  ministered 
occasion  to  none  ;  but  I  would  I  were  equally  certain  of  the 
L^ood  meaning  of  this  sullen-browed  Thomas  Dickson  to- 
wards the  English  soldiers,  for  I  seldom  go  to  bed  in  this 
dungeon  of  a  house  but  I  expect  my  throat  will  gape  as 
wide  as  a  thirsty  oyster  before  I  awaken.  Here  he  comes, 
however,"  added  Anthony,  sinking  his  sharp  tones  as  he 
spoke  ;  '•'  and  I  hope  to  be  excommunicated  if  he  has  not 
brought  with  him  that  mad  animal,  his  son  Charles,  and 
two  other  strangers,  hungry  enough,  I'll  be  sworn,  to  eat 
up  the  whole  supper,  if  they  do  us  no  other  injury." 

"  Shame  of  thyself,  Anthony," repeated  his  comrade  ;  "a 
good  archer  thou  as  ever  wore  Kendal  green,  and  yet  affect 
to  be  frightened  for  two  tired  travelers,  and  alarmed  for  the 
inroad  their  hunger  may  make  on  the  night's  meal.  There 
are  four  or  five  of  us  here  ;  we  have  our  bows  and  our  bills 
38 


338  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

within  reach,  and  scorn  to  be  chased  from  our  supper,  or 
cheated  out  of  our  share  of  it,  by  a  dozen  Scotchmen, 
whether  stationary  or  strollers.  How  say'st  thou  ? "  he 
added,  turning  to  Dickson — "  how  say  ye,  quartermaster  ?  it 
is  no  secret  that,  by  the  directions  given  to  our  post,  we 
must  inquire  into  the  occupations  of  such  guests  as  you  may 
receive  besides  ourselves,  your  unwilling  inmates  ;  you  are 
as  ready  for  supper,  I  warrant,  as  supper  is  for  you,  and  I 
will  only  delay  you  and  my  friend  Anthony,  who  becomes 
dreadfully  impatient,  until  you  answer  two  or  three  ques- 
tions which  you  wot  of." 

"  Bend-the-Bow,"  answered  Dickson,  *'  thou  art  a  civil 
fellow  ;  and  although  it  is  something  hard  to  be  constrained 
to  give  an  account  of  one's  friends,  because  they  chance. to 
quarter  in  one's  own  house  for  a  night  or  two,  yet  I  must 
submit  to  the  times,  and  make  no  vain  opposition.  You 
may  mark  down  in  your  breviary  there  that,  upon  the  four- 
teenth day  before  Palm  Sunday,  Thomas  Dickson  brought 
to  his  house  of  Hazelside,  in  which  you  hold  garrison,  by 
orders  from  the  English  governor.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  two 
strangers,  to  whom  the  said  Thomas  Dickson  had  promised 
refreshment  and  a  bed  for  the  evening,  if  it  be  lawful  at  this 
time  and  place." 

"  But  what  are  they— these  strangers  ?  "  said  Anthony, 
Bomewhat  sharply. 

"  A  fine  world  the  while,"  murmured  Thomas  Dickson, 
**  that  an  honest  man  should  be  forced  to  answer  the  ques- 
tions of  every  paltry  companion  !  "  But  he  mitigated  his 
voice  and  proceeded — "  The  eldest  of  my  guests  is  Bertram, 
an  ancient  English  ministrel,  who  is  bound  on  his  own  er- 
rand to  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  and  will  communicate  what 
he  has  to  say  of  news  to  Sir  John  de  Walton  himself.  _  I 
have  known  him  for  twenty  years,  and  never  heard  anything 
of  him  save  that  he  was  good  man  and  trne.  The  younger 
stranger  is  his  son,  a  lad  recovering  from  the  English  disor- 
der, which  has  been  raging  far  and  wide  in  Westmoreland 
and  Cumberland.-' 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Bend-the-Bow,  *'  this  same  Bertram,  was 
he  not  about  a  year  since  in  the  service  of  some  noble  lady 
in  our  own  country  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  so,"  answered  Dickson. 

"  We  shall,  in  that  case,  I  think,  incur  little  danger," 
replied  Bend-the-Bow,  ''by  allowing  this  old  man  and  hia 
son  to  proceed  on  their  journey  to  the  castle." 

**  You  are  my  elder  and  my  better,"  answered  Anthony ; 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  339 

"  but  I  may  remind  you  that  it  is  not  so  clearly  our  duty  to 
give  free  passage  into  a  garrison  of  a  thousand  men  of  all 
ranks  to  a  youth  who  has  been  so  lately  attacked  by  a  con- 
tagious disorder  ;  and  I  question  if  our  commander  would 
not  rather  hear  that  the  Black  Douglas,  with  a  hundred  devils 
as  black  as  himself,  since  such  is  his  color,  had  taken  pos- 
session of  the  outpost  of  Hazelside  with  sword  and  battle- 
ax  than  that  one  person  suffering  under  this  fell  sickness 
had  entered  peaceably,  and  by  the  opened  wicket  of  the 
castle." 

"  There  is  something  in  what  thou  sayest,  Anthony,"  re- 
plied his  comrade;  "and  considering  that  our  governor, 
since  he  has  undertaken  the  troublesome  job  of  keeping  a 
castle  which  is  esteemed  so  much  more  dangerous  than  any 
other  within  Scotland,  has  become  one  of  the  most  cautious 
and  jealous  men  in  the  world,  we  had  better,  I  think,  inform 
him  of  the  circumstance,  and  take  his  commands  how  the 
stripling  is  to  be  dealt  with." 

"  Content  am  I,"  said  the  archer  ;  "  and  first,  methinks, 
I  would  just,  in  order  to  show  that  we  know  what  belongs  to 
such  a  case,  ask  the  stripling  a  few  questions,  as  how  long 
he  has  been  ill,  by  what  physicians  he  has  been  attended, 
when  he  was  cured,  and  how  his  cure  is  certified,  etc." 

"  True,  brother,"  said  Bend-the-Bow.  ''  Thou  hearest, 
minstrel,  we  would  ask  thy  son  some  questions.  What  has 
become  of  him  ?     He  was  in  this  apartment  but  now." 

"So  please  you,"  answered  Bertram,  "he  did  but  pass 
through  the  apartment.  Mr.  Thomas  Dickson,  at  my  en- 
treaty, as  well  as  in  respectful  reverence  to  your  honor's 
health,  carried  him  through  the*  room  without  tarriance, 
judging  his  own  bed-chamber  the  fittest  place  for  a  young 
man  recovering  from  a  severe  illness,  and  after  a  day  of  no 
small  fatigue." 

"Well,"  answered  the  elder  archer,  "though  it  is  un- 
common for  men  who,  like  us,  live  by  bow-string  and  quiver, 
to  meddle  with  interrogations  and  examinations  ;  yet,  as  the 
case  stands,  we  must  make  some  inquiries  of  your  son  ere 
we  permit  him  to  set  forth  to  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  where 
you  say  his  errand  leads  him." 

•'  Rather  my  errand,  noble  sir,"  said  the  minstrel, "than 
that  of  the  young  man  himself." 

"  If  such  be  the  case,"  answered  Bend-the-Bow,  "  we  may 
sufficiently  do  our  duty  by  sending  yourself,  with  the  first 
gray  light' of  dawn,  to  the  castle,  and  letting  your  son  remain 
in  bed,  which  I  warrant  is  the  fittest  place  for  him,  until  we 


340  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

shall  receive  Sir  John  de  Walton's  commands  whether  he  is 
to  be  brought  onAvard  or  not." 

"  And  we  may  as  well,"  said  Anthony,  "since  we  are  to 
have  this  man's  company  at  supper,  make  him  acquainted 
with  the  rules  of  the  out  garrison  stationed  here  for  the 
time,"  So  saying,  he  pulled  a  scroll  from  his  leathern  pouch, 
and  said,  ''  Minstrel,  canst  thou  read  ?  " 

"It  becomes  my  calling,"  said  the  minstrel. 

"  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  mine,  though,"  answered  the 
archer,  "  and  therefore  do  thou  read  these  regulations  aloud  ,• 
for,  since  I  do  not  comprehend  these  characters  by  sight,  I 
lose  no  chance  of  having  them  read  over  to  me  as  often  as  I 
can,  that  I  may  fix  their  sense  in  my  memory.  So  beware 
that  thou  readest  the  words  letter  for  letter  as  they  are  set 
down  ;  for  thou  dost  so  at  thy  peril,  sir  minstrel,  if  thou 
readest  not  like  a  true  man." 

"  On  my  minstrel  word,"  said  Bertram,  and  began  to  read 
excessively  slow,  for  he  wished  to  gaiii  a  little  time  for 
consideration,  which  he  foresaw  would  be  necessary  to  pre- 
vent his  being  separated  from  his  mistress,  which  was  likely 
to  occasion  her  mucli  anxiety  and  distress.  He  therefore 
began  thus  :  "-'Outpost  at  Hazelside,*  the  steading  of 
Goodman  Thomas  Dickson.'  Ay,  Thomas,  and  is  thy 
house  so  called  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  ancient  name  of  the  steading,"  said  the  Scot, 
"being  surrounded  by  a  hazel-shaw,  or  thicket." 

"  Hold  your  chattering  tongue,  minstrel,"  said  Anthony, 
"  and  proceed,  as  you  value  that  or  your  ears,  which  you 
seem  disposed  to  make  less  use  of." 

"  '  His  garrison,' "  proceeded  the  minstrel,  reading, 
"'consists  of  a  lance  with  its  furniture.'  "What,  then,  a 
lance,  in  other  words,  a  belted  knight,  commands  this 
party  ?  " 

"  'Tis  no  concern  of  thine,"  said  the  archer. 

"  But  it  is,"  answered  the  minstrel  :  "  we  have  a  right  to 
be  examined  by  the  highest  person  in  presence." 

"  I  will  show  thee,  thou  rascal,"  said  the  archer,  starting 
up,  "  that  1  am  lance  enough  for  thee  to  reply  to,  and  I  will 
break  thy  head  if  thou  say'st  a  word  more." 

"  Take  care,  brother  Anthony,"  said  his  comrade,  "  we 
are  to  use  travelers  courteously — and,  with  your  leave,  those 
travelers  best  who  come  from  our  native  l"nd." 

"  It  is  even  so  stated  here,"  said  the  minstrel,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  read — "  '  The  watch  at  this  outpost  of  Hazelside 
*See  Notes. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  341 

fihall  stop  and  examine  all  travelers  passing  by  the  said 
station,  suffering  such  to  pass  onwards  to  the  town  of  Doug- 
las, or  to  Douglas  Castle,  always  interrogating  them  with 
civility,  and  detaining  and  turning  them  back  if  there  arise 
matter  of  suspicion  ;  but  conductiiig  themselves  in  all  mat- 
ters civilly  and  courteously  to  the  people  of  tlie  country,  and 
to  those  who  travel  in  it."  You  see,  most  excellent  and 
valiant  archer,"  added  the  commentator  Bertram,  "  that 
courtesy  and  civility  are,  above  all,  recommended  to  your 
worship  in  your  conduct  towards  the  inhabitants,  and  those 
passengers  who,  like  us,  may  chance  to  fall  under  your  rules 
in  such  matters/^ 

"  I  am  not  to  be  told  at  this  time  of  day,"  said  the  archer, 
"  how  to  conduct  myself  in  the  discharge  of  my  duties.  Let 
me  advise  you,  sir  minstrel,  to  be  frank  and  open  in  your 
answers  to  our  inquiries,  and  you  shall  have  no  reason  to 
complain.'" 

"  I  hope,  at  all  events,"  said  the  minstrel,  "  to  have  your 
favor  for  my  son,  who  is  a  delicate  stripling,  and  not  accus- 
tomed to  play  his  part  among  the  crew  which  inhabit  this 
wild  world." 

"  Well,"  continued  the  elder  and  more  civil  of  the  two 
archers,  "  if  thy  son  be  a  novice  in  this  terrestrial  naviga- 
tion, I  warrant  that  thou,  my  friend,  from  thy  look  and 
manner  of  speech,  hast  enough  of  skill  to  use  thy  compass. 
To  comfort  thee,  although  thou  must  thyself  answer  the 
questions  of  our  governor  or  deputy-governor,  in  order  that 
he  may  see  there  is  no  offense  in  thee,  I  think  there  may  be 
permission  granted  for  thy  son's  residing  here  in  the  con- 
vent hard  b}' — where  the  nuns,  by  the  way,  are  as  old  as  the 
monks,  and  have  nearly  as  long  beards,  so  thou  mayst  be 
easv  about  thy  son's  morals — until  thou  hast  done  thy 
business  at  Douglas  Castle,  and  art  ready  to  resume  thy 
journey." 

"  If  such  permission,"  said  the  minstrel,  "  can  be  obtained, 
I  should  be  better  pleased  to  leave  him  at  the  abbey,  and  go 
myself,  in  the  first  place,  to  take  the  directions  of  your  com- 
manding-officer." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  the  archer,  "  that  will  be  the 
safest  and  best  way  ;  and  with  a  piece  or  two  of  money  thou 
mayst  secure  the  protection  of  the  abbot." 

'"'  Thou  say'st  well,"  answered  the  minstrel  ;  ''  I  have 
known  life,  I  hive  known  every  stile,  gap,  pathway,  and 
pass  of  this  wilderness  of  ours  for  some  thirty  years  ;  and  he 
that  cannot  steer  his  course  fairly  through  it  like  au  able 


342  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

seaman,  after  having  served  such  an  apprenticeship  can  trar; 
hardly  ever  be  taught,  were  a  century  to  be  given  him  toilioi 
learn  it  in." 

*'  Since  thou  art  so  expert  a  mariner/'  answered  the  archer  'is 
Anthony,  "  thou  hast,  I  warrant  me,  met  in  thy  wanderings 
a  potation  called  a  morning's  draught,  which  they  who  are 
conducted  by  others  where  they  themselves  lack  experience 
are  used  to  bestow  upon  those  who  undertake  the  task  of 
guide  upon  such  an  occasion  ?  " 

"  I  understand  you,  sir,"  quoth  the  minstrel  ;  "  and  al- 
though money,  or  'drink-geld,'  as  the  Fleming  calls  it,  is|o 
rather  a  scarce  commodity  in  the  purse  of  one  of  my  calling, 
yet,  according  to  my  feeble  ability,  thou  shalt  have  no  cause 
to  complain  that  thine  eyes  or  those  of  thy  comrades  have 
been  damaged  by  a  Scottish  mist  while  we  can  find  an 
English  coin  to  pay  for  the  good  liquor  which  should  wash 
them  clear." 

"  Content,"  said  the  archer  ;  ''  we  now  understand  eaci 
other,  and  if  difficulties  arise  on  the  road,  thou  shalt  not 
want  the  countenance  of  Anthony  to  sail  triumphantly 
through  them.  But  thou  hadst  better  let  thy  son  know 
soon  of  the  early  visit  to  the  abbot  to-morrow,  for  thou 
mayst  guess  that  we  cannot  and  dare  not  delay  our  depart- 
ure for  the  convent  a  minute  after  the  eastern  sky  is  ruddy  ; 
and,  with  other  infirmities,  young  men  often  are  prone  to 
laziness  and  a  love  of  ease." 

"  Thou  shalt  have  no  reason  to  think  so,"  answered  the 
minstrel  :  "  not  the  lark  himself,  when  waked  by  the  first 
ray  peeping  over  the  black  cloud,  springs  more  lightly  to 
the  sky  than  will  my  Augustine  answer  the  same  brilliant 
summons.  And  now  we  understand  each  other,  I  would 
only  further  pray  you  to  forbear  light  talk  while  my  son  is 
in  your  company, — a  boy  of  innocent  life,  and  timid  in  con- 
versation." 

"  Nay,  jolly  minstrel,"  said  the  elder  archer,  "  thou  givest 
us  here  too  gross  an  example  of  Satan  reproving  sin.  If 
thou  hast  followed  thy  craft  for  twenty  years,  as  thou  pre- 
tendest,  thy  son,  having  kept  thee  company  since  child^ 
hood,  must  by  this  time  be  fit  to  open  a  school  to  teacli 
even  devils  the  practise  of  the  seven  deadly  sins,  of  which 
none  know  the  theory  if  those  of  the  gay  science  are  lacking." 

"  Truly,  comrade,  thou  speakest  well,"  answered  Bertram, 
"  and  I  acknowledge  that  we  minstrels  are  too  much  to  blame 
in  this  matter.  Nevertheless,  in  good  sooth,  the  fault  is  not 
one  of  which  I  myself  am  particularly  guilty  ;  on  the  con- 


p\ 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  343 

rar}^,  I  think  that  he  who  would  wish  to  have  his  own  hair 
lonored  when  time  lias  strewed  it  with  silver  should  so  rein 
lis  mirth  when  in  the  presence  of  the  young  as  may  show  in 
*fhat  respect  he  holds  innocence.  I  will,  therefore,  with 
/our  permission,  speak  a  word  to  Augustine,  that  to-morrow 
NQ  must  be  on  foot  early." 

"  Do  so,  my  friend,"  said  the  English  soldier;  ''and  do 
he  same  the  more  speedily  that  our  poor  supper  is  still 
iwaiting  until  thou  art  ready  to  partake  of  it." 

**  To  which,  I  promise  thee,"  said  Bertram,  "  I  am  disposed 
o  entertain  no  delay." 

''Follow  me,  then,"  said  Dickson,  "and  I  will  show  thee 
vhere  this  young  bird  of  thine  has  his  nest." 

Their  host  accordingly  tripped  up  the  wooden  stair,  and 
apped  at  a  door,  which  he  thus  indicated  was  that  of  his 
'■ounger  guest. 

"  Your  father,"  continued  he,  as  the  door  opened,  "  would 
peak  with  you.  Master  Augustine." 

"Excuse  me,  my  host,"  answered  Augustine  ;  "the  truth 
s  that  this  room  being  directly  above  your  eating-chamber, 
.nd  the  flooring  not  in  the  best  possible  repair,  I  have  been 
ompelled  to  the  unhandsome  practise  of  eavesdropping, 
^nd  not  a  word  has  escaped  me  that  passed  concerning  my 
)ropo3ed  residence  at  the  abbey,  our  journey  to-morrow, 
,nd  the  somewhat  early  hour  at  which  I  must  shake  o3 
loth,  and,  according  to  thy  expression,  fly  down  from  the 
oost." 

"  And  how  dost  thou  relish,"  said  Dickson,  "  being  left 
nth  the  abbot  of  St.  Bride's  little  flock  here  ?" 

'  Why,  well,"  said  the  youth,  "if  the  abbot  is  a  man  of 
espectability  becoming  his  vocation,  and  not  one  of  those 
waggering  churchmen  who  stretch  out  the  sword,  and  bear 
hemselves  like  rank  soldiers  in  these  troublous  times." 

"For  that,  young  master,"  said  Dickson,  "if  you  let  him 
»ut  his  hand  deep  enough  into  your  purse,  he  will  hardly 
uarrel  with  anything." 

"  Then  I  will  leave  him  to  my  father,"  replied  Augustine, 
'  who  will  not  grudge  him  anything  he  asks  in  reason." 

"■  In  that  case,"  replied  the  Scotchman,  "you  may  trust 
o  our  abbot  for  good  accommodation  ;  and  so  both  sides  are 
.leased." 

"  It  is  well,  my  son,"  said  Bertram,  who  now  joined  in  the 
onversation  ;  "and  that  thou  mayst  be  ready  for  thy  early 
raveling,  I  shall  presently  get  our  host  to  send  thee  some 
ood,  after  partaking  of  which  thou  shouldst  go  to  bed  and 


344  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Bleep  off  the  fatigue  of  to-day,   since  to-morrow  will  bring 
work  for  itself." 

'*  And  as  for  thy  engagement  to  these  honest  archer 
answered  Augustine,  "  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  do  what 
will  give  pleasure  to  our  guides,  if  they  are  disposed  to  be 
civil  and  true  men." 

"  God  bless  thee,  my  child  ! "  answered  Bertram  :  "  thou 
knowest  already  what  would  drag  after  thy  beck  all  the  Eng 
lish  archers  that  were  ever  on  this  side  of  the  Solway.  There 
is  no  fear  of  r  gray-goose  shaft,  if  you  sing  a  reveiUez  like  to 
that  whicli  chimed  even  now  from  that  silken  nest  of  dainty 
young  goldfinches." 

''Hold  me  as  in  readiness,  then,"  said  the  seeming  youth, 
"  when  you  depart  to-morrow  morning.  I  am  within  hear 
ing,  I  suppose,  of  the  bells  of  St.  Bride's  chapel,  and  have 
no  fear,  through  my  sloth,  of  keeping  you  or  your  company 
waiting." 

"Good  night,  and  God  bless  thee,  my  child  !"  again  said 
the  minstrel;  "remember  that  your  father  sleeps  not  far 
distant,  and  on  the  slightest  alarm  will  not  fail  to  be  with 
you.  I  need  scarce  bid  thee  recommend  thyself,  meantime, 
to  the  great  Being  who  is  the  friend  and  father  of  us  all." 

The  pilgrim  thanked  his  supposed  father  for  his  evening 
blessing,  and  the  visitors  withdrew  without  farther  speech  at 
the  time,  leaving  the  young  lady  to  those  engrossing  fears 
which,  the  novelty  of  her  situation  and  the  native  delicacy 
of  her  sex  being  considered,  naturally  thronged  upon  her, 

The  tramp  of  a  horse's  foot  was  not  long  after  heard  at  the 
house  of  Hazelside,  and  the  rider  was  welcomed  by  its  garrison 
with  marks  of  respect.  Bertram  understood  so  much  as  to 
discover  from  the  conversation  of  the  warders  that  this  late 
arrival  was  Aymer  de  Valence,  the  knight  who  commanded 
the  little  party,  and  to  the  furniture  of  whose  lance,  as  it 
was  technically  called,  belonged  the  archers  with  whom  we 
have  already  been  acquainted,  a  man-at-arms  or  two,  a  certain 
proportion  of  pages  or  grooms,  and,  in  short,  the  command 
and  guidance  of  the  garrison  at  Thomas  Dickson's,  while  in 
rank  he  was  deputy-governor  of  Douglas  Castle. 

To  prevent  all  susi^icion  repecting  himself  and  his  com-'*'" 
panion,  as  well  as  the  risk  of  the  latter  being  disturbed,  the 
minstrel  thought  it  proper  to  present  himself  to  the  inspec-  ■ 
tion  of  this  knight,  the  great  authority  of  the  little  place.Faji 
He  found  him,  with  as  little  scruple  as  the  archers  hereto-"''^- 
fore,  making  a  suj)per  off  the  relics  of  the  roast-beef,  ' 

Before  this  young  knight  Bertram  underwent  an  examina-  • 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  345 

tion,  while  an  old  soldier  took  down  in  writing  such  items  of 
information  as  the  examinate  thought  proper  to  express  in 
liis  replies,  both  with  regard  to  the  minutia?  of  his  present 
journey,  his  business  at  Castle  Douglas,  and  his  route  when 
that  business  should  be  accomplished — a  much  more  minute 
examination,  in  a  word,  than  he  had  hitherto  undergone  by 
the  archers,  or  perhaps  than  was  quite  agreeable  to  him,  be- 
ing encumbered  with  at  least  the  knowledge  of  one  secret, 
whatever  more.  Not  that  this  new  examinator  had  anything 
stern  or  severe  in  his  looks  or  his  questions.  As  to  the  first, 
he  was  mild,  gentle,  and    ''meek  as  a  maid,^'   and  possessed 

xactly  of  the  courteous  manners  ascribed  by  our  father 
Chaucer  to  the  pattern  of  chivalry  whom  he  describes  upon 
his  pilgrimage  to  Canterbury.  But,  with  all  his  gentleness, 
De  Valence  showed  a  great  degree  of  acuteuess  and  accuracy 
in  his  queries  ;  and  well  pleased  was  Bertram  that  the  young 
knight  did  not  insist  upon  seeing  his  supposed  son,  although 
9ven  in  that  case  his  ready  wit  had  resolved,  like  a  seaman 

n  a  tempest,  to  sacrifice  one  part  to  preserve  the  rest.  He 
was  not,  however,  driven  to  this  extremity,  being  treated  by 
Sir  Aymer  with  that  degree  of  courtesy  which  in  that  age 
men  of  song  were  in  general  thought  entitled  to.  The  knight 
kindly  and  liberally  consented  to  the  lad's  remaining  in  the 

onvent,  as  a  fit  and  quiet  residence  for  a  stripling  and  an 
invalid,  until  Sir  John  de  Walton  should  express  his  pleasure 
3n  the  subject ;  and  Sir  Aymer  consented  to  this  arrange- 
ment the  more  willingly,  as  it  averted  all  possible  danger  of 
bringing  disease  into  the  English  garrison. 

By  the  young  knight's  order,  all  in  Dickson's  house  were 
iespatclied  earlier  to  rest  than  usual  ;  the  matin  bell  of  the 
neighboring  chapel  being  the  signal  for  their  assembly  by 
iaybreak.  They  rendezvoused  accordingly,  and  proceeded 
50  St.  Bride's,  where  they  heard  mass,  after  which  an  inter- 
view took  place  between  the  abbot  Jerome  and  the  minstrel, 

n  which  the  former  undertook,  with  the  permission  of  De 
Valence,  to  receive  Augustine  into  his  abbey  as  a  guest  for 
few  days,  less  or  more,  and  for  which  Bertram  promised 
m  acknowledgment  in  name  of  alms,  which  was  amply  satis- 
factory. 

'  So  be  it,"  said  Bertram,  taking  leave  of  his  supposed 
son  ;  "rely  on  it  I  will  not  tarry  a  day  longer  at  Douglas 
Castle  than  shall  suffice  for  transacting  my  business  there, 
which  is  to  look  after  the  old  books  you  wot  of,  and  I  will 
speedily  return  for  thee  to  the  abbey  of  St.  Bride,  to  resume 
in  company  our  journey  homeward.'^ 


846  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  0,  father,"  replied  the  youth,  with  a  smile,  "  I  fear,  ii 
you  get  among  romances  and  chronicles,  you  will  be  so 
earnest  in  your  researches  that  you  will  forget  poor  Angus 
tine  and  his  concerns." 

"  Never  fear  me,  Augustine,"  said  the  old  man,  making 
the  motion  of  throwing  a  kiss  towards  the  boy  ;  "  thou  art 
good  and  virtuous,  and  Heaven  will  not  neglect  thee  were 
thy  father  unnatural  enough  to  do  so.  Believe  me,  all  the 
old  songs  since  Merlin's  day  shall  not  make  me  forget  thee.'' 

Thus  they  separated,  the  minstrel,  with  the  English 
knight  and  his  retinue,  to  move  towards  the  castle,  and  the 
youth  in  dutiful  attendance  on  the  venerable  abbot,  who  waf 
delighted  to  find  that  his  guest's  thoughts  turned  rathei 
upon  spiritual  things  than  on  the  morning  repast,  of  the 
approach  of  which  he  could  not  help  being  himself  sensible 


CHAPTER  III 

The  night,  methinks,  is  but  the  daylight  sick, 

It  looks  a  little  paler ;  'tis  a  day 

Such  as  the  day  is  when  the  sun  is  hid. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

To  facilitate  the  progress  of  the  party  on  its  way  to  Douglas 
Castle,  the  knight  of  Valence  offered  the  minstrel  the  con- 
venience of  a  horse,  which  the  fatigues  of  yesterday  made 
him  gladly  accept.  Any  one  acquainted  with  equestrian  ex- 
ercise is  aware  tliat  no  means  of  refreshment  carries  away 
the  sense  of  fatigue  from  over-walking  so  easily  as  the  ex- 
change to  riding,  which  calls  into  play  another  set  of  muscles, 
and  leaves  those  which  have  been  over-exerted  an  opportu- 
nity of  resting  through  change  of  motion  more  completely 
than  they  could  in  absolute  repose.  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence 
was  sheathed  in  armor,  and  mounted  on  his  charger  ;  two  of 
the  ai'chers.  a  groom  of  mean  rank,  and  a  squire,  who  looked 
in  his  day  for  the  honor  of  knighthood,  completed  the  de- 
tachment, which  seemed  so  disposed  as  to  secure  the  min- 
strel from  escape  and  to  protect  him  against  violence. 
"  Not,"  said  the  young  knight,  addressing  himself  to  Ber- 
tram, "  that  there  is  usually  danger  in  traveling  in  this 
country,  any  more  than  in  the  most  quiet  districts  of  Eng- 
land ;  but  some  disturbances,  as  you  may  have  learned,  have 
broken  out  here  within  this  last  year,  and  have  caused  the 
garrison  of  Castle  Douglas  to  maintain  a  stricter  watch. 
But  let  us  move  on,  for  the  complexion  of  the  day  is  con- 
genial with  the  original  derivation  of  the  name  of  the  coun- 
try, and  the  description  of  the  chiefs  to  whom  it  belonged — 
Siiolto  Dim  Glass  (see  yon  dark  gray  man),  and  dark  gray 
will  our  route  prove  this  morning,  though  by  good  luck  it  is 
not  long." 

The  mojning  was  indeed  what  the  original  Gaelic  words 
implied,  a  drizzly,  dark,  moist  day  ;  the  mist  had  settled 
upon  the  hills,  and  unrolled  itself  upon  brook,  glade,  and 
tarn,  and  the  spring  breeze  was  not  powerful  enough  to 
raise  the  veil,  though,  from  the  wild  sounds  which  were 
heard  occasionally  on  the  ridges,  and  through  the  glens,  it 
might  be  supposed  to  wail  at  a  sense  of  its  own  inability. 
347 


348  WA  VERLEY  NO VEL S 

The  route  of  the  travelers  was  directed  by  the  course  which 
the  river  had  plowed  for  itself  down  the  valley,  the  banks  of 
which  bore  in  general  that  dark  gray  livery  which  Sir 
Aymer  de  Valence  had  intimated  to  be  the  prevalent  tint  of 
the  country.  Some  ineffectual  struggles  of  the  sun  shot  a 
ray  here  and  there  to  salute  the  peaks  of  the  hills  ;  yet  these 
were  unable  to  surmount  the  dulness  of  a  March  morning, 
and,  at  so  early  an  hour,  produced  a  variety  of  shades,  rather 
than  a  gleam  of  brightness,  upon  the  eastern  horizon.  The 
view  was  monotonous  and  depressing,  and  apparently  the 
good  knight  Aymer  sought  some  amusement  in  occasional 
talk  with  Bertram,  who,  as  was  usual  with  his  craft,  pos- 
sessed a  fund  of  knowledge  and  a  power  of  conversation  well 
suited  to  pass  away  a  dull  morning.  The  minstrel,  well 
pleased  to  j^ick  up  such  information  as  he  might  be  able 
concerning  the  present  state  of  the  country,  embraced  every 
opportunity  of  sustaining  the  dialogue. 

"  I  would  speak  with  you,  sir  minstrel,"  said  the  young 
knight.  "  If  thou  dost  not  find  the  air  of  this  morning  too 
harsh  for  thine  organs,  heartily  do  I  wish  thou  wouldst 
fairly  tell  me  what  can  have  induced  thee,  being,  as  thou 
seemest,  a  man  of  sense,  to  thrust  thyself  into  a  wild  coun- 
try like  this,  at  such  a  time.  And  you,  my  masters,"  ad- 
dressing the  archers  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  ''  methinks 
it  would  be  as  fitting  and  seeming  if  you  reined  back  your 
steeds  for  a  horse's  length  or  so,  since  I  apprehend  you 
can  travel  on  your  way  without  the  pastime  of  minstrelsy." 
The  bowmen  took  the  hint,  and  fell  back,  but,  as  was  ex- 
pressed by  their  grumbling  observations,  by  no  means  pleased 
that  there  seemed  little  chance  of  their  overhearing  what 
conversation  should  pass  between  the  young  knight  and  the 
minstrel,  which  proceeded  as  follows  : — 

"  I  am,  then,  to  understand,  good  minstrel,"  said  the 
knight,  'Hhat  you,  who  have  in  your  time  borne  arms,  and 
even  followed  St.  George's  red-cross  banner  to  the  Holy  Sep- 
ulchre, are  so  little  tired  of  the  danger  attending  our  pro- 
fession, that  you  feel  yourself  attracted  unnecessarily  to  re- 
gions where  the  sword,  forever  loose  in  its  scabbard,  is  ready 
to  start  on  the  slightest  provocation  ?" 

"It  would  be  hard,"  replied  the  minstrel,^bluntly,  *' to 
answer  such  a  question  in  the  affirmative  ;  and  yet,  when 
you  consider  how  nearly  allied  is  his  profession  who  cele- 
brates deeds  of  arms  with  that  of  the  knight  who  performs 
them,  your  honor,  I  think,  will  hold  it  advisable  that  a 
minstrel  desirous  of  doing  his  devoir  should,  like  a  young 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  349 

knight,  seek  the  truth  of  adventures  where  it  is  to  be  found, 
and  rather  visit  countries  where  the  knowledge  is  preserved 
of  high  and  noble  deeds  than  those  lazy  and  quiet  realms  in 
which  men  live  indolently,  and  die  ignobly  in  peace,  or  by 
sentence  of  law.  You  yourself,  sir,  and  those  like  you,  who 
hold  life  cheap  in  respect  of  glory,  guide  your  course  through 
this  world  on  the  very  same  principle  which  brings  your 
poor  rhyming  servant  Bertram  from  a  far  province  of  Merry 
England  to  this  dark  country  of  rugged  Scotland  called 
Douglas  Dale.  You  long  to  see  adventures  worthy  of  notice, 
and  I — under  favor  for  naming  us  two  in  the  same  breath^ 
seek  a  scanty  and  precarious,  but  not  a  dishonorable,  living 
by  preparing  for  immortality,  as  well  as  I  can,  the  particulars 
of  such  exploits,  especially  the  names  of  those  who  were  the 
heroes  of  these  actions.  Each,  therefore,  labors  in  his  voca- 
tion ;  nor  can  the  one  be  justly  wondered  at  more  than  the 
other,  seeing  that,  if  there  be  any  difference  in  the  degrees 
of  danger  to  which  both  the  hero  and  the  poet  are  exposed, 
the  courage,  strength,  arms,  and  address  of  the  valiant 
knight  render  it  safer  for  him  to  venture  into  scenes  of  peril 
than  for  the  poor  man  of  rhyme." 

"  You  say  well,"  answered  the  warrior  ;  "  and  although 
it  is  something  of  novelty  to  me  to  hear  your  craft  represented 
as  upon  a  level  with  my  own  mode  of  life,  yet  shame  were  it 
to  say  that  the  minstrel  who  toils  so  much  to  keep  in  memory 
the  feats  of  gallant  knights  should  not  himself  prefer  fame 
to  existence,  and  a  single  achievement  of  valor  to  a  whole 
age  without  a  name,  or  to  affirm  that  he  follows  a  mean  and 
unworthy  profession." 

"  Your  worship  will  then  acknowledge,"  said  the  minstrel, 
"  that  it  is  a  legitimate  object  in  such  as  myself,  who,  sim- 
ple as  I  am,  have  taken  my  regular  degrees  among  the  pro- 
fessors of  the  gay  science  at  the  capital  town  of  Aigues- 
Mortes,  to  struggle  forward  into  this  Northern  district,  where 
I  am  well  assured  many  things  have  happened  which  have 
been  adopted  to  the  harp  by  minstrels  of  great  fame  in  an- 
cient days,  and  have  become  the  subject  of  lays  which  lie 
deposited  in  the  library  of  Castle  Douglas,  where,  unless 
copied  over  by  some  one  who  understands  the  old  British 
characters  and  language,  they  must,  with  whatever  they  may 
contain,  whether  of  entertainment  or  edification,  be  speedily 
lost  to  posterity.  If  these  hidden  treasures  were  preserved 
and  recorded  by  the  minstrel  art  of  my  poor  self  and  others, 
it  might  be  held  well  to  compensate  for  the  risk  of  a  chance 
blow  of  a  broadsword,  or  the  sweep  of  a  brown-bill,  received 


850  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

while  I  am  engaged  in  collecting  them  ;  and  I  were  unworthy 
of  the  name  of  a  man,  much  more  of  an  inventor  or  finder,* 
should  I  weigh  the  loss  of  life,  a  commodity  always  so  un- 
certain, against  the  chance  of  that  immortality  which  will 
survive  in  my  lay  after  my  broken  voice  and  shivered  harp 
shall  no  longer  be  able  either  to  express  tune  or  accompany 
tale." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Sir  Aymer,  ''  having  a  heart  to  feel  such 
a  motive,  you  have  an  undoubted  right  to  express  it  ;  nor 
should  I  have  been  in  any  degree  disposed  to  question  it  had 
I  found  many  minstrels  j)repared,  like  yourself,  to  prefer 
renown  even  to  life  itself,  which  most  men  think  of  greatly 
more  consequence.'" 

"There  are,  indeed,  noble  sir,"  replied  Bertram,  "min- 
strels, and,  with  your  reverence,  even  belted  knights  them- 
selves, who  do  not  sufficiently  value  that  renown  which  is 
acquired  at  the  risk  of  life.  To  such  ignoble  men  we  must 
leave  their  own  reward  :  let  us  abandon  to  them  earth,  and 
the  things  of  earth,  since  they  cannot  aspire  to  that  glory 
which  is  the  best  reward  of  others." 

The  minstrel  uttered  these  last  words  with  such  enthusi- 
asm that  the  knight  drew  his  bridle  and  stood  fronting  Ber- 
tram, with  his  countenance  kindling  at  the  same  theme,  on 
which,  after  a  short  silence,  he  expressed  himself  with  a  like 
vivacity. 

"  Well  fare  thy  heart,  gay  companion  !  I  am  happy  to  see 
there  is  still  so  much  enthusiam  surviving  in  the  world. 
Thou  hast  fairly  won  the  minstrel  groat  ;  and  if  I  do  not 
pay  it  in  conformity  to  my  sense  of  thy  merit,  it  shall  be  the 
fault  of  dame  Fortune,  who  has  graced  my  labors  in  these 
Scottish  wars  with  the  niggard  pay  of  Scottish  money.  A 
gold  piece  or  two  there  must  be  remaining  of  the  ransom 
of  one  French  knight  whom  chance  threw  into  my  hands, 
and  that,  my  friend,  shall  surely  be  thine  own  ;  and  hark 
thee,  I,  Aymer  de  Valence,  who  now  speak  to  thee,  am  born 
of  the  noble  house  of  Pembroke  ;  and  though  now  landless, 
shall,  by  the  grace  of  Our  Lady,  have  in  time  a  fitting 
establishment,  wherein  1  will  find  room  for  a  minstrel  like 
thee,  if  thy  talents  have  not  by  that  time  found  thee  a  better 
patron." 

"Thank   thee,   noble  knight,"   said   the  ministrel,   "as 
well  for  thy  present  intentions  as  I  hope  I  shall  for  thy  future 
performance  ;  but  I  may  say  with  truth  that  I  have  not  the 
gordid  inclination  of  many  of  my  brethren." 
•  See  Maker  or  Trouveur.    Note  4. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  351 

*'He  who  partakes  the  true  thirst  of  noble  fame,"  said 
the  young  knight,  "  can  have  little  room  in  his  heart  for  the 
love  of  gold.  But  thou  hast  not  yet  told  me,  friend  minstrel, 
what  are  the  motives,  in  particular,  which  have  attracted  thy 
wandering  steps  to  this  wild  country  ?" 

"  Were  I  to  do  so,"  replied  Bertram,  rather  desirous  to 
avoid  the  question  as  in  some  respects  too  nearly  bordering 
on  the  secret  purpose  of  his  journey,  "it  might  sound  like 
a  studied  panegyric  on  thine  own  bold  deeds,  sir  knight,  and 
those  of  your  companion-in-arms  ;  and  such  adulation,  min- 
strel as  I  am,  I  hate  like  an  emj^ty  cup  at  a  companion's  lips. 
But  let  me  say  in  few  words,  that  Douglas  Castle,  and  the 
deeds  of  valor  which  it  has  witnessed,  have  sounded  wide 
through  England  ;  nor  is  there  a  gallant  knight  or  trusty 
minstrel  whose  heart  does  not  throb  at  the  name  of  the  strong- 
hold, which  in  former  days  the  foot  of  an  Englishman  never 
entered,  except  in  hospitality.  There  is  a  magic  in  the  very 
names  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  and  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  the 
gallant  defenders  of  a  place  so  often  won  back  by  its  ancient 
lords,  and  with  such  circumstances  of  valor  and  cruelty  that 
it  bears  in  England  the  name  of  the  Dangerous  Castle." 

"  Yet  I  would  fain  hear,"  answered  the  knight,  "your 
own  minstrel  account  of  those  legends  which  have  induced 
you,  for  the  amusement  of  future  times,  to  visit  a  country 
which,  at  this  period,  is  so  distracted  and  perilous." 

"  If  you  can  endure  the  length  of  a  minstrel  tale,"  said 
Bertram,  "  I  for  one  am  always  amused  by  the  exercise  of 
my  vocation,  and  have  no  objection  to  tell  my  story,  provided 
you  do  not  prove  an  impatient  listener." 

"Nay,  for  that  matter,"  said  the  young  knight,  "  a  fail 
listener  thou  shalt  have  of  me  ;  and  if  my  reward  be  not 
great,  my  attention  at  least  shall  be  remarkable." 

"And  he,"  said  the  minstrel,  "must  be  a  poor  gleeman 
who  does  not  hold  himself  better  paid  with  that  than  with 
gold  or  silver,  were  the  pieces  English  rose-nobles.  On  this 
condition,  then,  I  begin  a  long  story,  which  may,  in  one  or 
other  of  its  details,  find  subject  for  better  minstrels  than  my- 
self, and  be  listened  to  by  such  warriors  as  you  hundreds  of 
years  hence." 


CHAPTER  IV 

While  many  a  merry  lay  and  many  a  song 

Cheer'd  the  rough  road,  we  wished  the  rough  road  long ; 

The  rougli  road,  then  returning  in  a  round, 

Mark'd  their  impatient  steps,  for  all  was  fairy  ground. 

Dr.  Johnson. 

"  It  was  about  the  year  of  redemption  one  thousand  two 
hundred  and  eighty-five  [1283]  years,"  began  the  minstrel, 
"  when  King  Alexander  the  Third  of  Scotland  lost  his  daugh- 
ter Margaret,  whose  only  child,  of  the  same  name,  called 
the  Maiden  of  Norway,  as  her  father  was  king  of  that  country, 
became  the  heiress  of  this  kingdom  of  Scotland,  as  well  as 
of  her  father's  crown.  An  unhappy  death  was  this  for  Alex- 
ander, who  had  no  nearer  heirs  left  of  his  own  body  than 
this  grandchild.  She  indeed  might  claim  his  kingdom  by 
birthright,  but  the  difficulty  of  establishing  such  a  claim  of 
inheritance  must  have  been  anticipated  by  all  who  bestowed 
a  thought  upon  the  subject.  The  Scottish  king,  therefore, 
endeavored  to  make  up  for  his  loss  by  replacing  his  late 
queen,  who  was  an  English  princess,  sister  of  our  Edward 
the  First,  with  Juletia,  daughter  of  the  Count  de  Dreux. 
The  solemnities  at  the  nuptial  ceremony,  which  took  place 
in  the  town  of  Jedburgh,  were  very  great  and  remarkable, 
and  particularly  when,  amidst  the  display  of  a  pageant  which 
was  exhibited  on  the  occasion,  a  ghastly  specter  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  the  form  of  a  skeleton,  as  the  King  of  Terrors 
is  said  to  be  represented.  Your  worship  is  free  to  laugh  at 
this,  if  you  think  it  a  proper  subject  for  mirth  ;  but  men  are 
alive  who  viewed  it  with  their  own  eyes,  and  tlie  event  showed 
too  well  of  what  misfortunes  this  apparition  was  the  singular 
prognostication." 

"  I  have  heard  the  story, '^  said  the  knight ;  "  but  the 
monk  who  told  it  me  suggested  that  the  figure,  though  un- 
happily chosen,  was  perhaps  purposely  introduced  as  a  part 
of  the  pageant.'" 

"  I  know  not  that/^  said  the  minstrel,  drily  ;  "  but  there 
is  no  doubt  that  shortly  after  this  apparition  King  Alexander 
died,  to  the  great  sorrow  of  his  people.  The  Maid  of  Nor- 
352 


1 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  358 

way,  his  heiress,  speedily  followed  her  grandfather  to  the 
grave,  and  our  English  king,  sir  knight,  raked  up  a  claim 
of  dependency  and  homage  duq,  he  said,  by  Scotland,  which 
neither  the  lawyers,  nobles,  priests,  nor  the  very  minstrels 
of  Scotland  had  ever  before  heard  of." 

"Now,  beshrew  me/'  interrupted  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence, 
'' this  is  beyond  bargain.  I  agreed  to  hear  your  tale  with 
patience,  but  I  did  not  pledge  myself  that  it  should  contain 
matter  to  the  reproach  of  Edward  the  First,  of  blessed 
memory  j  nor  will  I  permit  his  name  to  be  mentioned  in  my 
hearing  without  the  respect  due  to  his  high  rank  and  noble 
qualities. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  minstrel,  "  I  am  no  Highland  bagpiper 
or  genealogist,  to  carry  respect  for  my  art  so  far  as  to  quar- 
relwith  a  man  of  worship  who  stops  me  at  the  beginning  of 
a  pibroch.  I  am  an  Englishman,  and  wish  dearly  well  lo  my 
country  ;  and,  above  all,  I  must  speak  the  truth.  But  I 
will  avoid  disputable  topics.  Your  age,  sir,  though  none  of 
the  ripest,  authorizes  me  to  suppose  you  may  have  seen  the 
battle  of  Falkirk,  and  other  onslaughts  in  which  the  compe- 
tition of  Bruce  and  Baliol  has  been  fiercely  agitated,  and  you 
will  permit  me  to  say  that,  if  the  Scottish  have  not  had  the 
right  upon  their  side,  they  have  at  least  defended  the  wrong 
with  the  efforts  of  brave  men  and  true." 

"  Of  brave  men,  I  grant  you,"  said  the  knight,  "  for  I 
have  seen  no  cowards  amongst  them  ;  but  as  for  truth,  they 
can  best  judge  of  it  who  know  how  often  they  have  sworn 
faith  to  England,  and  how  repeatedly  they  have  broken  their 
vow." 

''I  shall  not  stir  the  question,"  said  the  minstrel,  ''leav- 
ing it  to  your  worship  to  determine  which  has  most  false- 
hood, he  who  compels  a  weaker  person  to  take  an  unjust 
oath,  or  he  who,  compelled  by  necessity,  takes  the  imposed 
oath  without  the  intention  of  keeping  his  word." 

"  Nay — nay,"  said  De  Valence,  "  let  us  keeji  our  opinions, 
for  we  are  not  likely  to  force  each  other  from  the  faith  we 
have  adopted  on  this  subject.  But  take  my  advice,  and, 
whilst  thou  travelest  under  an  English  joennon,  take  heed 
that  thou  keepest  off  this  conversation  in  the  hall  and 
kitchen,  where  perhaps  the  soldier  may  be  less  tolerant  than 
the  officer.  And  now,  in  a  word,  what  is  thy  legend  of  this 
Dangerous  Castle  ?  " 

"For  that,"  replied  Bertram,  "methinks  your  worship  is 
most  likely  to  have  a  better  edition  than  I,  who  have  not 
been  in  this  country  for  many  years  ;  but  it  is  not  for  me  to 
23 


354  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

bandy  opinions  with  your  knightsliip.  I  will  even  proceed 
with  the  tale  as  I  have  heard  it.  I  need  not,  I  presume,  in- 
form your  worship  that  the  Lords  of  Douglas,  who  founded 
this  castle,  are  second  to  no  lineage  in  Scotland  in  the  anti- 
quity of  their  descent.  Nay,  they  have  themselves  boasted 
that  their  family  is  not  to  be  seen  or  distinguished,  likeotner 
great  houses,  until  it  is  found  at  once  in  a  certain  degree  of 
eminence.  "  You  may  see  us  in  the  tree,"  they  say,  "you 
cannot  discover  us  in  the  twig  ;  you  may  see  us  in  the  stream, 
you  cannot  trace  us  to  the  fountain.""  In  a  word,  they  deny 
that  historians  or  genealogists  can  point  out  the  first  mean 
man  named  Douglas  who  originally  elevated  the  family  ;  and 
true  it  is  that,  so  far  back  as  we  have  knowai  thisrace,  they 
have  always  been  renowned  for  valor  and  enterprise,  acf^om- 
panied  with  the  power  which  made  that  enterprise  effectual.'' 
"  Enough,"  said  the  knight,  "I  have  heard  of  the  pride 
and  power  of  that  great  family,  nor  does  it  interest  me  in 
the  least  to  deny  or  detract  from  their  bold  claims  to  con- 
sideration in  this  respect." 

"Without  doubt  you  must  also  have  heard,  noble  sir," 
replied  the  minstrel,  "many  things  of  James,  the  present 
heir  of  the  house  of  Douglas  ?  " 

"  More  than  enough,"  answered  the  English  knight ;  "  he 
is  known  to  have  been  a  stout  supporter  of  that  outlawed 
traitor,  William  Wallace  ;  and  again,  upon  the  first  raising 
of  the  banner  by  this  Eobert  Bruce,  who  pretends  to  be  King 
of  Scotland,  this  young  springald,  James  Douglas,  must 
needs  start  into  rebellion  anew.  He  plunders  his  uncle,  the 
Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews,  of  a  considerable  sum  of  uioney 
to  fill  the  Scottish  usurper's  not  over-burdened  treasury,  de- 
bauches the  servants  of  his  relation,  takes  arms,  and,  though 
repeatedly  chastised  in  the  field,  still  keeps  his  vaunt,  and 
threatens  mischief  to  those  who,  in  the  name  of  his  rightful 
sovereign,  defend  the  Castle  of  Douglas  Dale." 

-'  It  is  your  pleasure  to  say  so,  sir  knight,"  replied  Ber- 
tram ;  "yet  I  am  sure,  were  you  a  Scot,  you  would  with 
patience  hear  me  tell  over  what  has  been  said  of  this  young 
man  by  those  who  have  known  him,  and  whose  account  of 
his  adventures  shows  how  differently  the  same  tale  may  be 
told.  These  men  talk  of  the  present  heir  of  this  ancient 
family  as  fully  adequate  to  maintain  and  augment  its  reputa- 
tion ;  ready,  iudeed,  to  undergo  every  peril  in  the  cause  of 
Eobert  the  Bruce,  because  the  Bruce  is  esteemed  by  him  his 
lawful  king ;  and  sworn  and  devoted,  with  such  small  strength 
as  he  can  muster,  to  revenge  himself  on  those  Southrons  who 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  355 

have,  for  several  years,  as  lie  thiuks,  unjustly  possessed  them- 
selves of  their  father's  abode." 

"  0,"  replied  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  "  we  have  heard  much 
of  his  achievements  in  this  respect,  and  of  his  threats  against 
our  governor  and  ourselves  ;  yet  we  think  it  scarce  likely  that 
Sir  John  de  Walton  will  move  from  Douglas  Dale  without 
the  King's  order,  although  this  James  Douglas,  a  mere 
chicken,  take  upon  himself  to  crack  his  voice  by  crowing 
like  a  cock  of  the  game." 

"  Sir.,"  answered  Bertram,  "  our  acquaintance  is  but  brief, 
and  yet  I  feel  it  has  been  so  beneficial  to  me,  that  I  trust 
there  is  no  harm  in  hoping  that  James  Douglas  and  you  may 
never  meet  in  bodily  presence  till  the  state  of  the  two  coun- 
tries shall  admit  of  peace  being  between  you." 

*'  Thou  art  obliging,  friend,"  answered  Sir  Aymer,  "and, 
I  doubt  not,  sincere ;  and  truly  thou  seemest  to  have  a 
wholesome  sense  of  the  respect  due  to  this  young  knight  when 
men  talk  of  him  in  his  native  valley  of  Douglas.  For  me,  I 
am  only  poor  Aymer  of  Valence,  without  an  acre  of  land,  or 
much  hope  of  acquiring  any,  unless  I  cut  something  huge 
with  my  broadsword  out  of  the  middle  of  these  hills.  Only 
this,  good  raiustrei,  if  thou  livest  to  tell  my  story,  may  I  pray 
thee  to  use  thy  scrupulous  custom  of  searching  out  the  verity, 
and  whether  I  live  or  die  thou  shalt  not,  I  think,  discover 
that  thy  late  acquaintance  of  a  spring  morning  hath  added 
more  to- the  laurels  of  James  of  Douglas  than  any  man's  death 
must  give  to  him  by  whose  stronger  arm,  cr  more  lucky 
chance,  it  is  his  lot  to  fall." 

"  I  nothing  fear  you,  sir  knight,"  said  the  minstrel,  "  for 
yours  is  that  happy  brain  which,  bold  in  youth  as  beseems  a 
young  knightj  is  in  more  advanced  life  the  happy  source  of 
prudent  counsel,  of  which  I  would  not,  by  an  early  death, 
wish  thy  country  to  be  deprived." 

"  Thou  art  so  candid,  then,  as  to  wish  Old  England  the 
benefit  of  good  advice,"  said  Sir  Aymer,  "though  thou 
leanest  to  the  side  of  Scotland  in  the  controversy  ?  " 

"Assuredly,  sir  knight,"  said  the  minstrel,  "since,  in 
wishing  that  Scotland  and  England  each  knew  their  own 
true  interest,  I  am  bound  to  wish  them  both  alike  well ;  and 
they  should,  I  think,  desire  to  live  in  friendship  together. 
Occupying  each  their  own  portion  of  the  same  island,  and 
living  under  the  same  laws,  and  being  at  peace  with  each 
other,  they  might,  without  fear,  face  the  enmity  of  the 
whole  world.' 

"  If  thy  faith  be  so  liberal,"  answered  the  knight,  "  as  be- 


356  WA VERLEY  NOVELS 

comes  a  good  miin,  thou  must  certainly  pray,  sir  minstrel, 
for  the  success  of  England  in  the  war,  by  which  alone  these 
murderous  hostilities  of  the  Northern  nation  can  end  in  a 
solid  peace.  The  rebellions  of  this  obstinate  country  are  but 
the  struggles  of  the  stag  when  he  is  mortally  wounded  :  the 
animal  grows  weaker  and  weaker  with  every  struggle,  till  his 
resistance  is  effectually  tamed  by  the  hand  of  death." 

"Not  so,  sir  knight,"  said  the  minstrel ;  ''if  my  creed  is 
well  taught  me,  we  ought  not  so  to  pray.  We  may,  without 
offense,  intimate  in  our  prayers  the  end  we  wish  to  obtain  ; 
but  it  is  not  for  us  poor  mortals  to  point  out  to  an  all-seeing 
Providence  the  precise  manner  in  which  our  petitions  are  to 
be  accomplished,  or  to  wish  the  downfall  of  a  country  to  end 
its  commotions,  as  the  death-stab  terminates  the  agonies  of 
the  wounded  stag.  AVhether  I  appeal  to  my  heart  or  to  my 
understanding,  the  dictate  would  be  to  petition  Heaven  for 
what  is  just  and  equal  in  the  case  ;  and  if  I  should  fear  for 
thee,  sir  knight,  in  an  encounter  with  James  of  Douglas,  it 
is  only  because  he  upholds,  as  I  conceive,  the  better  side  of 
the  debate,  and  powers  more  than  earthly  have  presaged  to 
him  success." 

"  Do  you  tell  me  so,  sir  minstrel,"  said  De  Valence  in  a 
threatening  tone,  "knowing  me  and  my  office  ?" 

"Your  personal  dignity  and  authority,"  said  Bertram, 
"  cannot  change  the  right  into  wrong,  or  avert  what  Provi- 
dence has  decreed  to  take  place.  You  know,  I  must  presume, 
that  the  Douglas  hath,  by  various  devices,  already  contrived 
to  make  himself  master  of  this  Castle  of  Douglas  three 
several  times,  and  that  Sir  John  De  Walton,  the  present 
governor,  holds  it  with  a  garrison  trebled  in  force,  and  under 
the  assurance  that  if,  without  surprise,  he  should  keep  it 
from  the  Scottish  power  for  a  year  and  a  day,  he  shall  obtain 
the  barony  of  Douglas,  with  its  extensive  appendages,  in  free 
property  for  his  reward  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  if  he  shall 
suffer  the  fortress  during  this  space  to  be  taken,  either  by 
guile  or  by  open  force,  as  has  happened  successively  to  the 
holders  of  the  Dangerous  Castle,  he  will  become  liable  to  dis- 
honor as  a  knight  and  to  attainder  as  a  subject ;  and  th.; 
chiefs  who  take  share  with  him  and  serve  under  him  will 
participate  also  in  his  guilt  and  his  punishment." 

"  All  this  I  know  well,"  said  Sir  Aymer  ;  "  and  I  only 
wonder  that,  having  become  public,  the  conditions  have, 
nevertheless,  been  told  with  so  much  accuracy  ;  but  what 
has  this  to  do  with  the  issue  of  the  combat,  if  the  Douglas 
and  I  should  chance  to  meet  ?    I  will  not  surely  be  disposed 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  357 

to  fight  with  less  animation  because  I  wear  my  fortune  upon 
my  sword,  or  become  coward  because  I  fight  for  a  portion  of 
the  Douglas's  estate,  as  well  as  for  fame  and  for  fatherland  ? 
And  after  all " 

"  Hear  me,"  said  the  minstrel  ;  "  an  ancient  gleeman  has 
said  that  in  a  false  quarrel  there  is  no  true  valor,  and  the 
los  or  praise  won  therein  is,  when  balanced  against  honest 
fame,  as  valueless  as  a  wreath  formed  out  of  copper  com- 
pared to  a  chaplet  of  pure  gold  ;  but  I  bid  you  not  take  me 
for  thy  warrant  in  this  important  question.  Thou  well 
knowest  how  James  of  Thirlwall,  the  last  English  com- 
mander before  Sir  John  de  Walton,  was  surprised,  and  the 
castle  sacked  with  circumstances  of  great  inhumanity." 

**' Truly,"  said  Sir  Aymer,  "I  think  that  Scotland  and 
England  both  have  heard  of  that  onslaught,  and  of  the  dis- 
gusting proceedings  of  the  Scottish  chieftain,  when  he 
caused  transport  into  the  wild  forest  gold,  silver,  ammuni- 
tion, and  armor,  and  all  things  that  could  be  easily  removed, 
and  destroyed  a  large  quantity  of  provisions,  in  a  manner 
equally  savage  and  nnheard  of." 

"  Perhaps,  sir  knight,"  said  Bertram,  ''  you  were  yourself 
an  eyewitness  of  that  transaction,  which  has  been  spoken  of 
far  and  wide,  and  is  called  the  Douglas  Larder  ?" 

"1  saw  not  the  actual  accomplishment  of  the  deed,"  said 
De  Valence — "  that  is,  I  witnessed  it  not  a-doing — but  I 
beheld  enough  of  the  sad  relics  to  make  the  Douglas  Larder 
never  by  me  to  be  forgotten  as  a  record  of  horror  and  abomi- 
nation. I  would  speak  it  truly,  by  the  hand  of  my  father 
and  by  my  honor  as  a  knight  !  and  I  will  leave  it  to  thee  to 
judge  wliether  it  was  a  deed  calculated  to  secure  the  smiles 
of  Heaven  in  favor  of  the  actors.  This  is  my  edition  of  the 
etory  : — 

"  A  large  quantity  of  provisions  had  during  two  years  or 
thereabouts  been  collected  from  different  points,  and  the 
castle  of  Douglas,  newly  repaired,  and,  as  was  thought,  care- 
fully guarded,  was  appointed  as  the  place  where  the  said 
provisions  were  to  be  put  in  store  for  the  service  of  the  King 
of  England,  or  of  the  Lord  Clifford,  whichever  should  first 
enter  the  western  marches  with  an  English  army,  and  stand 
in  need  of  such  a  supply.  This  army  was  also  to  relieve  our 
wants — I  mean  those  of  my  uncle  the  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
who  for  some  time  before  had  lain  with  a  considerable  force 
in  the  town  called  Ayr,  near  tlie  old  Caledonian  Poorest,  and 
where  we  had  hot  wars  with  the  insurgent  Scots.  Well,  sir, 
it  happened,  as  in  similar  cases,  that  Thirlwall,  though  a 


358  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

bold  and  active  soldier,  was  surprised  in  the  Castle  of  Doug- 
las,  about  Hallowmass,  by  this  same  worthy,  young  James 
Douglas.  In  no  very  good  humor  was  he,  as  you  may  sup- 
pose ;  for  his  father,  called  William  the  Hardy,  or  William 
Long-legs,  having  refused,  on  any  terms,  to  become  Angli- 
cized, was  made  a  lawful  prisoner,  and  died  as  such,  closely 
confined  in  Berwick,  or,  as  some  say,  in  Newcastle.  The 
news  of  his  father's  death  had  put  young  Douglas  into  no 
small  rage,  and  tended,  I  think,  to  suggest  what  he  did  in 
his  resentment.  Embarrassed  by  the  quantity  of  provisions 
which  he  found  in  the  castle,  which,  the  English  being  su- 
perior in  the  country,  he  had  neither  the  means  to  remove 
nor  the  leisure  to  stay  and  consume,  the  fiend,  as  I  think, 
inspired  him  with  a  contrivance  to  render  them  unfit  for 
human  use.  You  shall  Judge  yourself  whether  it  was  likely 
to  be  suggested  by  a  good  or  an  evil  spirit. 

''According  to  this  device,  the  gold,  silver,  and  other 
transportable  commodities  being  carried  to  secret  places  of 
safety,  Douglas  caused  the  meat,  the  malt,  and  other  corn 
or  grain,  to  be  brought  down  into  the  castle  cellar,  where  he 
emptied  the  contents  of  the  sacks  into  one  loathsome  heap, 
striking  out  the  heads  of  the  barrels  and  puncheons,  so  as 
to  let  the  mingled  drink  run  through  the  heap  of  meal, 
grain,  and  so  forth.  The  bullocks  provided  for  slaughter 
were  in  like  manner  knocked  on  the  head,  and  their  blood 
suffered  to  drain  into  the  mass  of  edible  substances  ;  and 
lastly,  the  flesh  of  these  oxen  was  buried  in  the  same  mass, 
in  which  were  also  included  the  dead  bodies  of  those  in  the 
castle,  who,  receiving  no  quarter  from  the  Douglas,  paid 
dear  enough  for  having  kept  no  better  watch.  This  base 
and  unworthy  abuse  of  provisions  intended  for  the  use  of 
man,  together  with  throwing  into  the  well  of  the  castle  car- 
casses of  men  and  horses,  and  other  filth  for  polluting  the 
same,  has  since  that  time  been  called  the  Douglas  Lardek." 

''I  pretend  not,  good  Sir  Aymer,"  said  the  minstrel,  ''to 
vindicate  what  you  justly  reprove,  nor  can  I  conceive  any 
mode  of  rendering  provisions  arranged  after  the  form  of  the 
Douglas  Larder  proper  for  the  use  of  any  Christian  ;  yet 
this  young  gentleman  might  perhaps  act  under  the  sting  of 
natural  resentment,  rendering  his  singular  exploit  more  ex- 
cusable than  it  may  seem  at  first.  Think,  if  your  own  noble 
father  had  just  died  in  a  lingering  captivity,  his  inheritance 
seized  upon,  and  occupied  as  a  garrison  by  a  foreign  enemy, 
would  not  these  things  stir  you  to  a  mode  of  resentment 
which,  in  cold  blood,  and  judging  of  it  as  the  action  of  an 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  359 

enemy,  your  honor  might  hold  in  natural  and  laudable  ab- 
horrence ?  Would  you  pay  respect  to  dead  and  senseless 
objects,  which  no  one  could  blame  your  appropriating  to 
your  own  use,  or  even  scruple  tlie  refusal  of  quarter  to  pris- 
oners, which  is  so  often  practised  even  in  wars  which  are 
otherwise  termed  fair  and  humane  ?" 

"  You  press  me  close,  minstrel,"  said  Aymer  de  Valence. 
"  I  at  least  have  no  great  interest  to  excuse  the  Douglas  in 
this  matter,  since  its  consequences  were,  that  I  myself,  and 
the  rest  of  my  uncle's  host,  labored  with  Clifford  and  his 
army  to  rebuild  this  same  Dangerous  Castle  ;  and  feeling  no 
stomach  for  the  cheer  that  the  Douglass  had  left  us  we 
suffered  hard  commons,  though  I  acknowledge  we  did  not 
hesitate  to  adopt  for  our  own  use  such  sheep  and  oxen  as  the 
miserable  Scots  had  still  left  around  their  farmhouses  ;  and 
I  jest  not,  sir  ministrel,  when  I  acknowledge  in  sad  earnest 
that  we  martial  men  ought  to  make  our  petitions  with 
peculiar  penitence  to  Heaven  for  mercy,  when  we  reflect  on 
.the  various  miseries  which  the  nature  of  our  profession 
compels  us  to  inflict  upon  each  other." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  answered  the  minstrel,  "  that  those 
who  feel  the  stings  of  their  own  conscience  should  be  more 
lenient  when  they  speak  of  the  offenses  of  others  ;  nor  do  I 
greatly  rely  on  a  sort  of  prophecy  which  was  delivered,  as 
the  men  of  this  hill  district  say,  to  the  young  Douglas,  by  a 
man  who  in  the  course  of  nature  should  have  been  long  since 
dead,  promising  him  a  course  of  success  against  the  English 
for  having  sacrificed  his  own  castle  to  prevent  their  making 
it  a  garrison." 

"  We  have  time  enough  for  the  story,"  said  Sir  Aymer, 
**  and  methinks  it  would  suit  a  knight  and  a  minstrel  better 
than  the  grave  converse  we  have  hitherto  held,  which  would 
have  beseemed — so  God  save  me  ! — the  mouths  of  two 
traveling  friars." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  the  minstrel :  "  tlie  rote  or  the  viol 
easily  changes  its  time  and  varies  its  note." 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  tale  of  sorrow,  for  your  eyes  may  weep  ; 
A  tale  of  horror,  for  your  flesh  may  tingle  ; 
A  tale  of  wonder,  for  the  eyebrows  arch, 
And  the  flesh  curdles,  if  you  read  it  rightly. 

Old  Play. 

*'  Your  honor  must  be  informed,  gentle  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence,  that  I  have  heard  this  story  told  at  a  great  distance 
from  the  land  in  which  it  happened,  by  a  sworn  minstrel, 
the  ancient  friend  and  servant  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  one 
of  the  best,  it  is  said,  who  ever  belonged  to  that  noble 
family.  This  minstrel,  Hugo  Hugonet  by  name  attended 
his  young  master  when  on  this  fierce  exploit,  as  was  his 
wont. 

"  The  castle  was  in  total  tumult  ;  in  one  corner  the  war- 
men  were  busy  breaking  up  and  destroying  provisions  ;  in 
another,  they  were  slaying  men,  horses,  and  cattle,  and 
these  actions  were  accompanied  with  appropriate  sounds. 
The  cattle,  particularly,  had  become  sensible  of  their  im- 
pending fate,  and  with  awkward  resistance  and  piteous  cries 
testified  that  reluctance  with  which  these  poor  creatures  look 
instinctively  on  the  shambles.  The  groans  and  screams  of 
men  undergoing,  or  about  to  undergo,  the  stroke  of  death, 
and  the  screeches  of  the  poor  horses  which  were  in  mortal 
agony,  formed  a  fearful  chorus,  Hugonet  was  desirous  to 
remove  himself  from  such  unpleasant  sights  and  sounds  ; 
but  his  master,  the  Douglas,  had  been  a  man  of  some  reading, 
and  his  old  servant  was  anxious  to  secure  a  book  of  poetry, 
to  which  he  had  been  attached  of  old.  This  contained  the 
lays  of  an  ancient  Scottish  bard,  who,  if  an  ordinary  human 
creature  while  he  was"  in  this  life  cannot  now  perhaps  be 
exactly  termed  such. 

"  He  was,  in  short,  that  Thomas,  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  the  Ehymer,  and  whose  intimacy,  it  is  said,  became 
60  great  with  the  gifted  people  called  the  faery  folk  that  he 
corSd,  like  them,  foretell  the  future  deed  before  it  came  to 
pass,  and  united  in  his  own  person  the  quality  of  bard  and  of 
soothsayer.  But  of  late  years  he  had  vanished  almost  entirely 
from  this  mortal  scene  ;  and  although  the  time  and  manner 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  361 

of  his  death  were  never  publicly  known,  yet  the  general 
belief  was,  that  he  was  not  severed  from  the  land  of  the 
living,  but  removed  to  the  land  of  faery,  from  whence  he 
sometimes  made  excursions,  and  concerned  himself  only 
about  matters  which  were  to  corae  hereafter.  Hugonet  was 
the  more  earnest  to  prevent  the  loss  of  the  works  of  this 
ancient  bard,  as  many  of  his  poems  and  predictions  were 
said  to  be  preserved  in  the  castle,  and  were  supposed  to 
contain  much  especially  connected  with  the  old  house  of 
Douglas,  as  well  as  other  families  of  ancient  descent,  who  had 
been  subjects  of  this  old  man's  prophecy ;  and  accordingly 
he  determined  to  save  this  volume  from  destruction  in  the 
general  conflagration  to  which  the  building  was  about  to  be 
consigned  by  the  heir  of  its  ancient  ijroprietors.  With  this 
view  he  hurried  up  into  the  little  old  vaulted  room  called 
"  the  Douglas's  study,"  in  which  there  might  be  some  dozen 
old  books  written  by  the  ancient  chaplains,  in  what  the 
minstrels  call  the  letter  black.  He  immediately  discovered 
the  celebrated  lay,  called  Sir  Tristreni,*  which  has  been  so 
often  altered  and  abridged  as  to  bear  little  resemblance  to 
the  original.  Hugonet,  who  well  knew  the  value  in  which 
this  poem  was  held  by  the  ancient  lords  of  the  castle,  took 
the  parchment  volume  from  the  shelves  of  the  library,  and 
laid  it  upon  a  small  desk  adjacent  to  the  baron's  chair. 
Having  made  such  preparation  for  putting  it  in  safety,  he 
fell  into  a  brief  reverie,  in  which  the  decay  of  light,  and  the 
preparations  for  the  Douglas  Larder,  but  especially  the  last 
sight  of  objects  which  had  been  familiar  to  his  eyes,  now  on 
the  eve  of  destruction,  engaged  him  at  that  moment. 

"  The  bard,  therefore,  was  thinking  within  himself  upon 
the  uncommon  mixture  of  the  mystical  scholar  and  warrior 
in  his  old  master,  when,  as  he  bent  his  eyes  upon  the  book 
of  the  ancient  Rhymer,  he  was  astonished  to  observe  it  slowly 
removed  from  the  desk  on  which  it  lay  by  an  invisible  hand. 
The  old  man  looked  with  horror  at  the  spontaneous  motion 
of  the  book  for  the  safety  of  which  he  was  interested,  and 
had  the  courage  to  approach  a  little  nearer  the  table,  in 
order  to  discover  by  what  means  it  had  been  withdrawn. 

''  I  have  said  the  room  was  already  becoming  dark,  so  as 
to  render  it  difficult  to  distinguish  any  person  in  the  chair, 
though  it  now  appeared,  on  closer  examination,  that  a  kind 
of  shadowy  outline  of  a  human  form  was  seated  in  it,  but 
neither  precise  enough  to  convey  its  exact  figure  to  the  mind 
nor  so  detailed  as  to  intimate  distinctly  its  mode  of  action. 
*  See  Note  5. 


362  WA VEBLEY  JS'OVELS 

The  bard  of  Douglas,  therefore,  gazed  upon  the  object  of  his 
fear,  as  if  he  had  looked  upon  something  uot  mortal ;  never- 
theless, as  he  gazed  more  intently,  he  became  more  capable 
of  discovering  the  object  which  offered  itself  to  his  eyes,  and 
they  grew  by  degrees  more  keen  to  penetrate  what  they  wit- 
nessed. A  tall  thin  form,  attired  in,  or  rather  shaded  with,  a 
long  flowing  dusky  robe,  having  a  face  and  physiognomy  so 
wild  and  overgrown  with  hair  as  to  be  hardly  human,  were 
the  only  marked  outlines  of  the  phantom  ;  and,  looking  more 
attentively,  Hugonet  was  still  sensible  of  two  other  forms, 
the  outlines,  it  seemed,  of  a  hart  and  a  hind,  which  appeared 
half  to  shelter  themselves  behind  the  person  and  under  the 
robe  of  this  supernatural  figure." 

"  A  probable  tale,"  said  the  knight,  "  for  you,  sir  minstrel, 
a  man  of  sense  as  you  seem  to  be,  to  recite  so  gravely  !  From 
what  wise  authority  have  you  had  this  tale,  which,  though  it 
might  pass  well  enough  amid  clanging  beakers,  must  be  held 
quite  apocryjjhal  in  the  sober  hours  of  the  morning  ?  " 

"  By  my  minstrel  word,  sir  knight,"  answered  Bertram, 
*'  I  am  no  propagator  of  the  fable,  if  it  be  one  ;  Hugonet, 
the  violer,  when  he  had  retired  into  a  cloister  near  the  Lake 
of  Pembelmere  in  Wales,  communicated  the  story  to  me  as  1 
now  tell  it.  Therefore,  as  it  was  upon  the  authority  of  an 
eyewitness,  I  apologize  not  for  relating  it  to  you,  since  I  could 
hardly  discover  a  more  direct  source  of  knowledge." 

"  Be  it  so,  sir  minstrel,"  said  the  knight;  "tell  on  thy 
tale,  and  may  thy  legend  escape  criticism  from  others  as  well 
as  from  me."' 

"  Hugonet,  sir  knight,"  answered  Bertram,  ''was  a  holy 
man,  and  maintained  a  fair  character  during  his  whole  life, 
notwithstanding  his  trade  may  be  esteemed  a  light  one.  The 
vision  spoke  to  him  in  an  antique  language,  like  that  for- 
merly used  in  the  kingdom  of  Strathclyde,  being  a  species  of 
Scots  or  Gaelic,  which  few  would  have  comprehended. 

"  '  You  are  a  learned  man,"  said  the  apparition,  'and  not 
unacquainted  with  the  dialects  used  in  your  country  formerly, 
although  they  are  now  out  of  date,  and  you  are  obliged  to 
translate  them  into  the  vulgar  Saxon  of  Deira  or  Northum- 
berland ;  but  highly  must  an  ancient  British  bard  jirize  one 
in  this  '  remote  term  of  time"  who  sets  upon  the  poetry  of 
his  native  country  a  value  which  invites  him  to  think  of  its 
preservation  at  a  moment  of  such  terror  as  influences  the 
present  evening." 

"'It  is,  indeed,"  said  Hugonet,  'a  night  of  terror,  that 
calls  even  the  dead  from  the  grave,  and  makes  them  the 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  363 

ghastly  and  fearful  companions  of  the  living.  Who  or  what 
art  thou,  in  God's  name,  who  breakest  the  bounds  which 
divide  them,  and  revisitest  thus  strangely  the  state  thou  hast 
so  long  bid  adieu  to  ?" 

"  '  I  am,'  replied  the  vision,  '  that  celebrated  Thomas 
the  Ehymer,  by  some  called  Thomas  of  Ercildoun,  or 
Thomas  the  True  Speaker.  Like  other  sages,  I  am  permitted 
at  times  to  revisit  the  scenes  of  my  former  life,  nor  am  I  in- 
capable of  removing  the  shadowy  clouds  and  darkness  which 
overhang  futurity ;  and  know,  thou  afflicted  man,  that 
what  thou  now  se.est  in  this  woeful  country  is  not  a  general 
emblem  of  what  shall  therein  befall  hereafter ;  but  in  pro- 
portion as  the  Douglasses  are  now  suffering  the  loss  and  de- 
struction of  their  home  for  their  loyalty  to  the  rightful  heir 
of  the  Scottish  Kingdom,  so  hath  Heaven  appointed  for  them 
a  just  reward  ;  and  as  they  have  not  spared  to  burn  and  de- 
stroy their  own  house  and  that  of  their  fathers  in  the  Bruce's 
cause,  so  is  it  the  doom  of  Heaven  that,  as  often  as  the  walls 
of  Douglas  Castle  shall  be  burned  to  the  ground,  they  shall 
be  again  rebuilt  still  more  safely  and  more  magnificent  than 
before." 

"A  cry  was  now  heard  like  that  of  a  multitude  in  the 
courtyard,  joining  in  a  fierce  shout  of  exultation  ;  at  the 
same  time  a  broad  and  ruddy  glow  seemed  to  burst  from  the 
beams  and  rafters,  and  sparks  flew  from  them  as  from  the 
smith's  stithy,  while  the  element  caught  to  its  fuel,  and  the 
conflagration  broke  its  way  through  every  aperture. 

"'See  ye  that  ?'  said  the  vision,  casting  his  eye  towards 
the  windows,  and  disappearing.  '  Begone  !  The  fated  hour 
of  removing  this  book  is  not  yet  come,  7ior  art  thine  the 
destined  hands.  But  it  will  be  safe  wliere  I  have  placed  it, 
and  the  time  of  its  removal  shall  come.'  The  voice  was  heard 
after  the  form  had  vanished,  and  the  brain  of  Hugonet 
almost  turned  round  at  the  wild  scene  which  he  beheld  ; 
his  utmost  exertion  was  scarely  sufficient  to  wathdraw^  him 
from  the  terrible  spot ;  and  Douglas  Castle  that  night  sunk 
into  ashes  and  smoke,  to  arise,  in  no  great  length  of  time, 
in  a  form  stronger  than  ever."  The  minstrel  stopped,  and  his 
hearer,  the  English  knight,  remained  silent  for  some  minutes 
ere  at  length  he  replied, 

*' It  is  true,  minstrel, '"  answered  Sir  Aymer,  "that  your 
tale  is  so  far  undeniable,  that  this  castle,  three  times  burned 
down  by  the  heirs  of  the  house  and  of  the  barony,  has  hither- 
to been  as  often  reared  again  by  Henry  Lord  Clifford  and 
other  generals  of  the  English,  who  endeavored  on  every  oc- 


3f)4  IVAVEBLEY  NOVJSLS 

casiou  to  build  it  up  more  artificially  and  more  strongly  than 
it  had  formerly  existed,  since  it  occupies  a  position  too  im- 
portant to  the  safety  of  our  Scottish  border  to  permit  our 
yielding  it  up.  This  I  myself  have  partly  witnessed.  But 
I  cannot  think  that,  because  the  castle  has  been  so  destroyed, 
it  is  therefore  decreed  so  to  be  repaired  in  future,  consider- 
ing that  such  cruelties  as  surely  cannot  meet  the  approbation 
of  Heaven  have  attended  the  feasts  of  the  Douglasses.  But 
I  see  thou  art  determined  to  keep  thine  own  faith,  nor  can  I 
blame  thee,  since  the  wonderful  turns  of  faith  which  have 
attended  this  fortress  are  sufficient  to  wjirrant  any  one  to 
watch  for  what  seem  the  peculiar  indications  of  the  will  of 
Heaven  ;  but  thou  mayst  believe,  good  minstrel,  that  the 
fault  shall  not  be  mine  if  the  young  Douglas  shall  have  op- 
portunity to  exercise  his  cookery  upon  a  second  edition  of 
his  family  larder,  or  to  profit  by  the  predictions  of  Thomas 
the  Rhymer." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  due  circumspection  upon  your  own  part 
and  Sir  John  de  Walton's,"  said  Bertram  ;  "  but  there  is  no 
crime  in  my  saying  that  Heaven  can  accomplish  its  own  pur- 
poses. I  look  upon  Douglas  Castle  as  in  some  degree  a  fated 
place,  and  I  long  to  see  what  changes  time  may  have  made 
in  it  during  the  currency  of  twenty  years.  Above  all,  I 
desire  to  secure,  if  possible,  the  volume  of  this  Thomas  of 
Erchildoun,  having  in  it  such  a  fund  of  forgotten  minstrelsy, 
and  of  prophecies  respecting  the  future  fates  of  the  British 
kingdom,  both  northern  and  southern." 

The  knight  made  no  answer,  but  rode  a  little  space  forward, 
keeping  the  upper  part  of  the  ridge  of  the  water,  by  which 
the  road  down  the  vale  seemed  to  be  rather  sharply  con- 
ducted. It  at  length  attained  the  summit  of  an  acclivity  of 
considerable  length.  From  this  point,  and  behind  a  con- 
spicuous rock,  which  appeared  to  have  been  pushed  aside,  as  it 
were,  like  the  scene  of  a  theater,  to  admit  a  view  of  the 
under  part  of  tlie  valley,  the  travelers  beheld  the  extensive 
vale,  parts  of  which  have  been  already  shown  in  detail,  but 
which,  as  the  river  became  narrower,  was  now  entirely  laid 
bare  m  its  height  and  depth  as  far  as  it  extended,  and  dis- 
played in  its  precincts,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  course  of 
the  stream,  the  towering  and  lordly  castle  to  which  it  gave 
the  name.  The  mist,  which  continued  to  encumber  the 
valley  with  its  fleecy  cloud,  showed  imperfectly  the  rude 
fortifications  which  served  to  defend  the  small  town  of 
Douglas,  which  was  strong  enough  to  repel  a  desultory 
attack,  but  not  to  withstand  what  was  called  in  those  days 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  365 

a  formal  siege.  The  most  striking  feature  was  its  church, 
an  ancient  Gothic  pile  raised  on  an  eminence  in  the  center 
of  the  town,  and  even  then  extremely  ruinous.  To  tlie  left, 
and  lying  in  the  distance,  might  be  seen  other  towers  and 
battlements  ;  and,  divided  from  the  town  by  a  piece  of 
artificial  water,  which  extended  almost  around  it,  arose  the 
Dangerous  Castle  of  Douglas, 

Sternly  was  it  fortified,  after  the  fashion  of  the  middle 
ageSjWith  donjon  and  battlements  ;  displaying,  above  others, 
the  tall  tower,  which  bore  the  name  of  Lord  Henry's  or  the 
Clifford's  Tower. 

"  Yonder  is  the  castle,"  said  Aymer  de  Valence,  extending 
his  arm,  with  a  smile  of  triumph  upon  his  brow;  "thou 
mayst  judge  thyself  whether  the  defenses  added  to  it  under 
the  Clifford  are  likely  to  render  its  next  capture  a  more  easy 
deed  than  the  last." 

The  minstrel  barely  shook  his  head,  and  quoted  from  the 
Psalmist — "  Msi  Dominus  custodiet."  Nor  did  he  prose- 
cute the  discourse,  though  De  Valence  answered  eagerly, 
"  My  own  edition  of  the  text  is  not  very  different  from  thine  ; 
but,  methinks,  thou  art  more  spiritually-minded  than  can 
always  be  predicated  of  a  wandering  minstrel." 

"God  knows,"  said  Bertram,  "that  if  I,  or  such  as  I,  are 
forgetful  of  the  finger  of  Providence  in  accomplishing  its 
purposes  in  this  lower  world,  we  have  heavier  blame  than 
that  of  other  people,  since  we  are  perpetually  called  upon, 
in  the  exercise  of  our  fanciful  profession,  to  admire  the  turns 
of  fate  which  bring  good  out  of  evil,  and  which  render  those 
who  think  only  of"  their  own  passions  and  purposes  the 
executors  of  the  will  of  Heaven." 

"  I  do  submit  to  what  you  say,  sir  minstrel,"  answered  the 
knight,  "  and  it  would  be  unlawful  to  express  any  doubt  of 
the  truths  which  you  speak  so  solemnly,  any  more  than  of 
your  own  belief  in  them.  Let  me  add,  sir,  that  I  think  I 
have  power  enough  in  this  garrison  to  bid  you  welcome,  and 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  I  hope,  will  not  refuse  access  to  hall, 
castle,  or  knight's  bower  to  a  person  of  your  profession,  and 
by  whose  conversation  we  shall  perhaps  profit  somewhat,  i 
cannot,  however,  lead  you  to  expect  such  indulgence  for  your 
son,  considering  the  present  state  of  his  health  ;  but  if  I  pro- 
cure him  the  privilege  to  remain  at  the  convent  of  St.  Bride, 
he  will  be  there  unmolested  and  in  safety,  until  you  have  re- 
newed your  acquaintance  with  Douglas  Dale  and  its  history, 
and  are  disposed  to  set  forward  on  your  journey." 
.      *'l  embrace  your  honor's  proposal  the  more  willingly,*' 


366  WA  VERLE  Y  N  O  VEL  S 

said    the   minstrel,    "that   I   can   recompense    the    father 
abbot." 

''A  main  point  with  holy  men  or  wome:.,"  replied  De  Val- 
ence, "  who,  in  time  of  warfare,  subsist  by  affording  the  visit- 
ors of  their  shrine  the  means  of  maintenance  in  their  clois- 
ters for  a  passing  season." 

The  party  now  approached  the  sentinels  on  guard  at  the 
castle,  who  were  closely  and  thickly  stationed,  and  who  re- 
spectfully admitted  Sir  Aymer  de  Valance,  as  next  in  com- 
mand under  Sir  John  de  Walton.  Fabian— for  so  was  the 
young  squire  named  who  attended  on  De  Valence — mentioned 
it  as  his  master's  pleasure  that  the  minstrel  should  also  be 
admitted. 

An  old  archer,  however,  looked  hard  at  the  minstrel  as  he 
followed  Sir  Aymer.  "  It  is  not  for  us,"  said  he,  "or  any 
of  our  degree,  to  oppose  the  pleasure  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence, 
nephew  to  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  in  such  a"' matter  ;  and  for 
us,  Master  Fabian,  welcome  are  you  to  make  the  gleeman 
your  companion  both  at  bed  and  board,  as  well  as  your  visit- 
ant, a  week  or  two  at  the  Castle  of  Douglas  ;  but  your  wor- 
ship is  well  aw^are  of  the  strict  order  of  watch  laid  upon 
us,  and  if  Solomon  king  of  Israel  were  to  come  here  as  a 
traveling  minstrel,  by  my  faith  I  durst  not  give  him  en- 
trance, unless  I  had  positive  authority  from  Sir  John  de 
Walton." 

"  Do  you  doubt,  sirrah,"  said  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  who 
returned  on  hearing  an  altercation  betwixt  Fabian  and  the 
archer — "do  you  doubt  that  I  have  good  authority  to  enter- 
tain a  guest,  or  do  you  presume  to  contest  it  ?" 

"  Heaven  forbid  !"  said  the  old  man,  "that  I  should  pre- 
sume to  place  my  own  desire  in  opposition  to  your  worship, 
who  has  so  lately  and  so  honorably  acquired  your  spurs  ;  but 
in  this  matter  I  must  think  what  will  be  theVish  of  Sir  John 
de  Walton,  who  is  your  governor,  sir  knight,  as  well  as  mine  : 
and  so  far  I  hold  it  worth  while  to  detain  your  guest  until 
Sir  John  return  from  a  ride  to  the  outposts  of  the  castle  ; 
and  this,  I  conceive,  being  my  duty,  will  be  no  matter  '^f 
offense  to  your  worship." 

"  Methinks,"  said  the  knight,  "it  is  saucy  in  thee  to  sup- 
pose that  my  commands  can  have  anything  in  them  improper, 
or  contradictory  to  those  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  ;  thou  mayst 
trust  to  me  at  least  that  thou  shall  come  to  no  harm.  Keep  this 
man  in  the  guard-room  ;  let  him  not  want  good  cheer,  and 
when  Sir  John  de  Walton  returns,  report  him  as  a  person  ad- 
mitted by  my  invitation,  and  if  anything  more  be  wanted  to 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  367 

make  out  yonr  excuse,  I  shall  not  be  reluctant  in  stating  it 
to  the  governor." 

The  archer  made  a  signal  of  obedience  with  the  joike  which 
he  held  in  his  hand,  and  resumed  the  grave  and  solemn 
manner  of  a  sentinel  upon  his  post.  He  first,  however,  ush- 
ered in  the  minstrel,  and  furnished  him  with  food  and 
liquor,  speaking  at  the  same  time  to  Fabian,  who  remained 
behind.  The  smart  young  stripling  had  become  very  proud 
of  late,  in  consequence  of  obtaining  the  nameof  Sir  Aymer's 
squire,  and  advancing  a  step  in  chivalry,  as  Sir  Aymer  him- 
self had,  somewhat  earlier  than  the  usual  period,  been 
advanced  from  squire  to  knight. 

"  I  tell  thee,  Fabian,"  said  the  old  archer,  whose  gravity, 
sagacity,  and  skill  in  his  vocation,  while  they  gained  him  the 
confidence  of  all  in  the  castle,  subjected  him,  as  he  himself 
said,  occasionally  to  the  ridicule  of  the  young  coxcombs,  and 
at  the  same  time,  we  may-  add,  rendered  him  somewhat  prag- 
matic and  punctilious  towards  those  who  stood  higher  than 
himself  in  birth  and  rank — "I  tell  thee,  Fabian,  thou  wilt 
do  thy  master.  Sir  Aymer,  good  service  if  thou  wilt  give 
him  a  hint  to  suffer  an  old  archer,  man-at-arms,  or  such-like, 
to  give  him  a  fair  and  civil  answer  respecting  that  which  he 
commands  ;  for  undoubtedly  it  is  not  in  the  first  score  of  a 
man's  years  that  he  learns  the  various  proper  forms  of  military 
service  ;  and  Sir  John  de  Walton,  a  most  excellent  com- 
mander no  doubt,  is  one  earnestly  bent  on  prrsuing  the  strict 
line  of  his  duty,  and  will  be  rigorously  severe,  as  well,  be- 
lieve me,  with  thy  master  as  with  a  lesser  person.  Nay,  he 
also  possesses  that  zeal  for  his  duty  which  induces  him  to 
throw  blame,  if  there  be  the  slightest  ground  for  it,  upon 
Aymer  de  Valence  himself,  although  his  uncle,  the  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  was  Sir  John  de  Walton's  steady  patron,  and  laid 
the  beginning  of  his  good  fortune  ;  for  all  which,  by  train- 
ing up  his  nephew  in  the  true  discipline  of  the  French  wars. 
Sir  John  has  taken  the  best  way  of  showing  himself  grateful 
to  the  old  earl." 

*'  Be  it  as  you  will,  old  Gilbert  Greenleaf,"  answered  Fabian, 
"thou  knowest  I  never  quarrel  with  thy  sermonizing,  and 
therefore  give  me  credit  for  submitting  to  many  a  lecture 
from  Sir  John  de  Walton  and  thyself  ;  but  thou  drivest  this 
a  little  too  far,  if  thou  canst  not  let  a  day  pass  without  giving 
me  a  flogging.  Credit  me.  Sir  John  de  Walton  will  not 
thank  thee  if  thou  term  him  one  too  old  to  remember  that 
he  himself  had  once  some  green  sap  in  his  veins.  Ay,  thus 
it  is,  the  old  man  will  not  forget  that  he  has  once  been 


368  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

young,  nor  the  young  that  he  must  some  day  be  old  ;  and  so 
the  one  changes  his  nianners  into  tlie  lingering  formality  of 
advanced  age,  and  the  other  remain  like  a  midsummer  tor- 
rent swollen  with  rain,  every  drop  of  water  in  it  noise,  froth, 
and  overflow.  There  is  a  maxim  for  thee,  Gilbert  !  Heardest 
thou  ever  better  ?  Hang  it  up  amidst  thy  axioms  of  wisdom, 
and  see  if  it  will  not  pass  among  them  like  fifteen  to  the 
dozen.  It  will  serve  to  bring  thee  off,  man,  when  the  wine- 
pot — thine  only  fanlt,  good  Gilbert — hath  brought  thee  on 
occasion  into  something  of  a  scrape.'' 

"  Best  keep  it  for  thyself,  good  sir  squire,"  said  the  old 
man ;  "  methinks  it  is  more  like  to  stand  thyself  one  day  in 
good  stead.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  knight  or  of  the  wood  of 
which  a  knight  is  made,  and  that  is  a  squire,  being  punished 
corporally  like  a  poor  old  archer  or  horseboy  ?  Your  worst 
fault  will  be  mended  by  some  of  these  witty  sayings,  and 
your  best  service  will  scarce  be  rcAvarded  more  thankfully 
than  by  giving  thee  the  name  of  Fabian  the  Fabler,  or 
some  such  witty  title." 

Having  unloosed  his  repartee  to  this  extent,  old  Greenleaf 
resumed  a  certain  acidity  of  countenance,  which  may  be  said 
to  characterize  those  whose  preferment  hath  become  frozen 
under  the  influence  of  the  slowness  of  its  progress,  and  who 
display  a  general  spleen  against  such  as  have  obtained  the 
advancement  for  which  all  are  struggling  earlier,  and,  as 
they  suppose,  with  less  merit  than  their  own.  From  time  to 
time  the  eye  of  tlie  old  sentinel  stole  from  the  top  of  his  pike, 
and  with  an  air  of  triumph  rested  upon  the  young  man  Fabian, 
as  if  to  see  how  deeply  the  wound  had  galled  him,  while  at 
the  same  time  he  held  himself  on  the  alert  to  perform  what- 
ever mechanical  duty  his  post  might  require.  Botli  Fabian 
and  his  master  were  at  the  hapjoy  period  of  life  when  such 
discontent  as  that  of  the  grave  archer  affected  them  lightly, 
and,  at  the  very  worst,  was  considered  as  the  jest  of  an  old 
man  and  a  good  soldier  ;  the  moreespecially  as  he  was  always 
willing  to  do  the  duty  of  his  companions,  and  was  much 
trusted  by  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who,  though  very  much 
younger,  had  been  bred  up  like  Greenleaf  in  the  wars  of 
Edward  the  First,  and  was  tenacious  in  upholding  strict  dis- 
cipline, which,  since  the  death  of  that  great  monarch,  had 
been  considerably  neglected  by  the  young  and  warm-blooded 
valor  of  England. 

Meantime  it  occurred  to  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  that, 
though,  in  displaying  the  usual  degree  of  hospitality  shown 
to  such  a  man  as  Bertram,  he  had  merely  done  what  was 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  369 

becoming  his  own  rank,  as  one  possessed  of  the  highest 
honors  of  chivalry,  the  self-styled  minstrel  might  not  in 
reality  be  a  man  of  that  worth  which  he  assumed.  There 
was  certainly  something  in  his  conversation,  at  least  more 
grave,  if  not  more  austere,  than  was  common  to  those  of  his 
calling  ;  and  when  he  recollected  many  points  of  Sir  John 
de  Walton's  minuteness,  a  doubt  arose  in  his  mind  that  the 
governor  might  not  approve  of  his  having  introduced  into 
the  castle  a  person  of  Bertram's  character,  who  was  capable 
of  making  observations  from  which  the  garrison  might  after- 
wards feel  much  danger  and  inconvenience.  Secretly,  there- 
fore, he  regretted  that  he  had  not  fairly  intimated  to  the 
wandering  minstrel  that  his  reception,  or  that  of  any  stran- 
ger, within  the  Dangerous  Castle  was  not  at  present  per- 
mitted by  the  circumstances  of  the  times.  In  this  case,  the 
express  line  of  his  duty  would  have  been  his  vindication,  and 
instead,  perhaps,  of  discountenance  and  blame,  he  would 
have  had  praise  and  honor  from  his  superior. 

With  these  thoughts  23assing  through  his  mind,  some  tacit 
apprehension  arose  of  a  rebuke  on  the  part  of  his  command- 
ing-officer, for  this  officer,  notwithstanding  his  strictness. 
Sir  Aymer  loved  as  well  as  feared.  He  went,  therefore, 
towards  the  guard-room  of  the  castle,  under  the  pretense  of 
seeing  that  the  rites  of  hospitality  had  been  duly  observed 
towards  his  late  traveling  companion.  The  minstrel  arose 
respectfully,  and  from  the  manner  in  which  he  paid  his  com- 
pliments seemed,  if  he  had  not  expected  this  call  of  inquiry, 
at  least  to  be  in  no  degree  surprised  at  it.  Sir  Aymer,  on 
the  other  hand,  assumed  an  air  something  more  distant  than 
he  had  yet  used  towards  Bertram,  and  in  reverting  to  his 
former  invitation,  he  now  so  far  qualified  it  as  to  say,  that 
the  minstrel  knew  that  he  was  only  second  in  command,  and 
that  effectual  permission  to  enter  the  castle  ought  to  be  sanc- 
tioned by  Sir  John  de  Walton. 

There  is  a  civil  way  of  seeming  to  believe  any  apology 
which  people  are  disposed  to  receive  in  payment,  without 
alleging  suspicion  of  its  currency.  The  minstrel,  therefore, 
tendered  his  thanks  for  the  civility  which  had  so  far  been 
shown  to  him.  "It  was  a  mere  wish  of  passing  curiosity," 
he  said,  "which,  if  not  granted,  could  be  attended  with  no 
consequences  either  inconvenient  or  disagreeable  to  him. 
Thomas  of  Ercildoun  was,  according  to  the  Welsh  triads, 
one  of  the  three  bards  of  Britain  who  never  stained  a  spear 
with  blood,  or  was  guilty  either  of  taking  or  retaking  castles 
and  fortresses,  and  thus  far  not  a  person  likely,  after  death, 
24 


370  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  be  suspected  of  such  warlike  feats.  But  I  can  easil}''  con- 
ceive why  Sir  John  de  Walton  should  have  allowed  the 
usual  rites  of  hospitality  to  fall  into  disuse,  and  why  a  man 
of  public  character  like  myself  ought  not  to  desire  food  or 
lodging  where  it  is  accounted  so  dangerous  ;  and  it  can  sur- 
prise no  one  why  the  governor  did  not  even  invest  his  worthy 
young  lieutenant  with  the  power  of  dispensing  with  so  strict 
and  unusual  a  rule/' 

These  words,  very  coolly  spoken,  had  something  of  the 
effect  of  affronting  the  young  knight,  as  insinuating  that  he 
was  not  held  sufficiently  trustworthy  by  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
with  whom  he  had  lived  on  terms  of  affection  and  familiar- 
ity, though  the  governor  had  attained  his  thirtieth  year  and 
upwards,  and  his  lieutenant  did  not  yet  write  himself  one- 
and-twenty,  the  lull  age  of  chivalry  having  been  in  his  case 
particularly  dispensed  with,  owing  to  a  feat  of  early  man- 
hood. Ere  he  had  fully  composed  the  angry  thoughts  which 
were  chafing  in  his  mind,  the  sound  of  a  hunting-bugle  was 
heard  at  the  gate,  and  from  the  sort  of  general  stir  which  it 
spread  through  the  garrison,  it  was  plain  that  the  governor 
had  returned  from  his  ride.  Every  sentinel,  seemingly  ani- 
mated by  his  presence,  shouldered  his  pike  more  uprightly, 
gave  the  word  of  the  post  more  sharply,  and  seemed  more 
fully  awake  and  conscious  of  his  duty.  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
having  alighted  from  his  horse,  asked  Greenleaf  what  had 
passed  during  his  absence  ;  the  old  archer  "  thought  it  his 
duty  to  say  that  a  minstrel,  who  seemed  like  a  Scotchman, 
or  wandering  Borderer,  had  been  admitted  into  the  castle, 
while  his  son,  a  lad  sick  of  the  pestilence  so  much  talked  of, 
had  been  left  for  a  time  at  the  abbey  of  St.  Bride."  This 
he  said  on  Fabian's  information.  The  archer  added,  that 
"  the  father  was  a  man  of  tale  and  song,  who  could  keep  the 
whole  garrison  amused,  without  giving  them  leave  to  attend 
to  their  own  business." 

"  We  want  no  such  devices  to  pass  the  time,"  answered 
the  governor  ;  '-  and  we  would  have  been  better  satisfied  if 
our  lieutenant  had  been  pleased  to  find  us  other  guests,  and 
fitter  for  a  direct  and  frank  communication,  than  one  who, 
by  his  profession,  is  a  detractor  of  God  and  a  deceiver  of 
man." 

"  Yet,"  said  the  old  soldier,  who  could  hardly  listen  even 
to  his  commander  without  indulging  the  humor  of  contra- 
diction, "I  have  heard  your  honor  intimate  that  the  trade 
of  a  minstrel,  when  it  is  justly  acted  up  to,  is  as  worthy  as 
even  the  degree  of  knighthood  itself." 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  371 

'*  Such  it  may  have  been  in  former  days  answered  the 
knight;  ''but  in  modern  minstrelsy  the  duty  of  rendering 
the  art  an  incentive  to  virtue  is  forgotten,  and  it  is  well  if 
the  poetry  which  fired  our  fathers  to  noble  deeds  does  not 
now  push  on  their  children  to  such  as  are  base  and  unworthy. 
But  I  will  speak  upon  this  to  my  friend  Aymer,  than  whom 
I  do  not  know  a  more  excellent  or  a  more  high-spirited 
young  man." 

"While  discoursing  with  the  archer  in  this  manner.  Sir 
John  de  Walton,  of  a  tall  and  handsome  figure,  advanced 
and  stood  within  the  ample  arch  of  the  guard-room  chimney, 
and  was  listened  to  in  reverential  silence  by  trusty  Gilbert, 
who  filled  up  with  nods  and  signs,  as  an  attentive  auditor, 
the  pauses  in  the  conversation. 

The  conduct  of  another  hearer  of  what  passed  was  not 
equally  respectful,  but,  from  his  position,  he  escaped  ob- 
servation. This  third  person  was  no  other  than  the  squire 
Fabian,  who  was  concealed  from  observation  by  his  position 
behind  the  hob,  or  projecting  portion  of  the  old-fashioned 
fireplace,  and  hid  himself  yet  more  carefully  when  he  heard 
the  conversation  between  the  governor  and  the  archer  turn 
to  the  prejudice,  as  he  thought,  of  his  master.  The  squire's 
employment  at  this  time  was  the  servile  task  of  cleaning  Sir 
Aymer's  arms,  which  was  conveniently  performed  by  heating, 
upon  the  projection  already  specified,  the  pieces  of  steel 
armor  for  the  usual  thin  coating  of  varnish.  He  could  not, 
therefore,  if  he  should  be  discovered,  be  considered  as  guilty 
of  anything  insolent  or  disrespectful.  He  was  better  screened 
from  view,  as  a  thick  smoke  arose  from  a  quantity  of  oak 
panelling,  carved  in  many  cases  with  the  crest  and  achieve- 
ments of  the  Douglas  family,  which,  being  the  fuel  nearest 
at  hand,  lay  smoldering  in  the  chimney,  and  gathering  to 
a  blaze. 

The  governor,  unconscious  of  this  addition  to  his  audience, 
pursued  his  conversation  with  Gilbert  Greenleaf.  "I  need 
not  tell  you,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  interested  in  the  speedy 
termination  of  this  siege  or  blockade  with  which  Douglas 
continues  to  threaten  us  ;  my  own  honor  and  affections  are 
engaged  in  keeping  this  Dangerous  Castle  safe  in  England's 
behalf,  but  I  am  troubled  at  the  admission  of  this  stranger  ; 
and  young  De  Valence  would  have  acted  more  strictly  in  the 
line  of  his  duty  if  he  had  refused  to  this  Avanderer  any  com- 
munication with  this  garrison  without  any  permission." 

"Pity  it  is,"  replied  old  Greenleaf,  shaking  his  head, 
"  that  this  good-natured  and  gallant  young  knight  is  some- 


872  WA  VERLE Y  NO VELS 

what  drawn  aside  by  the  rash  advices  of  his  squire,  the  boj 
Fabian,  who  has  bravery,  but  as  little  steadiness  in  him  as  a 
bottle  of  fermented  small  beer." 

"  Now  hang  thee,"  thought  Fabian  to  himself,  "for  an 
old  relic  of  the  wars,  stulfed  full  of  conceit  and  warlike 
terms,  like  the  soldier  who,  to  keep  himself  from  the  cold, 
has  lapped  himself  so  close  in  a  tattered  ensign  for  a  shelter, 
that  his  very  outside  may  show  nothing  but  rags  and 
blazonry." 

"  I  would  not  think  twice  of  the  matter,  were  the  party 
less  dear  to  me,"  said  Sir  John  de  Walton.  "  But  I  would 
fain  be  of  use  to  this  young  man,  even  although  I  should 
purchase  his  improvement  in  military  knowledge  at  the  ex- 
pense of  giving  him  a  little  pain.  Experience  should,  as  it 
v/ere,  be  burnt  in  upon  the  mind  of  a  young  man,  and  not 
merely  impressed  by  marking  the  lines  of  his  chart  out  for 
him  with  chalk  ;  I  will  remember  the  hint  yon,  Greenleaf, 
have  given,  and  take  an  opportunity  of  severing  these  two 
young  men  ;  and  though  I  most  dearly  love  the  one,  and  am 
far  from  wishing  ill  to  the  other,  yet  at  present,  as  you  well 
hint,  the  blind  is  leading  the  blind,  and  the  young  knight 
has  for  his  assistant  and  counselor  too  young  a  squire,  and 
that  must  be  amended," 

"  Marry,  out  upon  thee,  old  palmer-worm  !"  said  the  page 
within  himself;  'Miave  I  found  thee'  in  the  very  fact  of 
maligning  myself  and  my  master,  as  it  is  thy  nature  to  do 
towards  all  the  hopeful  young  buds  of  chivalry  ?  If  it  were 
not  to  dirty  the  arms  of  an  Sieve  of  chivalry,  by  measuring 
them  with  one  of  thy  rank,  I  might  honor  thee  with  a 
knightly  invitation  to  the  field,  Avhilethe  scandal  which  thou 
hast  spoken  is  still  foul  upon  thy  tongue  ;  as  it  is,  thou  shalt 
not  carry  one  kind  of  language  publicly  in  the  castle,  and 
another  before  the  governor,  upon  the  footing  of  having 
served  with  him  under  the  banner  of  Long-shanks.  I  will 
carry  to  my  master  tliis  tale  of  thine  evil  intentions  ;  and 
when  we  have  concerted  together,  it  shall  appear  whether  the 
youthful  spirits  of  the  garrison  or  the  gray  beards  are  most 
likely  to  be  the  hope  and  protection  of  this  same  Castle  of 
Douglas." 

It  is  enough  to  say  that  Fabian  pursued  his  purpose,  in 
carrying  to  his  master,  and  in  no  very  good  humor,  there- 
port  of  what  had  passed  between  Sir  John  de  Walton  and  the 
old  soldier.  He  succeeded  in  representing  the  whole  as  a 
formal  offense  intended  to  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  ;  while  all 
that  the  governor  did  to  remove  the  suspicions  entertained 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  373 

by  the  young  kniglit  could  not  in  any  respect  bring  him  to 
take  a  kindly  view  of  the  feelings  of  his  commander  towards 
him.  He  retained  the  impression  which  he  had  formed  from 
Fabian's  recital  of  what  he  had  heard,  and  did  not  think  he 
was  doing  Sir  John  de  Walton  any  injustice  in  supposing 
him  desirous  to  engross  the  greatest  share  of  the  fame  ac- 
quired in  the  defense  of  the  castle,  and  thrusting  back  his 
companions,  who  might  reasonably  pretend  to  a  fair  portion 
of  it. 

The  mother  of  mischief,  says  a  Scottish  proverb,  is  no 
bigger  than  a  midge's  wing.*  In  this  matter  of  quarrel 
neither  the  young  man  nor  the  old  knight  had  afforded  each 
other  any  Just  cause  of  offense.  De  Walton  was  a  strict 
observer  of  military  discipline,  in  which  he  had  been  educated 
from  his  extreme  youth,  and  by  which  he  was  almost  as  com- 
pletely ruled  as  by  his  natural  disposition  ;  and  his  present 
situation  added  force  to  his  original  education. 

Common  report  had  even  exaggerated  the  military  skill, 
the  love  of  adventure,  and  the  great  variety  of  enterprise  as- 
cribed to  James,  the  young  Lord  of  Douglas.  He  had,  in  the 
eyes  of  this  Southern  garrison,  the  faculties  of  a  fiend,  rather 
than  those  of  a  mere  mortal ;  for  if  the  English  soldiers 
cursed  the  tedium  of  the  perpetual  watch  and  ward  upon 
the  Dangerous  Castle,  which  admitted  of  no  relaxation  from 
the  severity  of  extreme  duty,  they  agreed  that  a  tall  form 
was  sure  to  appear  to  them  with  a  battle-ax  in  his  hand,  and, 
entering  into  conversation  in  the  most  insinuating  manner, 
never  failed,  with  an  ingenuity  and  eloquence  equal  to  that 
of  a  fallen  spirit,  to  recommend  to  the  discontented  sentinel 
some  mode  in  which,  by  giving  his  assistance  to  betray  the 
English,  he  might  set  himself  at  liberty.  The  variety  of 
tliese  devices,  and  the  frequency  of  their  recurrence,  kept 
Sir  John  de  Walton's  anxiety  so  perpetually  upon  the  stretch, 
that  he  at  no  time  thought  himself  exactly  out  of  the  Black 
Douglas's  reach  any  more  than  the  good  Christian  sujDposes 
himself  out  of  the  reach  of  the  wiles  of  the  Devil  ;  while 
every  new  temptation,  instead  of  confirming  his  hope,  seems 
to  announce  that  the  immediate  retreat  of  the  Evil  One  will 
be  followed  by  some  new  attack  yet  more  cunningly  devised. 
Under  this  general  state  of  anxiety  and  apprehension,  the 
temper  of  the  governor  changed  somewhat  for  the  worse, 
and  they  who  loved  him  best  regretted  most  that  he  became 
addicted  to  complain  of  the  want  of  diligence  on  the  part  o^ 
those  who,  neither  invested  with  responsibility  like  lais  nor 
*  i.  e.  Gnat's  wing. 


374  WA VERL EY  NO VEL& 

animated  by  the  hope  of  such  splendid  rewards,  did  not  en- 
tertain the  same  degree  of  watcliful  and  incessant  suspicion 
as  himself.  The  soldiers  muttered  that  the  vigilance  of  their 
governor  was  marked  with  severity  ;  the  officers  and  men  of 
rank,  of  whom  there  were  several,  as  the  castle  was  a  renowned 
school  of  arms,  and  there  was  a  certain  merit  attained  even 
by  serving  within  its  walls,  complained,  at  the  same  time, 
that  Sir  John  de  Walton  no  longer  made  parties  for  hunting, 
for  hawking,  or  for  any  purpose  which  might  soften  the 
rigors  of  warfare,  and  suffered  nothing  to  go  forward  but  the 
precise  discipline  of  the  castle.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may 
be  usually  granted  that  the  castle  is  well  kept  where  the 
governor  is  a  disciplinarian  ;  and  where  feuds  and  personal 
quarrels  are  found  in  the  garrison,  the  young  men  are  usually 
more  at  fault  than  those  whose  greater  experience  has  con- 
vinced them  of  the  necessity  of  using  the  strictest  precau- 
tions. 

A  generous  mind — and  such  was  Sir  John  de  Walton's — 
is  often  in  this  way  changed  and  corrupted  by  the  habit  of 
over-vigilance,  and  pushed  beyond  its  natural  limits  of  candor. 
Neither  was  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  free  from  a  similar 
change  :  suspicion,  though  from  a  different  cause,  seemed 
also  to  threaten  to  bias  his  open  and  noble  disposition,  in 
those  qualities  which  had  hitherto  been  proper  to  him.  It 
was  in  vain  that  Sir  John  de  Walton  studiously  sought  op- 
portunities to  give  his  younger  friend  indulgences  which  at 
times  were  as  far  extended  as  the  duty  of  tlie  garrison  per- 
mitted. The  blow  was  struck  :  the  alarm  had  been  given  to 
a  proud  and  fiery  temper  on  both  sides  ;  and  while  De  Valence 
entertained  an  opinion  that  he  was  unjustly  suspected  by  a 
friend  who  was  in  several  respects  bound  to  him,  De  Walton, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  led  to  conceive  that  a  young  man  of 
whom  he  took  a  charge  as  affectionate  as  if  he  had  been  a 
son  of  his  own,  and  who  owed  to  his  lessons  what  he  knew  of 
warfare,  and  what  success  he  had  obtained  in  life,  had  taken 
offense  at  trifles,  and  considered  himself  ill-treated  on  very 
inadequate  grounds.  The  seeds  of  disagreement  thus  sown 
between  them  failed  not,  like  the  tares  sown  by  the  Enemy 
among  tlie  wheat,  to  pass  from  one  class  of  the  garrison  to 
another  ;  the  soldiers,  though  without  any  better  reason  than 
merely  to  pass  the  time,  took  different  sides  between  their 
governor  and  his  young  lieutenant ;  and  so  the  ball  of  con- 
tention, being  once  thrown  up  between  them,  never  lacked 
some  arm  or  other  to  keep  it  in  motion. 


I 


CHAPTEE  VI 

Alas  !  they  had  been  friends  in  youth  ; 
But  whispering  tongues  can  poison  truth  • 
And  constancy  lives  in  realms  above, 

And  life  is  thorny,  and  j^outh  is  vain, 
And  to  be  wroth  with  one  we  love, 

Doth  work  like  madness  in  the  brain. 

Each  spoke  words  of  high  disdain. 
And  insvilt  to  his  heart's  dear  brother, 
But  never  either  found  another 
To  free  the  hollow  heart  from  paining ; 
They  stood  aloof,  the  scars  remaining, 

Like  cliffs  which  had  been  rent  asunder. 
A  dreary  sea  now  flows  between. 

But  neither  heat,  nor  frost,  nor  thunder. 
Shall  wlioUy  do  away,  I  ween. 
The  marks  of  that  which  once  hath  been. 

Coleridge,  Christabel. 

In  prosecution  of  the  intention  which,  when  his  blood  was 
cool,  seemed  to  him  wisest,  Sir  John  de  Walton  resolved  that 
he  would  go  to  the  verge  of  indulgence  with  his  lieutenant 
and  his  young  officers,  furnish  them  with  every  species  of 
amusement  which  the  place  rendered  possible,  and  make 
them  ashamed  of  their  discontent  by  overloading  them  with 
courtesy.  The  first  time,  therefore,  that  he  saw  Aymer  de 
Valence  after  his  return  to  the  castle,  he  addressed  him  in 
high  spirits,  whether  real  or  assumed, 

^"  What  thinkest  thou,  my  young  friend,"  said  de  Walton, 
''  if  we  try  some  of  the  woodland  sjjorts  proper,  they  say,  to 
tliis  country  ?  There  are  still  in  our  neighborhood  some 
herds  of  the  Caledonian  breed  of  wild  cattle,*  which  are  no- 
where to  be  found  except  among  the  moorlands,  the  black 
and  rugged  frontier  of  what  was  anciently  called  the  king- 
dom of  Strathclyde.  There  are  some  hunters,  too,  who  have 
been  accustomed  to  the  sport,  and  who  vouch  that  these 
animals  are  by  far  the  most  bold  and  fierce  subjects  of  chase 
i'l  the  island  of  Britain." 

**  You  will  do  as  you  please,"  replied  Sir  Aymer,  coldly  ; 
**  but  it  is  not  I,  Sir  John,  who  would  recommend,  for  th'' 

*  See  Note  6. 
«2^ 


376  H'^ VERLET  NOVELS 

Bake  of  a  hunting-match,  that  you  should  involve  the  whole 
garrison  in  danger  :  you  know  best  the  responsibilities  in- 
curred by  your  office  here,  and  no  doubt  must  have  heedfully 
attended  to  them  before  making  a  proposal  of  such  a  nature/' 

"  I  do  indeed  know  my  own  duty,"  replied  De  Walton, 
offended  in  turn,  ''and  might  be  allowed  to  think  of  yours 
also,  without  assuming  more  than  my  own  share  of  respon- 
sibility ;  but  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  commander  of  this 
Dangerous  Castle,  among  other  inabilities,  were,  as  old 
people  in  this  country  say,  subjected  to  a  spell,  and  one 
which  renders  it  impossible  for  him  to  guide  his  conduct  so 
as  to  afford  pleasure  to  those  whom  he  is  most  desirous  to 
oblige.  Not  a  great  many  weeks  since,  whose  eyes  would 
have  sparkled  like  those  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  at  the  pro- 
posal of  a  general  hunting-match  after  a  new  object  of 
game  ;  and  now  what  is  his  bearing  when  such  sport  is  pro- 
posed— merely,  I  think,  to  disappoint  my  purpose  of  obliging 
him  ?  A  cold  acquiescence  drops  half-frozen  from  his  lips, 
and  he  proposes  to  go  to  rouse  the  wild  cattle  with  an  air  of 
gravity,  as  if  he  were  undertaking  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tomb 
of  a  martyr." 

"Not  so.  Sir  John,"  answered  the  young  knight.  ''In 
our  present  situation  we  stand  conjoined  in  more  charges 
than  one,  and  although  the  greater  and  controlling  trust  is 
no  doubt  laid  upon  you  as  the  elder  and  abler  knight,  yet 
still  1  feel  that  I  myself  have  my  own  share  of  a  serious  re- 
sponsibility. I  trust,  therefore,  you  will  indulgently  hear  my 
opinion,  and  bear  with  it,  even  though  it  should  appear  to 
have  relation  to  that  part  of  our  common  charge  which  is 
more  especially  entrusted  to  your  keeping.  The  dignity  of 
knighthood  which  I  have  the  honor  to  share  with  you,  the 
accolade  laid  on  my  shoulder  by  the  royal  Plantagent,  en- 
titles me,  methinks,  to  so  much  grace." 

"  I  cry  you  mercy,"  said  the  elder  cavalier  ;  "  I  forgot  how 
important  a  person  I  had  before  me,  dubbed  by  King  Ed- 
ward himself,  who  was  moved  no  doubt  by  sj^ecial  reasons  to 
confer  such  an  early  honor  ;  and  I  certainly  feel  that  I  over- 
step my  duty  when  I  propose  anything  that  savors  like  idle 
sport  to  a  person  of  such  grave  pretensions." 

"Sir  John  de  Walton,"  retorted  De  Valence,  "we  have 
had  something  too  much  of  this — let  it  stop  here.  All  that 
I  mean  to  say  is  that,  in  this  wardship  of  Douglas  Castle,  it 
will  not  be  by  my  consent  if  any  amusement  which  distinctly 
infers  a  relaxation  of  discipline  be  unnecessarily  engaged  in, 
and  especially  such  as  compels  us  to  summon  to  our  assistance 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  377 

a  number  of  the  Scots,  whose  evil  disposition  towards  us  we 
well  know  ;  nor  will  I,  though  my  years  have  rendered  me 
liable  to  such  suspicion,  suffer  anything  of  this  kind  to  be 
imputed  to  me  ;  and  if  unfortunately — though  I  am  sure  I 
know  not  why — we  are  in  future  to  lay  aside  those  bonds  of 
familiar  friendship  which  formerly  linked  us  to  each  other, 
yet  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  not  bear  ourselves  in  our 
necessary  communications  like  knights  and  gentlemen,  and 
put  the  best  construction  on  each  other's  motives,  since  there 
can  be  no  reason  for  imputing  the  worst  to  anything  that 
comes  from  either  of  us." 

'*  You  may  be  right.  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,"  said  the 
governor,  bending  stiffly  ;  ' '  and  since  we  say  we  are  no  longer 
bound  to  each  other  as  friends,  you  may  be  certain,  never- 
theless, that  I  will  never  permit  a  hostile  feeling  of  which 
you  are  the  object  to  occupy  my  bosom.  You  have  been  long, 
and  I  hope  not  uselessly,  my  pupil  in  the  duties  of  chivalry. 
You  are  the  near  relation  of  the  Earls  of  Pembroke,  my  kind 
and  constant  patron,  and  if  these  circumstances  are  well 
weighed,  they  form  a  connection  which  it  would  be  difficult, 
at  least  for  me,  to  break  through.  If  you  feel  yourself,  as 
you  seem  to  intimate,  less  strictly  tied  by  former  obligations, 
you  must  take  your  own  choice  in  fixing  our  relations  towards 
each  other." 

"  I  can  only  say,"  replied  De  Valence,  "  that  my  conduct 
will  naturally  be  regulated  by  your  own  ;  and  you.  Sir  John, 
cannot  hope  more  devoutly  than  I  do  that  our  military  duties 
may  be  fairly  discharged  without  interfering  with  our  friendly 
intercourse. "" 

The  knights  here  parted,  after  a  conference  which  once  or 
twice  had  very  nearly  terminated  in  a  full  and  cordial  expla- 
nation ;  but  still  there  was  wanting  one  kind  heartfelt  word 
from  either  to  break,  as  it  were,  the  ice  which  was  fast 
freezing  upon  their  intercourse,  and  neither  chose  to  be  the 
first  in  making  the  necessary  advances  with  sufficient  cordi- 
ality, though  each  would  have  gladly  done  so  had  the  other 
appeared  desirous  of  meeting  it  with  the  same  ardor  ;  but 
their  pride  was  too  high,  and  prevented  either  from  saying 
what  might  at  once  have  put  them  upon  an  open  and  manly 
footing.  They  parted,  therefore,  without  again  returning 
to  the  subject  of  the  proposed  diversion  ;  until  it  was  after- 
wards resumed  in  a  formal  note,  praying  Sir  Aymer  de  Va- 
lence to  accompany  the  commandant  of  Douglas  Castle  upon 
a  solem  hunting-match,  which  had  for  its  object  the  wild 
cattle  of  the  neighboring  dale. 


378  WAVERLEY  N0VEL8 

The  time  of  meeting  was  appointed  at  six  in  the  morning, 
beyond  the  gate  of  the  outer  barricade  ;  and  the  chase  was 
declared  to  be  ended  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  recheat 
should  be  blown  beneath  the  great  oak,  known  by  the  name 
of  Sholto's  Club,  which  stood,  a  remarkable  object,  where 
Douglas  Dale  was  bounded  by  several  scattered  trees,  the 
outskirts  of  the  forest  and  hill  country.  The  usual  warning 
was  sent  out  to  the  common  people,  or  vassals  of  the  district, 
which  they,  notwithstanding  their  feeling  of  antipathy,  re- 
ceived in  general  with  delight,  upon  the  great  epicurean 
principle  of  carpe  diem — that  is  to  say,  in  whatever  circum- 
stances it  happens  to  present  itself,  be  sure  you  lose  no 
recreation  which  life  affords.  A  hunting-match  has  still  its 
attractions,  even  though  an  English  knight  take  his  pleasure 
in  the  woods  of  the  Douglas. 

It  was  no  doubt  afflicting  to  these  faithful  vassals  to  ac- 
knowledge another  lord,  than  the  redoubted  Douglas,  and  to 
wait  by  wood  and  river  at  the  command  of  English  officers, 
and  in  the  company  of  their  archers,  whom  they  accounted 
their  natural  enemies.  Still  it  Avas  the  only  species  of  amuse- 
ment which  had  been  permitted  them  for  a  long  time,  and 
they  were  not  disposed  to  omit  the  rare  opportunity  of  join- 
ing in  it.  The  chase  of  the  wolf,  the  wild  boar,  or  even  the 
timid  stag,  required  sylvan  arms  ;  the  wild  cattle  still  more 
demanded  this  equipment  of  war-bows  and  shafts,  boar-spears 
and  sharp  swords,  and  other  tools  of  the  chase,  similar  to 
those  used  in  actual  war.  Considering  this  the  Scottish  in- 
habitants were  seldom  allowed  to  join  in  the  chase,  except 
under  regulations  as  to  number  and  arms,  and  especially  in 
preserving  a  balance  of  force  on  the  side  of  tlie  English  sol- 
diers, which  was  very  offensive  to  them.  The  greater  part 
of  the  garrison  was  upon  such  occasions  kept  on  foot,  and 
several  detachments,  formed  according  to  the  governor's 
direction,  were  stationed  in  different  positions,  in  case  any 
quarrel  should  suddenly  break  out. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  drivers  through  the  wood  went, 

For  to  raise  the  deer  ; 
Bowmen  bickered  upon  the  bent, 

With  their  broad  arrows  clear. 

The  wylde  through  the  woods  went. 

On  every  side  sliear  ; 
Grehounds  through  the  groves  glent, 

For  to  kill  thir  deer. 

Ballad  of  Clievij  Chase,  Old  Edit, 

The  appointed  morning  came  in  cold  and  raw,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Scottish  March  weather.  Dogs  yelled,  yawned, 
and  shivered,  and  the  huntsmen,  though  hardy  and  cheerful 
in  expectation  of  the  day's  sport,  twitched  tiieir  mauds,  or 
Lowland  plaids,  close  to  their  throats,  and  looked  with  some 
dismay  at  the  mists  which  floated  about  the  horizon,  now 
threatening  to  sink  down  on  the  peaks  and  ridges  of  promi- 
nent mountains,  and  now  to  shift  their  position  under  the 
influence  of  some  of  the  uncertain  gales  which  rose  and  fell 
alternately  as  they  swept  along  the  valley. 

Nevertheless,  the  appearance  of  the  whole  formed,  as  is 
usual  in  almost  all  departments  of  the  chase,  a  gay  and  jovial 
spectacle.  A  brief  truce  seemed  to  have  taken  place  between 
the  nations,  and  the  Scottish  people  appeared  for  the  time 
rather  as  exhibiting  the  sports  of  their  mountains  in  a  friendly 
manner  to  the  accomplished  knights  and  bonny  archers  of  Old 
England  than  as  performing  a  feudal  service,  neither  easy 
nor  dignified  in  itself,  at  the  instigation  of  usurping  neigh- 
bors. The  figures  of  the  cavaliers,  now  half  seen,  new  ex- 
hibited fully,  and  at  the  height  of  stenuous  exertion,  accord- 
ing to  the  character  of  the  dangerous  and  broken  ground, 
particularly  attracted  the  attention  of  the  pedestrians,  who, 
leading  the  dogs  or  beating  the  thickets,  dislodged  such 
objects  of  chase  as  they  found  in  the  dingles,  and  kept  their 
eyes  fixed  upon  their  companions,  rendered  more  remarkable 
from  being  mounted,  and  the  speed  at  which  they  urged 
their  horses  ;  the  disregard  of  all  accidents  being  as  perfect 
as  Melton  Mowbray  itself,  or  any  other  noted  field  of  hunters 
of  the  present  day,  can  exhibit. 


880  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  principles  on  whicli  modern  and  ancient  hunting  were 
conducted  are,  however,  as  different  as  possible,  A  fox,  or 
even  a  hare,  is  in  our  own  day  considered  as  a  sufficient 
apology  for  a  day's  exercise  to  forty  or  fifty  dogs,  and  nearly 
as  many  men  and  horses  ;  but  the  ancient  chase,  even  though 
not  terminating,  as  it  often  did,  in  battle,  carried  with  it 
objects  more  important,  and  an  interest  immeasurably  more 
stirring.  If,  indeed,  one  species  of  exercise  can  be  pointed 
out  as  more  universally  exhilarating  and  engrossing  than 
others,  it  is  certainly  that  of  the  chase.  The  poor  over- 
labored drudge,  who  has  served  out  his  day  of  life,  and 
wearied  all  his  energies,  in  the  service  of  his  fellow-mortals, 
he  who  has  been  for  many  years  the  slave  of  agriculture,  or, 
still  worse,  of  manufactures,  engaged  in  raising  a  single 
peck  of  corn  from  year  to  year,  or  in  the  monotonous  labors 
of  the  desk,  can  hardly  remain  dead  to  the  general  happi- 
ness when  the  chase  sweeps  past  him  Avith  hound  and  horn, 
and  for  a  moment  feels  all  the  exultation  of  the  proudest 
cavalier  who  partakes  the  amusement.  Let  any  one  who 
has  witnessed  the  sight  recall  to  his  imagination  the  vigor 
and  lively  interest  which  he  has  seen  inspired  into  a  village, 
including  the  oldest  and  feeblest  of  its  inhabitants.  In  the 
words  of  Wordsworth,  it  is,  on  such  occasions — 

Up  Timothy,  up  with  your  staff  and  away, 
Not  a  soul  will  remain  in  the  village  to-day  ; 
The  hare  has  just  started  from  Hamilton's  grounds, 
And  Skiddaw  is  glad  with  the  cry  of  the  hounds. 

But  compare  these  inspiring  sounds  to  the  burst  of  a  whole 
feudal  population  enjoying  the  sport,  whose  lives,  instead  of 
being  spent  in  tlie  monotonous  toil  of  modern  avocations, 
have  been  agitated  by  the  hazards  of  war  and  of  the  chase, 
its  near  resemblance,  and  you  must  necessarily  suppose  that 
the  excitation  is  extended  like  a  fire  which  catches  to  dry 
heath.  To  use  the  common  expression,  borrowed  from  an- 
other amusement,  all  is  fish  that  comes  in  the  net  on  such 
occasions.  An  ancient  hunting-match,  the  nature  of  the 
carnage  excepted,  was  almost  equal  to  a  modern  battle,  when 
the  strife  took  place  on  the  surface  of  a  varied  and  unequal 
country.  A  whole  district  poured  forth  its  inhabitants,  who 
formed  a  ring  of  great  extent,  called  technically  a  tinchel. 
and,  advancing  and  narrowing  their  circle  by  degrees,  drove 
before  them  the  alarmed  animals  of  every  kind,  all  and  each 
of  which,  as  they  burst  from  the  thicket  or  the  moorland, 
were  objects  of  the  bow,  the  javelin,  or  whatever  missilo 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  381 

weapons  the  hunters  jjossessed  ;  while  others  were  run  down 
and  worried  by  large  greyhounds,  or  more  frequently  brought 
to  bay,  when  the  more  important  persons  present  claimed 
for  themselves  the  pleasure  of  putting  them  to  death  with 
their  chivalrous  hands,  incurring  individually  such  danger 
as  is  inferred  from  a  mortal  contest  even  with  the  timid  buck, 
when  he  is  brought  to  the  death-struggle,  and  has  no  choice 
but  yielding  his  life  or  putting  himself  upon  the  defensive, 
by  the  aid  of  his  splendid  antlers,  and  with  all  the  courage 
of  despair. 

The  quantity  of  game  found  in  Douglas  Dale  on  this  oc- 
casion was  very  considerable,  for,  as  already  noticed,  it  was 
a  long  time  since  a  hunting  upon  a  great  scale  had  been  at- 
tempted under  the  Douglasses  themselves,  whose  misfor- 
tunes had  commenced,  several  years  before,  with  those  of 
their  country.  The  English  garrison,  too,  had  not  sooner 
judged  themselves  strong  or  numerous  enough  to  exercise 
these  valued  feudal  privileges.  In  the  meantime  the  game 
increased  considerably.  The  deer,  the  wild  cattle,  and  the 
wild  boars  lay  near  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  made 
frequent  irruptions  into  the  lower  part  of  the  valley,  which 
in  Douglas  Dale  bears  no  small  resemblance  to  an  oasis,  sur- 
rounded by  tangled  woods  and  broken  moors,  occasionally 
rocky,  and  showing  large  tracts  of  that  bleak  dominion  to 
which  wild  creatures  gladly  escape  when  pressed  by  the 
neighborhood  of  man. 

As  the  hunters  traversed  the  spots  which  separated  the 
field  from  the  wood,  there  was  always  a  stimulating  uncer- 
tainty what  sort  of  game  was  to  be  fouiid,  and  the  marks- 
man, with  his  bow  ready  bent,  or  his  javelin  poised,  and  his 
good  and  well-bitted  horse  thrown  upon  its  haunches,  ready 
for  a  sudden  start,  observed  watchfully  what  should  rush 
from  the  covert,  so  that,  were  it  deer,  boar,  wolf,  wild  cattle, 
or  any  other  species  of  game,  he  might  be  in  readiness. 

The  wolf,  which,  on  account  of  its  ravages,  was  the  most 
obnoxious  of  the  beasts  of  prey,  did  not,  however,  supply  the 
degree  of  diversion  which  his  name  promised  :  he  usually 
fled  far — in  some  instances  many  miles — before  he  took 
courage  to  turn  to  bay,  and  though  formidable  at  such  mo- 
ments, destroying  both  dogs  and  men  by  his  terrible  bite, 
yet  at  other  times  was  rather  despised  for  his  cowardice. 
The  boar,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  much  more  irascible  and 
courageous  animal. 

The  wild  cattle,  the  most  formidable  of  all  the  tenants  of 
the  ancient  Caledonian  forest,  were,  however,  to  the  English 


882  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

cavaliers  by  far  the  most  interesting  objects  of  pursuit. 
Altogether,  the  ringing  of  bnglrs,  the  clattering  of  horses' 
hoofs,  the  lowing  and  bellowing  of  the  enraged  mountain 
cattle,  the  sobs  of  deer  mangled  by  throttling  dogs,  the  wild 
shouts  of  exultation  of  the  men,  made  a  chorus  which  ex- 
tended far  through  the  scene  in  which  it  arose,  and  seemed 
to  threaten  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  even  in  its  inmost 
recesses. 

During  the  course  of  the  hunting,  when  a  stag  or  a  boar 
was  expected,  one  of  the  wild  cattle  often  came  rushing  for- 
ward, bearing  down  the  young  trees,  crashing  the  branches 
in  its  progress,  and  in  general  dispersing  whatever  opposition 
was  presented  to  it  by  the  hunters.  Sir  John  de  Walton  was 
the  only  one  of  the  chivalry  of  the  party  who  individually 
succeeded  in  mastering  one  of  these  powerful  animals.  Like 
a  Spanish  tauridor,  he  bore  down  and  killed  with  his  lance 
a  ferocious  bull  ;  two  well-grown  calves  and  three  kine  were 
also  slain,  being  unable  to  carry  off  the  quantity  of  arrows. 
Javelins,  and  other  missiles  directed  against  them  by  the 
archers  and  drivers  ;  but  many  others,  in  spite  of  every  en- 
deavor to  intercept  them,  escaped  to  their  gloomy  haunts  in 
the  remote  skirts  of  the  mountain  called  Cairntable,  with  their 
hides  well-feathered  with  those  marks  of  human  enmity. 

A  large  portion  of  the  morning  was  spent  in  this  way, 
until  a  particular  blast  from  the  master  of  the  hunt  an- 
nounced that  he  had  not  forgot  the  discreet  custom  of  the 
repast,  which,  on  such  occasions,  was  provided  for  upon  a 
scale  proportioned  to  the  multitude  who  had  been  convened 
to  attend  the  sport. 

The  blast  peculiar  to  the  time  assembled  the  whole  party 
in  an  open  space  in  a  wood,  where  their  numbers  had  room 
and  accommodation  to  sit  down  upon  the  green  turf,  the 
slain  game  affording  a  plentiful  supply  for  roasting  or  broil- 
ing, an  employment  in  which  the  lower  class  were  all  ini- 
mediately  engaged  ;  while  puncheons  and  pipes,  placed  _  in 
readiness,  and  scientifically  opened,  supplied  Gascoigne  wine 
and  mighty  ale  at  the  pleasure  of  those  who  chose  to  appeal 

to  them.  •       «  . 

The  knights,  whose  rank  did  not  admit  of  interference, 
were  seated  by  themselves,  and  ministered  to  by  their  squires 
and  pages,  to  whom  such  menial  services  were  not  accounted 
disgraceful,  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  proper  step  of  their 
education.  The  number  of  those  distinguished  persons  seated 
upon  the  present  occasion  at  the  table  of  dais,  as  it  was 
called,  in  virtue  of  a  canopy  of  green  boughs  with  which  it  was 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  S83 

overshadowed,  comprehended  Sir  John  de  Walton,  Sir  Aymer 
de  Valence,  and  some  reverend  brethren  dedicated  to  the 
service  of  St.  Bride,  who,  though  Scottish  ecclesiastics,  were 
treated  with  becoming  respect  by  the  English  soldiers.  One 
or  two  Scottish  retainers  or  vavasours,  maintaining,  perhaps 
in  prudence,  a  suitable  deference  to  the  English  knight, 
sat  at  the  bottom  of  the  table,  and  as  many  English  archers, 
peculiarly  respected  by  their  suj^eriors,  were  invited,  accord- 
ing to  the  modern  phrase,  to  the  honors  of  the  sitting. 

Sir  John  de  Walton  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  ;  his  eye, 
though  it  seemed  to  have  no  certain  object,  yet  never  for  a 
moment  remained  stationary,  but  glanced  from  one  counte- 
nance to  another  of  the  ring  formed  by  his  guests,  for  such 
they  all  were,  no  doubt,  though  he  himself  could  hardly 
have  told  upon  what  principle  he  had  issued  the  invitations  ; 
and  even  apparently  was  at  a  loss  to  think  what,  in  one  or 
two  cases,  had  procured  him  the  honor  of  their  presence. 

One  person  in  particular  caught  De  Walton's  eye,  as  having 
the  air  of  a  redoubted  man-at-arms,  although  it  seemed  as  if 
fortune  had  not  of  late  smiled  upon  his  enterprises.  He 
was  a  tall  raw-boned  man,  of  an  extremely  rugged  coun- 
tenance, and  his  skin,  which  showed  itself  through  many  a 
loophole  in  his  dress,  exhibited  a  comjilexion  which  must 
have  endured  all  the  varieties  of  an  outlawed  life  ;  and  akin 
to  one  who  had,  according  to  the  customary  phrase,  ''ta'en 
the  bent  with  Robin  Bruce ' — in  other  words,  occupied  the 
moors  with  him  as  an  insurgent.  Some  such  idea  certainly 
crossed  De  Walton's  mind.  Yet  the  apparent  coolness  and 
absence  of  alarm  with  which  the  stranger  sat  at  the  board 
of  an  English  officer,  at  the  same  time  being  wholly  in  his 
power,  had  much  in  it  which  was  irreconcilable  with  any 
such  suggestion.  De  Walton,  and  several  of  those  about 
him,  had  in  the  course  of  the  day  observed  that  this  tattered 
cavalier,  the  most  remarkable  parts  of  whose  garb  and  equip- 
ments consisted  of  an  old  coat-of-mail  and  a  rusted  yet 
massive  partizan  about  eight  feet  long,  was  possessed  of 
superior  skill  in  the  art  of  hunting  to  any  individual  of  their 
numerous  party.  The  governor  having  looked  at  this  sus- 
picious figure  until  he  had  rendered  the  stranger  aware  of 
the  special  interest  which  he  attracted,  at  length  filled  a 
goblet  of  choice  wine,  and  requested  him,  as  one  of  the  best 
pupils  of  Sir  Tristrem  who  had  attended  upon  the  day's 
chase,  to  pledge  fiim  in  a  vintage  superior  to  that  supplied 
to  the  general  company. 

"I  suppose,  however,   sir,"  said  De  Walton,   ''you  will 


mi  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

have  no  objections  to  put  off  my  challenge  of  a  brimmer  until 
you  can  answer  my  pledge  in  Gascoigne  Avine,  which  grew 
in  the  King's  own  demesne,  was  pressed  for  his  own  lip,  and 
is  therefore  fittest  to  be  emptied  to  his  Majesty's  health  and 
prosperity." 

"  One  half  of  the  island  of  Britain,"  said  the  woodsman, 
with  great  composure,  "will  be  of  your  honor's  opinion; 
but,  as  I  belong  to  the  other  half,  even  the  choicest  liquor 
in  Gascony  cannot  render  that  health  acceptable  to  me." 

A  murmur  of  disapprobation  ran  through  the  warriors 
present  ;  the  priests  hung  their  heads,  looked  deadly  grave, 
and  muttered  their  paternosters. 

"You  see,  stranger,"  said  De  Walton,  sternly,  "that 
your  speech  discomposes  the  company." 

"  It  may  be  so,''  replied  the  man,  in  the  same  blunt  tone  ; 
"  and  it  may  happen  that  there  is  no  harm  in  the  speech 
notwithstanding." 

"Do  you  consider  that  it  is  made  in  my  presence  ?"  an- 
swered De  Walton. 

*'  Yes,  sir  governor." 

"  And  have  you  thought  what  must  be  the  necessary  in- 
ference ?"  continued  De  Walton. 

"  I  may  form  a  round  guess,"  answered  the  stranger, 
"what  I  might  have  to  fear,  if  your  safe-conduct  and  word 
of  honor,  when  inviting  me  to  this  hunting,  were  less  trust- 
worthy than  I  know  full  well  it  really  is.  But  I  am  your 
guest ;  your  meat  is  even  now  passing  my  throat  ;  your  cup, 
filled  with  right  good  wine,  I  have  just  now  quaffed  off  ;  and 
I  would  not  fear  the  rankest  paynim  infidel,  if  we  stood  in 
such  relation  together,  much  less  an  English  knight.  I  tell 
you  besides,  sir  knight,  you  undervalue  the  wine  we  have 
quaffed.  The  high  "flavor  and  contents  of  your  cup,  grow 
where  it  will,  give  me  spirit  to  tell  you  one  ortwo  circum- 
stances, which  cold  cautious  sobriety  would,  in  a  moment 
like  this,  have  left  unsaid.  You  wish,  I  doubt  not,  to  know 
who  I  am  ?  My  Christian  name  is  Michael ;  my  surname  is 
that  of  Turnbull — a  redoubted  clan,  to  whose  honors,  even 
in  the  field  of  hunting  or  of  battle,  1  have  added  something. 
My  abode  is  beneath 'the  mountain  of  Euberslaw,  by  the  fair 
streams  of  Teviot.  You  are  surprised  that  I  know  how  to 
hunt  the  wild  cattle— I,  who  have  made  tliem  my  sport  from 
infancy  in  the  lonely  forests  of  Jed  and  Southdean,  and  have 
killed  more  of  them  than  you  or  any  Englishman  in  your 
host  ever  saw,  even  if  you  include  the  doughty  deeds  of  this 
day/' 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  385 

The  bold  Borderer  made  this  declaration  with  the  same 
provoking  degree  of  coolness  which  predominated  in  his 
whole  demeanor,  and  was  indeed  his  principal  attribute. 
His  effrontery  did  not  fail  to  produce  its  effect  upon  Sir 
John  de  Walton,  who  instantly  called  out — "  To  arms  ! — 
to  arms  !  Secure  the  spy  and  traitor.  Ho  !  pages  and  yeo- 
men— William,  Anthony,  Bend-the-Bow,  and  Greenleaf — 
seize  the  traitor,  and  bind  him  with  your  bowstrings  and  dog- 
leashes — bind  him,  I  say,  until  the  blood  stars  from  beneath 
his  nails." 

"  Here  is  a  goodly  summons  !  "  said  Turnbull,  with  a  sort 
of  horse-laugh.  "^  Were  I  as  sure  of  being  answered  by  twenty 
men  I  could  name,  there  would  be  small  doubt  of  the  upshot 
of  this  day." 

The  archers  thickened  around  the  hunter,  yet  laid  no 
hold  on  him,  none  of  them  being  willing  to  be  the  first  who 
broke  the  peace  proper  to  the  occasion. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  De  Walton,  "  thou  traitor,  for  what 
waitest  thou  here  ?"  _ 

"  Simply  and  solely,"  said  the  Jed  forester,  "  that  I  may 
deliver  up  to  the  Douglas  the  castle  of  his  ancestors,  and 
that  I  may  ensure  thee,  sir  Englishman,  the  payment  of  thy 
deserts,  by  cutting  that  very  throat  which  thou  makest  such 
a  bawling  use  of." 

At  the  same  time,  perceiving  that  the  yeomen  were  crowd- 
ing behind  him  to  carry  their  lord's  commands  into  execu- 
tion so  soon  as  they  should  be  reiterated,  the  huntsman 
turned  himself  short  round  upon  those  who  appeared  about 
to  surprise  him,  and  having,  by  the  suddenness  of  the  action 
induced  them  to  step  back  a  pace,  he  proceeded — "  Yes, 
John  de  Walton,  my  purpose  was  ere  now  to  have  put  thee 
to  death,  as  one  whom  I  find  in  possession  of  that  castle  and 
territory  which  belong  to  my  master,  a  knight  much  more 
worthy  than  thyself  ;  but  I  know  not  why  I  have  paused — 
thou  hast  given  me  food  when  I  have  hungered  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  I  have  not  therefore  had  the  heart  to  pay  thee  at 
advantage  as  thou  hast  deserved.  Begone  from  this  place 
and  country,  and  take  the  fair  warning  of  a  foe  ;  thou  hast 
constituted  thyself  the  mortal  enemy  of  this  people,  and 
there  are  those  among  them  who  have  seldom  been  injured 
or  defied  with  impunity.  Take  no  care  in  searching  after 
nie — it  will  be  in  vain — until  I  meet  thee  at  a  time  which 
will  come  at  my  pleasure,  not  thine.  Push  not  your  inqui- 
sition into  cruelty,  to  discover  by  what  means  I  have  deceived 
you,  for  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  learn  :  and  with  this 
25 


386  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

friendly  advice,  look  at  me  and  take  your  leave,  for,  although 
we  shall  one  day  meet,  it  may  be  long  ere  I  see  you  again." 

De  Walton  remained  silent,  hoping  that  his  prisoner  (for 
he  saw  no  chance  of  his  escaping)  might,  in  his  communicative 
humor,  drop  some  more  information,  and  was  not  desirous 
to  precipitate  a  fray  with  which  the  scene  was  likely  to  con- 
clude, unconscious  at  the  same  time  of  the  advantage  which 
he  thereby  gave  the  daring  hunter. 

As  Turnbull  concluded  his  sentence,  he  made  a  sudden 
spring  backwards,  which  carried  him  out  of  the  circle  formed 
around  him,  and,  before  they  were  aware  of  his  intentions, 
at  once  disappeared  among  the  underwood. 

"Seize  him — seize  him!"  repeated  De  Walton;  'Met  us 
have  him  at  least  at  our  discretion,  unless  the  earth  has 
actually  swallowed  him." 

This  indeed  appeared  not  unlikely,  for  near  the  place 
where  Turnbull  had  made  the  spring  there  yawned  a  steep 
ravine,  into  which  he  plunged,  and  descended  by  the  assist- 
ance of  branches,  bushes,  and  copsewood  until  he  reached 
the  bottom,  where  he  found  some  road  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  forest,  through  which  he  made  his  escape,  leaving  the 
most  expert  woodsmen  among  the  pursuers  totally  at  fault, 
and  unable  to  trace  his  footsteps. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

This  interlude  carried  some  confusion  into  the  proceedings 
of  the  hunt,  thus  suddenly  surprised  by  the  apparition  of 
Michael  Turnbull,  an  armed  and  avowed  follower  of  the 
house  of  Douglas,  a  sight  so  little  to  be  expected  in  the  ter- 
ritory where  his  master  was  held  a  rebel  and  a  bandit,  and 
where  he  himself  must  have  been  well  known  to  most  of  the 
peasantry  present.  The  circumstance  made  an  obvious  im- 
pression on  the  English  chivalry.  Sir  John  de  Walton  looked 
grave  and  thoughtful,  ordered  the  hunters  to  be  assembled 
on  the  spot,  and  directed  his  soldiers  to  commence  a  strict 
search  among  the  persons  who  had  attended  the  chase,  so  as 
to  discover  whether  Turnbull  had  any  companions  among 
them  ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  make  that  inquiry  in  the  strict 
fashion  which  De  Walton  directed. 

The  Scottish  attendants  on  the  chase,  when  they  beheld 
that  the  hunting  under  pretense  of  which  they  were  called 
together,  was  interrupted  for  the  purpose  of  laying  hands 
upon  their  persons,  and  subjecting  them  to  examination, 
took  care  to  suit  their  answers  to  the  questions  put  to  them 
— in  a  word,  they  kept  their  own  secret,  if  they  had  any. 
Many  of  them,  conscious  of  being  the  weaker  party,  became 
afraid  of  foul  play,  slipt  away  from  the  places  to  which  they 
had  been  appointed  and  left  the  hunting-match  like  men 
who  conceived  they  had  been  invited  with  no  friendly  intent. 
Sir  John  de  Walton  became  aware  of  the  decreasing  numbers 
of  the  Scottish,  their  gradual  disappearance  awakening  in 
the  English  knight  that  degree  of  suspicion  which  had  of 
late  become  his  peculiar  characteristic. 

"  Take,  I  pray  thee,"  said  he  to  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence, 
''as  many  men-at-arms  as  thou  canst  get  together  in  five 
minutes'  space,  and  at  least  a  hundred  of  the  mounted 
archers,  and  ride  as  fast  as  thou  canst,  without  permitting 
them  to  straggle  from  thy  standard,  to  reinforce  the  garrison 
of  Douglas  ;  for  I  have  my  own  thoughts  what  may  have  been 
attempted  on  the  castle,  when  we  observe  with  our  own  eyes 
such  a  nest  of  traitors  here  assembled." 

"  With  reverence.  Sir  John,"  replied  Aymer,  '-'you  shoot 
in  this  matter  rather  beyond  the  mark.  That  the"^  Scottish 
387 


888  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

peasants  have  bad  thouglits  against  ns,  I  will  be  the  last  to 
deny  ;  but,  long  debarred  from  any  silvan  sport,  you  cannot 
wonder  at  their  crowding  to  any  diversion  by  wood  or  river, 
and  still  less  at  their  being  easily  alarmed  as  to  the  certainty 
of  the  safe  footing  on  which  they  stand  with  us.  The  least 
rough  usage  is  likely  to  strike  them  with  fear  and  with  the 
desire  of  escape,  and  so " 

"  And  so,"  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who  had  listened 
with  a  degree  of  impatience  scarce  consistent  with  the  grave 
and  formal  politeness  which  one  knight  was  accustomed  to 
bestow  upon  another — "  and  so  I  would  rather  see  Sir  Aymer 
de  Valence  busy  his  horse's  heels  to  execute  my  orders  than 
give  his  tongue  the  trouble  of  impugning  them." 

At  this  sharp  reprimand,  all  present  looked  at  each  other 
with  indications  of  marked  displeasure.  Sir  Aymer  was 
highly  offended,  but  saw  it  was  no  time  to  indulge  in  repri- 
sal. He  bowed  until  the  feather  which  was  in  his  barret-cap 
mingled  with  his  horse's  mane,  and  without  reply — for  he  did 
not  even  choose  to  trust  his  voice  in  reply  at  the  moment — 
headed  a  considerable  body  of  cavalry  by  the  straightest  road 
back  to  the  Castle  of  Douglas. 

When  he  came  to  one  of  those  eminences  from  which  he 
could  observe  the  massive  and  complicated  towers  and  walls 
of  the  old  fortress,  with  the  glitter  of  the  broad  lake  which 
surrounded  it  on  three  sides,  he  felt  much  pleasure  at  the 
sight  of  the  great  banner  of  England,  which  streamed  from 
the  highest  part  of  the  building.  "  I  knew  it,"  he  internally 
said — "  I  was  certain  that  Sir  John  de  Walton  had  become  a 
very  woman  in  the  indulgence  of  his  fears  and  suspicions. 
Alas  !  that  a  situation  of  responsibility  should  so  much  have 
altered  a  disposition  which  I  have  known  so  noble  and  so 
knightly  !  By  this  good  day,  I  scarce  know  in  what  manner 
I  should  demean  me  when  thus  publicly  rebuked  before  the 
garrison.  Certainly  he  deserves  that  I  should,  at  some  time 
or  other,  let  him  understand  that,  however  he  may  triumph 
in  the  exercise  of  his  short-lived  command,  yet,  when  man 
is  to  meet  with  mau,  it  will  puzzle  Sir  John  de  Walton  to 
show  himself  the  superior  of  Aymer  de  Valence,  or  perhaps 
to  establish  himself  as  his  equal.  But  if,  on  the  contrary, 
his  fears,  however  fantastic,  are  sincere  at  the  moment  he 
expresses  them,  it  becomes  me  to  obey  punctually  commands 
which,  however  absurd,  are  imposed  in  consequence  of  the 
governor's  belief  that  they  are  rendered  necessary  by  the 
times,  and  not  inventions  designed  to  vex  and  domineer  over 
his  officers  in  the  indulgence  of  his  official  powers.     I  would 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  389 

1  knew  which  is  the  true  statement  of  the  case,  and  whether 
the  once  famed  De  Walton  is  become  afraid  of  his  enemies 
more  than  fits  a  knight,  or  makes  imaginary  doubts  the  pre- 
text of  tyrannizing  over  his  friend.  I  cannot  say  it  would 
make  much  difference  to  me,  but  I  would  rather  have  it 
that  the  man  I  once  loved  had  turned  a  petty  tyrant  than  a 
Aveak-spirited  coward  ;  and  I  would  be  content  that  he  should 
study  to  vex  me,  rather  than  be  afraid  of  his  own  shadow." 

With  these  ideas  passing  in  his  mind,  the  young  knight 
crossed  the  causeway  which  traversed  the  piece  of  water  that 
fed  the  moat,  and,  passing  under  the  strongly  fortified  gate- 
way, gave  strict  orders  for  letting  down  the  portcullis  and 
elevating  the  drawbridge,  even  at  the  appearance  of  De 
Walton's  own  standard  before  it. 

A  slow  and  guarded  movement  from  the  hunting-ground 
to  the  Castle  of  Douglas  gave  the  governor  ample  time  to 
recover  his  temper,  and  to  forget  that  his  young  friend  had 
shown  less  alacrity  than  usual  in  obeying  his  commands.  He 
was  even  disposed  to  treat  as  a  jest  the  length  of  time  and 
extreme  degree  of  ceremony  with  which  every  point  of  mar- 
tial discipline  was  observed  on  his  own  re-admission  to  the 
castle,  though  the  raw  air  of  a  wet  spring  evening  whistled 
around  his  own  unsheltered  person  and  those  of  his  follow- 
ers, as  they  waited  before  the  castle  gate  for  the  exchange  ot 
passwords,  the  delivery  of  keys,  and  all  the  slow  minutiae 
attendant  upon  the  movements  of  a  garrison  in  a  well- 
guarded  fortress. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  to  an  old  knight,  who  was  peevishly 
blaming  the  lieutenant-governor,  ''it  was  my  own  fault  :  I 
spoke  but  now  to  Aymer  de  Valence  Avith  more  authoritative 
emphasis  than  his  newly-dubbed  dignity  was  pleased  with, 
and  this  precise  style  of  obedience  is  apiece  of  not  unnatural 
and  very  pardonable  revenge.  Well,  we  will  owe  him  a 
return.  Sir  Philip — shall  we  not  ?  This  is  not  a  night  to 
keep  a  man  at  the  gate." 

This  dialogue,  overheard  by  some  of  the  squires  and  pages, 
was  bai  died  about  from  one  to  another,  until  it  entirely  lost 
the  tone  of  good-humor  in  which  it  Avas  spoken,  and  the 
offense  for  which  Sir  John  de  Walton  and  old  Sir  Philip 
were  to  meditate  revenge,  and  Avas  said  to  have  been  repre- 
sented by  the  governor  as  a  piece  of  mortal  and  intentional 
offense  on  the  part  of  his  subordinate  officer. 

Thus  an  increasing  feud  went  on  from  day  to  day  between 
two  warriors  who,  with  no  just  cause  of  quarrel,  had  at  heart 
every  reason   to  esteem  an d^  love  each   other.     It  became 


890  n^A VEELET  NOVELS 

visible  in  the  fortress  even  to  those  of  the  lower  rank,  who 
hoped  to  gain  some  consequence  by  intermingling  in  the 
species  of  emulation  produced  by  the  jealousy  of  the  com- 
manding-officers— an  emulation  which  may  take  place,  in- 
deed, in  the  present  day.  but  can  hardly  have  the  same  sense 
of  wounded  pride  and  jealous  dignity  attached  to  it  which 
existed  in  times  when  the  personal  honor  of  knighthood 
rendered  those  who  possessed  it  jealous  of  every  punctilio. 

So  many  little  debates  took  place  between  the  two  knights, 
that  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  thought  himself  under  the  neces- 
eity  of  writing  to  his  uncle  and  namesake,  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke, stating  that  his  officer,  Sir  John  de  Walton,  had  un- 
fortunately of  late  taken  some  degree  of  prejudice  against 
him,  and  that,  after  having  borne  with  many  provoking  in- 
stances of  his  displeasure,  he  was  now  compelled  to  request 
that  his  place  of  service  should  be  changed  from  the  Castle 
of  Douglas  to  wherever  honor  could  be  acquired,  and  time 
might  be  given  to  put  an  end  to  his  present  cause  of  com- 
plaint against  his  commanding-officer.  Through  the  whole 
letter  young  Sir  Aymer  was  particularly  cautious  how  he 
expressed  his  sense  of  Sir  John  de  Walton's  jealousy  or 
severe  usage  ;  but  such  sentiments  are  not  easily  concealed, 
and  in  spite  of  him  an  air  of  displeasure  glanced  out  from 
several  passages,  and  indicated  his  discontent  with  his  uncle's 
old  friend  and  companion-in-arms,  and  with  the  sphere  of 
military  duty  which  his  uncle  had  himself  assigned  him. 

An  accidental  movement  among  the  English  troops 
brought  Sir  Aymer  an  answer  to  his  letter  sooner  than  he 
could  have  hoped  for  at  that  time  of  day,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  correspondence,  which  was  then  extremely  slow 
and  interrupted. 

Pembroke,  a  rigid  old  warrior,  entertained  the  most  partial 
opinion  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who  was  a  work  as  it  were 
of  his  own  hands,  and  was  indignant  to  find  that  his  nephew, 
whom  he  considered  as  a  mere  boy,  elated  by  having  had  the 
dignity  of  knighthood  conferred  upon  him  at  an  age  un- 
usually early,  did  not  absolutely  coincide  with  him  in  this 
opinion.  He  replied  to  him,  accordingly,  in  a  tone  of  high 
displeasure,  and  expressed  himself  as  a  person  of  rank  would 
write  to  a  young  and  dependent  kinsman  upon  the  duties  of 
his  profession  ;  and,  as  he  gathered  his  nephew's  cause  of 
complaint  from  his  own  letter,  he  conceived  that  he  did  him 
no  injustice  in  making  it  slighter  than  it  really  was.  _  He 
reminded  the  young  man  that  the  study  of  chivalry  consisted 
in  the  faithful   and  patient  discharge  of  military  service 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  391 

(jphether  of  high  or  low  degree,  according  to  the  circumstances 
in  wliich  war  placed  the  champion.  That,  above  all,  the 
post  of  danger,  which  Douglas  Castle  had  been  termed  by 
common  consent,  was  also  the  post  of  lionor  ;  and  that  a 
young  man  should  be  cautious  how  he  incurred  the  supposi- 
tion of  being  desirous  of  quitting  his  present  honorable  com- 
mand, because  he  was  tired  of  the  discipline  of  a  military 
director  so  renowned  as  Sir  John  de  Walton.  Much  also 
there  was,  as  was  natural  in  a  letter  of  that  time,  concern- 
ing the  duty  of  young  men,  whether  in  council  or  in  arms, 
to  be  guided  implicitly  by  their  elders  ;  and  it  was  observed, 
with  justice,  that  the  commanding-officer,  who  had  put  him- 
self into  the  situation  of  being  responsible  with  his  honor, 
if  not  his  life,  for  the  event  of  the  siege  or  blockade,  might 
justly,  and  in  a  degree  more  than  common,  claim  the  implicit 
direction  of  the  whole  defense.  Lastly,  Pembroke  reminded 
his  nephew  that  he  was,  in  a  great  measure,  dependent  upon 
the  report  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  for  the  character  which 
he  was  to  sustain  in  after  life  ;  and  reminded  him  that  a 
few  actions  of  headlong  and  inconsiderate  valor  would  not 
so  firmly  found  his  military  reputation  as  months  and  years 
spent  in  regular,  humble,  and  steady  obedience  to  the  com- 
mands which  the  governor  of  Douglas  Castle  might  think 
necessary  in  so  dangerous  a  conjuncture. 

This  missive  arrived  within  so  short  a  time  after  the 
despatch  of  the  letter  to  which  it  was  a  reply,  that  Sir  Aymer 
was  almost  tempted  to  suppose  that  his  uncle  had  some  mode 
of  corresponding  with  De  Walton  unknown  to  the  young 
knight  himself  and  to  the  rest  of  the  garrison.  And  as  the 
earl  alluded  to  some  particular  displeasure  which  had  been 
exhibited  by  De  Valence  on  a  late  trivial  occasion,  his  uncle's 
knowledge  of  this  and  other  minutige  seemed  to  confirm  his 
idea  that  his  own  conduct  was  watched  in  a  manner  which 
he  did  not  feel  honorable  to  himself  or  dignified  on  the  part 
of  his  relative  ;  in  a  word,  he  conceived  himself  exposed  to 
that  sort  of  surveillance  of  which,  in  all  ages,  the  young 
have  accused  the  old.  It  hardly  needs  to  say  that  the  ad- 
monition of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  greatly  chafed  the  fiery 
spirit  of  his  nephew,  insomuch  that,  if  the  earl  had  wished 
to  write  a  letter  purposely  to  increase  the  prejudices  which 
he  desired  to  put  an  end  to,  he  could  not  have  made  use  of 
terms  better  calculated  for  that  elTect. 

The  truth  was,  that  the  old  archer,  Gilbert  Greenleaf,  had, 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  young  knight,  gone  to  Pem- 
broke's camp,  in  Ayrshire,  and  was  recommended  by   Sir 


892  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

John  de  Walton  to  the  earl  as  a  person  who  could  give  such 
minute  information  respecting  A3-mer  de  Valence  as  he  might 
desire  to  receive.  The  old  archer  was,  as  we  have  seen,  a 
formalist,  and  when  pressed  on  some  points  of  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence's  discipline,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  throw  out  hints 
which,  connected  with  those  in  the  knight's  letter  to  his 
uncle,  made  the  severe  old  earl  adopt  too  implicitly  the  idea 
that  his  nephew  was  indulging  a  spirit  of  insubordination, 
and  a  sense  of  impatience  under  authority,  most  dangerous 
to  the  character  of  a  young  soldier.  A  little  explanation 
might  have  produced  a  complete  agreement  in  the  sentiment? 
of  both  ;  but  for  this  fate  allowed  neither  time  nor  oppor- 
tunity ;  and  the  old  earl  was  unfortunately  induced  to  be- 
come  a  party,  instead  of  a  negotiator,  in  the  quarrel. 

And  by  decision,  more  embroil'd  the  fray. 

Sir  John  de  "Walton  soon  perceived  that  the  receipt  of 
Pembroke's  letter  did  not  in  any  respect  alter  the  cold,  cere- 
monious conduct  of  his  lieutenant  towards  him,  which 
limited  their  intercourse  to  what  their  situation  rendered  in- 
dispensable, and  exhibited  no  advances  to  any  more  frank  or 
intimate  connection.  Thus,  as  may  sometimes  be  the  case 
between  officers  in  their  relative  situations  even  in  the  present 
day,  they  remained  in  that  cold,  stiff  degree  of  official  com- 
munication in  which  their  intercourse  was  limited  to  as  few 
expressions  as  the  respective  duties  of  their  situation  abso- 
lutely demanded.  Such  a  state  of  misunderstanding  is,  in 
fact,"^  worse  than  a  downright  quarrel  :  the  latter  may  be  ex- 
plained or  apologized  for,  or  become  the  subject  of  medita- 
tion, but  in  such  a  case  as  the  former  an  eclaircissement  is  as 
unlikely  to  take  place  as  a  general  engagement  between  two 
armies  which  have  taken  up  strong  defensive  position?  on  both 
sides.  Duty,  however,  obliged  the  two  principal  persons  in 
the  garrison  of  Douglas  Castle  to  be  often  togetlier,  when 
they  were  so  far  from  seeking  an  opportunity  of  making  up 
matters,  that  they  usually  revived  ancient  subjects  of  debate. 

It  was  upon  such  an  occasion  that  De  Walton,  in  a  very 
formal  manner,  asked  De  Valence  in  what  capacity,  and  for 
how  long  time,  it  was  his  pleasure  that  the  minstrel  called 
Bertram  should  remain  at  the  castle. 

"A  week,''  said  the.  governor,  "is  certainly  long  enough, 
in  this  time  and  place,  to  express  the  hospitality  due  to  a 
minstrel." 

"  Certainly,*'  replied  the  young  man  ;  "  I  have  not  interest 
enough  in  the  subject  to  form  a  single  wish  upon  it." 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  393 

**  In  that  case,"  resumed  De  Walton,  "  I  shall  request  of 
this  person  to  cut  short  his  visit  at  the  Castle  of  Douglas." 

"  I  know  no  particular  interest,"  replied  Aymer  de  Valence, 
"  which  I  can  possibly  have  in  this  man's  motions.  He  is 
here  under  pretense  of  making  some  researches  after  the 
writings  of  Thomas  of  Ercildoun,  called  the  Ehymer,  which 
he  says  are  infinitely  curious,  and  of  which  there  is  a  volume 
in  the  old  baron's  study,  saved  somehow  from  the  flames  at 
the  last  conflagration.  This  told,  you  know  as  much  of  his 
errand  as  I  do  ;  and  if  you  hold  the  presence  of  a  wandering 
old  man  and  the  neighborhood  of  a  boy  dangerous  to  the 
castle  under  your  charge,  you  will  no  doubt  do  well  to  dis- 
miss them — it  will  cost  but  a  word  of  your  mouth." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  De  Walton  ;  "  the  minstrel  came  here 
as  one  of  your  retinue,  and  I  could  not,  in  fitting  courtesy, 
send  him  away  without  your  leave." 

"lam  sorry,  then,"  answered  Sir  Aymer,  "  in  my  turn, 
that  you  did  not  mention  your  purpose  sooner.  I  never  en- 
tertained a  dependent  vassal  or  servant  whose  residence  in 
the  castle  I  would  wish  to  have  prolonged  a  moment  beyond 
your  honorable  pleasure." 

''  I  am  sorry,"  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  "  that  we  two 
have  of  late  grown  so  extremely  courteous  that  it  is  difficult 
for  us  to  understand  each  other.  This  minstrel  and  his  son 
come  from  we  know  not  where,  and  are  bound  we  know  not 
whither.  There  is  a  report  among  some  of  your  escort  that 
this  fellow  Bertram  upon  the  way  had  the  audacity  to  im- 
pugn, even  to  your  face,  the  King  of  England's  right  to  the 
crown  of  Scotland,  and  that  he  debated  the  point  with  you, 
while  your  other  attendants  were  desired  by  you  to  keep 
behind  and  out  of  hearing." 

"  Hah  ! "  said  Sir  Aymer,  "  do  you  mean  to  found  on  that 
circumstance  any  charge  against  my  loyalty  ?  I  pray  you  to 
observe  that  such  an  averment  would  touch  mine  honor, 
which  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  defend  to  the  last  gasp." 

"No  doubt  of  it,  sir  knight,"  answered  the  governor; 
''  but  it  is  the  strolling  minstrel,  and  not  the  high-born  Eng- 
lish knight,  against  whom  the  charge  is  brought.  Well,  the 
minstrel  come's  to  this  castle,  and  he  intimates  a  wish  that  his 
son  should  be  allowed  to  take  up  his  quarters  at  the  little  old 
convent  of  St.  Bride,  where  two  or  three  Scottish  nuns  and 
friars  are  still  permitted  to  reside,  most  of  them  rather  out 
of  respect  to  their  order  than  for  any  good-will  which  they 
are  supposed  to  bear  the  English  or  their  sovereign.  It  may 
also  be  noticed  that  this  leave  was  purchased  by  a  larger  sum 


394  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  money,  if  my  information  be  correct,  than  is  usually  to 
be  found  in  the  purses  of  traveling  minstrels,  a  class  of  wan- 
derers alike  remarkable  for  their  poverty  and  for  their  genius. 
What  do  you  think  of  all  this  ?" 

"I  ! "  rej^lied  De  Valence.  "  I  am  happy  that  my  situation, 
as  a  soldier  under  command,  altogether  dispenses  with  my 
thinking  of  it  at  all.  My  post,  as  lieutenant  of  your  castle, 
is  such  that,  if  I  can  manage  matters  so  as  to  call  my  honor 
and  my  soul  my  own,  I  must  think  that  quite  enough  of  free- 
will is  left  at  my  command  ;  and  I  promise  you  shall  not  have 
again  to  reprove,  or  send  a  bad  report  of  me  to  my  uncle,  on 
that  account." 

"  This  is  beyond  suffrance  ! "  said  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
half  aside,  and  then  proceeded  aloud — "  Do  not,  for  Heaven's 
sake,  do  yourself  and  me  the  injustice  of  supposing  that  I 
am  endeavoring  to  gain  an  advantage  over  you  by  these  ques- 
tions. Eecollect,  young  knight,  that,  when  you  evade  giving 
your  commanding-officer  your  advice  when  required,  you  fail 
as  much  in  point  of  duty  as  if  you  declined  affording  him  the 
assistance  of  your  sword  and  lance." 

''Such  being  the  case,"  answered  De  Valence,  ''let  me 
know  plainly  on  what  matter  it  is  that  you  require  my  opinion. 
I  will  deliver  it  plainly,  and  stand  by  the  result,  even  if  I 
should  have  the  misfortune — a  crime  unpardonable  in  so 
young  man  and  so  inferior  an  officer — to  differ  from  that  of 
Sir  John  de  Walton." 

"  I  would  ask  you,  then,  sir  knight  of  Valence,"  answered 
the  governor,  "  what  is  your  opinion  with  respect  to  this 
minstrel  Bertram,  and  whether  the  susj^icions  respecting  him 
and  his  son  are  not  such  as  to  call  upon  me,  in  performance 
of  my  duty,  to  put  them  to  a  close  examination,  with  the 
question  ordinary  and  extraordinary,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases, 
and  to  expel  them  not  only  from  the  castle,  but  from  the 
whole  territory  of  Douglas  Dale,  under  pain  of  scourging,  if 
they  be  again  found  wandering  in  these  parts  ?  " 

"  You  ask  me  my  opinion,"  said  De  Valence,  "and  you 
shall  have  it,  sir  knight  of  Walton,  as  freely  and  fairly  as  if 
matters  stood  betwixt  us  on  a  footing  as  friendly  as  they  ever 
did.  I  agree  with  you  that  most  of  those  who  in  these  days 
profess  the  science  of  minstrelsy  are  altogether  unqualified 
to  support  the  higher  pretensions  of  that  noble  order.  Min- 
strels by  right  are  men  who  have  dedicated  themselves  to  the 
noble  occupation  of  celebrating  knightly  deeds  and  generous 
principles  :  it  is  in  their  verse  that  the  valiant  knight  is 
nanded  down  to  fame,  and  the  poet  has  a  right,  nay,  is  bound, 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  395 

to  emulate  the  virtues  which  he  praises.  The  looseness  of 
the  times  has  diminished  the  consequence  and  impaired  the 
morality  of  this  class  of  wanderers  :  their  satire  and  their 
praise  are  now  too  often  distributed  on  no  other  principle 
than  love  of  gain  ;  -yet  let  us  hope  that  there  are  still  among 
them  some  who  know,  and  also  willingly  perform,  their  duty. 
My  own  opinion  is,  that  this  Bertram  liolds  himself  as  one 
who  has  not  shared  in  the  degradation  of  his  brethren,  nor 
bent  the  knee  to  the  mammon  of  the  times  ;  it  must  remain 
with  you,  sir,  to  judge  whether  such  a  person,  honorably  and 
morally  disposed,  can  cause  any  danger  to  the  Castle  of 
Douglas.  But  believing,  from  the  sentiments  he  has  mani- 
fested to  me,  that  he  is  incapable  of  playing  the  part  of  a 
traitor,  I  must  strongly  remonstrate  against  his  being  pun- 
ished as  one,  or  subjected  to  the  torture  within  the  wnlls  of 
an  English  garrison.  I  should  blush  for  my  country  if  it  re- 
quired of  us  to  inflict  such  wanton  misery  upon  wanderers 
whose  sole  fault  is  poverty  ;  and  your  own  knightly  senti- 
ments will  suggest  more  than  would  become  me  to  state  to 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  unless  in  so  far  as  is  necessary  to  apolo- 
gize for  retaining  my  own  opinion." 

Sir  John  de  Walton's  dark  brow  was  stricken  with  red  when 
he  heard  an  opinion  delivered,  in  opposition  to  his  own,  which 
plainly  went  to  stigmatize  his  advice  as  ungenerous,  unfeel- 
ing, and  unknightly.  He  made  an  effort  to  preserve  his 
temper,  while  he  thus  replied  with  a  degree  of  calmness — 
•'You  have  given  your  opinion.  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  ;  and 
that  you  have  given  it  openly  and  boldly,  without  regard  to 
my  own,  I  thank  you.  It  is  not  quite  so  clear  that  I  am 
obliged  to  defer  my  own  sentiments  to  yours,  in  case  the  rules 
on  which  I  hold  my  office,  the  commands  of  the  King,  and 
the  observations  which  I  may  personally  have  made,  shall  rec- 
ommend to  me  a  different  line  of  conduct  from  that  which 
you  think  it  right  to  suggest," 

De  Walton  bowed,  ia  conclusion,  with  great  gravity  ;  and 
the  young  kniglit,  returning  the  reverence  with  exactly  the 
same  degree  of  stiff  formality,  asked  whether  there  were 
any  particular  orders  respecting  his  duty  in  the  castle  ; 
and  having  received  an  answer  in  the  negative,  took  his 
departure. 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  after  an  expression  of  impatience,  as 
if  disappointed  at  finding  that  the  advance  which  he  had 
made  towards  an  explanation  with  his  young  friend  had 
proved  unexpectedly  abortive,  composed  his  brow  as  if  to 
deep  thought,  and  walked  several  times  to  and  fro  in  the 


396  TV  A  VERLEY  NOVELS 

apartment,  considering  what  course  he  was  to  take  in  these 
circumstances.  "  It  is  hard  to  censure  him  severely,"  he 
said,  "  when  I  recollect  that,  on  first  entering  ui^on  life,  my 
own  thoughts  and  feelings  would  have  been  the  same  with 
those  of  this  giddy  and  hot-headed,  but.  generous,  boy.  Now 
prudence  teaches  me  to  suspect  mankind  in  a  thousand  in- 
stances where  perhaps  there  is  not  sufficient  ground.  If  I 
am  disposed  to  venture  my  own  honor  and  fortune,  rather 
than  an  idle  traveling  minstrel  should  suffer  a  little  pain, 
which  at  all  events  I  might  make  up  to  him  by  money,  still, 
have  I  a  right  to  run  the  risk  of  a  conspiracy  against  the 
King,  and  thus  advance  the  treasonable  surrender  of  the 
Castle  of  Douglas,  for  which  I  know  so  many  schemes  are 
formed  ;  for  which,  too,  none  can  be  imagined  so  desperate 
but  agents  will  be  found  bold  enough  to  undertake  the  exe- 
cution ?_  A  man  who  holds  my  situation,  although  the  slave 
of  conscience,  ought  to  learn  to  set  aside  those  false  scruples 
which  assume  the  appearance  of  flowing  from  our  own  morai 
feeling,  whereas  they  are  in  fact  instilled  by  the  suggestior 
of  affected  delicacy.  I  will  not,  I  swear  by  Heaven,  be  in- 
fected by  the  follies  of  a  boy  such  as  Aymer  ;  I  will  not, 
that  I  may  defer  to  his  caprices,  lose  all  that  love,  honor, 
and  ambition  can  propose  for  the  reward  of  twelve  months' 
service,  of  a  nature  the  most  watchful  and  unpleasant.  I 
will  go  straight  to  my  point,  and  use  the  ordinary  precau- 
tions in  Scotland  which  I  should  employ  in  Normandy  oi 
Gascoigne.     What  ho  !  page,  who  waits  there  ?" 

One  of  his  attendants  replied  to  his  summons.  "  Seel 
me  out  Gilbert  Greenleaf  the  archer,  and  tell  him  I  would 
speak  with  him  touching  the  two  bows  and  the  sheaf  of 
arrows  concerning  which  I  gave  him  a  commission  to  Ayr." 

A  few  minutes  intervened  after  tlie  order  was  given,  when 
the  archer  entered,  holding  in  his  hand  two  bow-staves,  not 
yet  fashioned,  and  a  number  of  arrows  secured  together  with 
a  thong.  He  bore  the  mysterious  looks  of  one  whose  ap- 
parent business  is  not  of  very  great  consequence,  but  k 
meant  as  a  passport  for  other  affairs  which  are  in  themselves 
of  a  secret  nature.  Accordingly,  as  the  knight  was  silent^ 
and  afforded  no  other  opening  for  Greenleaf,  that  judicious- 
negotiator  proceeded  to  enter  \\])o\\  such  as  was  open  to  hiuL 

"  Here  are  the  bow-staves,  noble  sir,  which  you  desireoi 
me  to  obtain  while  I  was  at  Ayr  with  the  Earl  of  Pembroke** 
army.  They  are  not  so  good  as  I  could  have  wished,  yei' 
are  perhaps  of  better  quality  than  could  have  been  procures^ 
by  any  other  than  a  fair  judge  of  the  weapon.     The  iiaii  Q:^ 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  39T 

Pembroke's  whole  camp  are  frantic  mad  in  order  to  procure 
real  Spanish  staves  from  the  Groyne  and  other  ports  in 
Spain  ;  but  though  two  vessels  laden  with  such  came  into 
the  port  of  Ayr,  said  to  be  for  the  King's  army,  yet  I  believe 
never  one-half  of  them  have  come  into  English  hands. 
These  two  grew  in  Sherwood,  which  [and],  having  been 
seasoned  since  the  time  of  Robin  Hood,  are  not  likely  to 
fail  either  in  strength  or  in  aim,  in  so  strong  a  hand,  and 
with  so  just  an  eye,  as  those  of  the  men  who  wait  on  your 
worship." 

"  And  who  has  got  the  rest,  since  two  ships'  cargoes  of 
new  bow-staves  are  arrived  at  Ayr,  and  thou  with  difficulty 
hast  only  procured  me  two  old  ones  ?  "  said  the  governor. 

"  Faith,  I  pretend  not  skill  euougli  to  know,"  answered 
Greenleaf,  shrugging  his  shoulder.  "  Talk  there  is  of  plots 
in  that  country  as  well  as  here.  It  is  said  that  their  Bruce 
and  the  rest  of  his  kinsmen  intend  a  new  May-game,  and 
that  the  outlawed  king  proposes  to  land  near  to  Turnberry 
early  in  summer,  with  a  number  of  stout  kernes  from  Ire- 
land ;  and  no  doubt  the  men  of  his  mock  earldom  of  Carrick 
are  getting  them  ready  with  bow  and  spear  for  so  hopeful 
an  undertaking.  I  reckon  that  it  Avill  not  cost  us  the  ex- 
pense of  more  than  a  few  score  of  sheaves  of  arrows  to  put 
all  that  matter  to  rights." 

' '  Do  you  talk  then  of  conspiracies  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  Greenleaf  ?  "  said  De  Walton.  "  I  know  you  are  a 
sagacious  fellow,  well  bred  for  many  a  day  to  the  use  of  the 
bent  stick  and  string,  and  will  not  allow  such  a  practise  to 
go  on  under  thy  nose  without  taking  notice  of  it." 

'*I  am  old  enough,  Heaven  knows,"  said  Greenleaf,  '^and 
have  had  good  experience  of  these  Scottish  wars,  and  know 
well  whether  these  native  Scots  are  a  people  to  be  trusted  to 
by  knight  or  yeoman.  Say  they  are  a  false  generation,  and 
say  a  good  archer  told  you  so,  who  with  a  fair  aim,  seldom 
missed  a  hand's-breadth  of  the  white.  Ah,  sir,  your  honor 
knows  how  to  deal  with  them  :  ride  them  strongly  and  rein 
them  hard  ;  you  are  not  like  those  simple  novices  who  im- 
agine that  all  is  to  be  done  by  gentleness,  and  wish  to  parade 
themselves  as  courteous  and  generous  to  those  faithless  moun- 
taineers, who  never,  in  the  course  of  their  lives,  knew  any 
tincture  either  of  courteousness  or  generosity." 

'•Thou  alludest  to  some  one,"  said  the  governor,  **and  1 
charge  thee,  Gilbert,  to  be  plain  and  sincere  with  me.  Thou 
knowest,  methinks,  that  in  trusting  me  thou  wilt  come  to 
no  harm  ?  ** 


398  WAVER  LEY  NOVELS 

"It  is  true — it  is  true,  sir,"  said  the  old  remnant  of  th( 
wars,  carrying  his  hand  to  his  brow  ;  "  but  it  were  imnrudent 
to  communicate  all  the  remarks  which  float  through  an  old 
man's  brain  in  the  idle  moments  of  such  a  garrison  as  this. 
One  stumbles  unawares  on  fantasies  as  well  as  realities,  and 
thus  one  gets,  not  altogether  undeservedly,  the  character  of 
a  talebearer  and  mischief-maker  among  his  comrades,  and 
methinks  I  would  not  willingly  fall  under  that  accusation." 

"  Speak  frankly  to  me,"  answered  De  Walton,  "and  have 
no  fear  of  being  misconstrued,  whosoever  the  conversation 
may  concern." 

*'  Nay  in  plain  truth,"  answered  Gilbert,  "  I  fear  not  the 
greatness  of  this  young  knight,  heing,  as  I  am,  the  oldest 
soldier  in  the  garrison,  and  having  drawn  a  bowstring  long 
and  many  a  day  ere  he  was  weaned  from  his  nurse's  breast." 

"It  is  then,"  said  De  Walton,  "my  lieutenant  and  friend, 
Aymer  de  Valence,  at  whom  your  suspicions  point  ?  " 

"  At  nothing,"  replied  the  archer,  "  touching  the  honor  of 
the  young  knight  himself,  who  is  as  brave  as  the  sword  he 
wears,  and,  his  youth  considered,  stands  high  in  the  roll  of 
English  chivalry  ;  but  he  is  young,  as  your  worship  knows, 
and  I  own  that  in  the  choice  of  his  company  he  disturbs  and 
alarms  me." 

"Why,  you  know,  Greenleaf,"  answered  the  governor, 
*'  that  in  the  leisure  of  a  garrison  a  knight  cannot  always  con- 
fine his  sports  and  pleasures  among  those  of  his  own  rank, 
who  are  not  numerous,  and  may  not  be  so  gamesome  or  fond 
of  frolic  as  he  would  desire  them  to  be," 

"I  know  that  well,"  answered  the  archer,  "nor  would  I 
say  a  word  concerning  your  honor's  lieutenant  for  joining 
any  honest  fellows,  however  inferior  their  rank,  in  the  wrest- 
ling-ring or  at  a  bout  of  quarter  staff.  But  if  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence  has  a  fondness  for  martial  tales  of  former  days,  me- 
thinks he  had  better  learn  them  from  the  ancient  soldiers 
who  have  followed  Edward  the  First — whom  God  assoilzie  ' 
— and  who  have  known  before  his  time  the  barons'  wars  and 
other  onslaughts,  in  which  the  knights  and  archers  of  Merry 
England  transmitted  so  many  gallant  actions  to  be  recorded 
by  fame  ;  this  truly,  I  say,  were  more  beseeming  the  Earl  of 
Pembroke's  nephew  than  to  see  him  closet  himself  day  after 
day  with  a  strolling  minstrel,  who  gains  his  livelihood  by 
reciting  nonsense  and  lies  to  such  young  men  as  are  fond 
enough  to  believe  him,  of  whom  hardly  any  one  knows 
whether  he  be  English  or  Scottish  in  his  opinions,  and  still 
less  can  any  one  pretend  to  say  whether  he  is  of  English  or 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  899 

Jcnttish  birth,  or  with  what  purpose  he  lies  lounging  about 
this  castle,  and  is  left  free  to  communicate  everything  which 
passes  within  it  to  those  old  mutterers  of  matins  at  St.  Bride's, 
wlio  say  with  their  tongues  'God  save  King  Edward,' but 
pray  in  their  hearts  '  (Jod  save  King  Robert  the  Bruce.' 
Such  a  communication  he  can  easily  carry  on  by  means  of  his 
son,  who  lies  at  St.  Bride's  cell,  as  your  M'orship  knows,  under 
pretense  of  illness." 

"How  do  you  say?"  exclaimed  the  governor — ''under 
pretense  ?     Is  he  not  then  really  indisposed  ?  " 

"  Nay,  he  may  be  sick  to  the  death  for  aught  I  know," 
said  the  archer  ;  "  but  if  so,  were  it  not  then  more  natural 
that  the  father  should  attend  his  son's  sick-bed  than  that  he 
should  be  ranging  about  this  castle,  where  one  eternally  meets 
him  in  the  old  baron's  study,  or  in  some  corner,  where  you 
least  expect  to  find  him  ?  " 

"  If  he  has  no  lawful  object,"  replied  the  knight,  "  it  might 
be  as  you  say ;  but  he  is  said  to  be  in  quest  of  ancient  poems 
or  prophecies  of  Merlin,  of  the  Rhymer,  or  some  other  old 
bard  ;  and  in  truth  it  is  natural  for  him  to  wish  to  enlarge 
his  stock  of  knowledge  and  power  of  giving  amusement,  and 
where  should  he  find  the  means  save  in  a  study  filled  with 
ancient  books  ?" 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  the  archer,  with  a  sort  of  dry,  civil 
sneer  of  incredulity  ;  "  I  have  seldom  known  an  insurrection 
in  Scotland  but  that  it  was  prophesied  by  some  old  forgotten 
rhyme,  conjured  out  of  dust  and  cobwebs,  for  the  sake  of 
giving  courage  to  those  North  Country  rebels  who  durst  not 
otherwise  have  abiden  the  whistling  of  the  gray-goose  shaft; 
but  curled  heads  are  hasty,  and,  with  license,  even  your  own 
train,  sir  knight,  retains  too  much  of  the  fire  of  youth  for 
such  uncertain  times  as  the  present." 

"Thou  hast  convinced  me,  Gilbert  Greenleaf,  and  I  will 
look  into  this  man's  business  and  occupation  more  closely 
than  hitherto.  This  is  no  time  to  peril  the  safety  of  a  royal 
castle  for  the  sake  of  affecting  generosity  towards  a  man  of 
whom  we  know  so  little,  and  to  whom,  till  we  receive  a  very 
full  explanation,  we  may,  without  doing  him  injustice,  attach 
grave  suspicious.  Is  he  now  in  the  apartment  called  the 
baron's  study  ?" 

"  Your  worship  will  be  certain  to  find  him  there,"  replied 
Greenleaf. 

"  Then  follow  me,  with  two  or  three  of  thy  comrades,  and 
keep  out  of  sight,  but  within  hearing  :  it  may  be  necessary 
to  arrest  this  man." 


400  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

'' My  assistance,"  said  the  old  archer,  "shall  be  at  hand 
when  you  call,  but " 

''  But  what  ?"  said  the  knight ;  "  I  hope  I  am  not  to  find 
doubts  and  disobedience  on  all  hands  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not  on  mine,"  repliod  Greenleaf  ;  "  I  would 
only  remind  your  worshij)  that  what  I  have  said  was  a  sincere 
opinion  expressed  in  answer  to  your  worship's  question,  and 
that,  as  Sir  Aymcr  de  Valence  has  avowed  himself  the  patron 
of  this  man,  I  would  not  willingly  be  left  to  the  hazard  of 
his  revenge." 

"  Pshaw  ! "  answered  De  Walton,  "  is  Aymer  de  Valence 
governor  of  this  castle  or  am  I  ?  or  to  whom  do  yon  imagine 
you  are  responsible  for  answering  such  questions  as  I  may 
put  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  archer,  secretly  not  "".ispleased  at  seeing 
De  Walton  show  some  little  jealousy  of  his  own  authority, 
"  believe  me,  sir  knight,  that  I  know  my  own  station  and 
your  worship's,  and  that  I  am  not  now  to  be  told  to  whom  I 
owe  obedience." 

"  To  the  study  then,  and  let  us  find  the  man,''  said  the 
governor. 

"  A  fine  matter  indeed,"  subjoined  Greenleaf,  following 
him,  '•'  that  your  worship  should  have  to  go  in  person  to  look 
after  the  arrest  of  so  mean  an  individual.  But  your  honor 
is  right :  these  minstrels  are  often  jugglers,  and  possess  the 
power  of  making  their  escape  by  means  which  borrel  folk 
like  myself  are  disposed  to  attribute  to  necromancy." 

Without  attending  to  these  last  words.  Sir  John  de  Walton 
set  forth  towards  the  study,  walking  at  a  quick  pace,  as  if 
this  conversation  had  augmented  his  desire  to  find  himself 
in  possession  of  the  person  of  the  suspected  minstrel. 

Traversing  the  ancient  passages  of  the  castle,  the  governor 
had  no  difficulty  in  reaching  the  study,  which  was  strongly 
vaulted  with  stone,  and  furnished  with  a  sort  of  iron  cabinet, 
intended  for  the  preservation  of  articles  and  papers  of  value, 
in  case  of  fire.  Here  he  found  the  minstrel  seated  at  a  small 
table,  sustaining  before  him  a  manuscript,  apparently  of 
great  antiquity,  from  which  he  seemed  engaged  in  making 
extracts.  The  windows  of  the  room  Avere  very  small,  and 
still  showed  some  traces  that  tliey  had  originally  been 
glazed  with  a  painted  history  of  St.  IBride— another  mark  of 
the  devotion  of  the  great  family  of  Douglas  to  their  tutelar 
saint. 

The  minstrel,  who  had  seemed  deeply  wrapped  in  the  con- 
templation of  his  task,  on  being  disturbed  by  the  uulooked< 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  401 

for  entrance  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  rose  with  every  mark 
of  respect  and  humility,  and,  remaining  standing  in  the 
governor's  presence,  appeared  to  wait  for  his  interrogations, 
as  if  he  had  anticipated  that  the  visit  concerned  himself 
particularly. 

"  I  am  to  suppose,  sir  minstrel,"  said  Sir  John  de  "Walton, 
"  that  you  have  been  successful  in  your  search,  and  have 
found  the  roll  of  poetry  or  prophecies  that  you  proposed  to 
seek  after  amongst  these  broken  shelves  and  tattered 
volumes  ?  " 

"More  successful  than  I  could  have  expected,'' replied  the 
minstrel,  "  considering  the  effects  of  the  conflagration. 
This,  sir  knight,  is  apparently  the  fatal  volume  for  which  I 
sought,  and  strange  it  is,  considering  the  heavy  chance  of 
other  books  contained  in  this  library,  that  I  have  been  able 
to  find  a  few,  though  imperfect,  fragments  of  it.*' 

"  Since,  therefore,  you  have  been  permitted_  to  indulge 
your  curiosity,"'  said  the  governor,  ''I  trust,  minstrel,  you 
will  have  no  objection  to  satisfy  mine  ?" 

The  minstrel  replied  with  the  same  humility,  "_that,_  if 
there  was  anything  within  the  poor  compass  of  his  skill  which 
could  gratify  Sir  John  de  Walton  in  any  degree,  he  would 
but  reach  his  lute  and  presently  obey  his  commands/' 

"You  mistake,  sir,"  said  Sir  John,  somewhat  harshly. 
"  I  am  none  of  those  Avho  have  hours  to  spend  in  listening 
to  tales  or  music  of  former'days:  my  life  has  hardly  given 
me  time  enough  for  learning  the  duties  of  my  profession, 
far  less  has  it  allowed  me  leisure  for  such  twangling  follies. 
I  care  not  who  knows  it,  but  my  ear  is  so  incapable  of  judg- 
ing of  your  art,  which  you  doubtless  think  a  noble  one, 
that  I  can  scarcely  tell  the  modulation  of  one  tune  from 
another." 

"In  that  case,"  replied  the  minstrel,  composedly,  "I 
can  hardly  promise  myself  the  pleasure  of  affording  your 
worship  the  amusement  which  I  might  otherwise  have  done." 

"  JSTor  do  I  look  for  any  at  your  hand,"  said  the  governor, 
advancing  a  step  nearer  to  him,  and  speaking  in  a  sterner 
tone.  "  I  want  information,  sir,  which  I  am  assured  you 
can  give  me,  if  you  incline  ;  and  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you 
that,  if  you  show  unwillingness  to  speak  the  truth,  I  know 
means  by  which  it  will  become  my  painful  duty  to  extort 
it  in  a  more  disagreeable  manner  than  I  would  wish/' 

"  If  your  questions,  sir  knight/'  answered  Bertram,  "be 
such  as  I  can  or  ought  to  answer,  tliere  shall  be  no  occasion 
to  put  them  more  than  once.  If  they  are  such  as  I  cannot 
26 


402  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

or  ought  not  to  reply  to,  believe  me  that  no  threats  of  vio- 
lence will  extort  an  answer  from  me." 

"You  speak  boldly/'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton;  "but 
take  my  word  for  it,  that  your  courage  will  be  put  to  the 
test.  I  am  as  little  fond  of  proceeding  to  such  extremities 
as  you  can  be  of  undergoing  them,  but  such  will  be  the 
natural  consequence  of  your  own  obstinacy.  I  therefore  ask 
you,  whether  Bertram  be  your  real  name  ;  whether  you 
have  any  other  profession  than  that  of  a  traveling  min- 
strel and,  hastily,  whether  you  have  any  acquaintance  or 
connection  with  any  Englishman  or  Scottishman  beyond 
the  walls  of  this  Castle  of  Douglas  ?  " 

"  To  these  questions,"  replied  the  minstrel,  "  I  have  al- 
ready answered  the  worshipful  knight.  Sir  Aymerde  Valence, 
and,  having  fully  satisfied  him,  it  is  not,  I  conceive,  nec- 
cessary  that  I  should  undergo  a  second  examination  ;  nor  is 
it  consistent  either  with  your  worship's  honor  or  that  of  the 
lieutenant-governor  that  such  a  re-examination  should  take 
place." 

"  You  are  very  considerate,"  replied  the  governor,  "  of 
my  honor  and  of  that  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence.  Take  my 
word  for  it,  they  are  both  in  perfect  safety  in  our  own  keep- 
ing, and  may  dispense  with  your  attention,  I  ask  you,  will 
you  answer  the  inquiries  which  it  is  my  duty  to  make,  or  am 
I  to  enforce  obedience  by  putting  you  under  the  penalties 
of  the  question  ?  I  have  already,  it  is  my  duty  to  say,  seen 
the  answers  you  have  returned  to  my  lieutenant,  and  they 
do  not  satisfy  me." 

He  at  the  same  time  clapped  his  hands,  and  two  or  three 
archers  showed  themselves,  stripped  of  their  tunics,  and  only 
attired  in  their  shirts  and  hose. 

"I  understand,"  said  the  minstrel,  "that  you  intend  to 
inflict  upon  me  a  punishment  which  is  foreign  to  the  genius 
of  the  English  laws,  in  that  no  proof  is  adduced  of  my 
guilt,  I  have  already  told  that  I  am  by  birth  an  English- 
man, by  profession  a  minstrel,  and  that  I  am  totally  uncon- 
nected with  any  person  likely  to  nourish  any  design  against 
this  Castle  of  Douglas,  Sir  John  de  Walton,  or  his  gar- 
rison. What  answers  you  may  extort  from  me  by  bodily 
agony,  I  cannot,  to  speak  as  a  plain-dealing  Christian,  hold 
myself  responsible  for.  I  think  that  I  can  endure  as  much 
pain  as  any  one  ;  I  am  sure  that  I  never  yet  felt  a  degree  of 
agony  that  I  would  not  willingly  prefer  to  breaking  my 
plighted  word,  or  becoming  a  false  informer  against  inno- 
cent  persons  ;  but  I  own  I  do  not  know  the  extent  to  which 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  403 

the  art  of  torture  may  be  carried  ;  and  though  I  do  not 
fear  you.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  yet  I  must  acknowledge  that 
I  fear  myself,  since  I  know  not  to  what  extremity  your 
cruelty  may  be  capable  of  subjecting  me,  or  how  far  I  may 
be  enabled  to  bear  it.  I,  therefore,  in  the  first  place,  pro- 
test that  I  shall  in  no  manner  be  liable  for  any  words  which 
I  may  utter  in  the  course  of  any  examination  enforced  from 
me  by  torture  ;  and  you  must  therefore  under  such  circum- 
stances, proceed  to  the  execution  of  an  office  which,  permit 
me  to  say.  is  hardly  that  which  I  expected  to  have  found 
thus  administered  by  an  accomplished  knight  like  yourself." 

"  Hark  you,  sir,"  replied  the  governor,  "'  you  and  I  are 
at  issue,  and  in  doing  my  duty  I  ought  instantly  to  proceed 
to  the  extremities  1  have  threatened  ;  but  perhaps  you  your- 
self feel  less  reluctance  to  undergo  the  examination  as  pro- 
posed than  I  shall  do  in  commanding  it  :  I  will  therefore 
consign  you  for  the  present  to  a  place  of  confinement  suit- 
able to  one  who  is  suspected  of  being  a  spy  upon  this  for- 
tress. Until  you  are  pleased  to  remove  such  suspicions, 
your  lodgings  and  nourishment  are  those  of  a  prisoner.  In 
the  meantime,  before  subjecting  you  to  the  question,  take 
notice,  I  will  myself  ride  to  the  abbey  of  St.  Bride,  and 
satisfy  myself  whether  the  young  person  whom  you  would 
pass  as  your  son  is  possessed,  of  the  same  determination  as 
that  which  you  yourself  seem  to  assert.  It  may  so  happen 
that  his  examination  and  yours  may  throw  such  light  upon 
each  other  as  will  decidedly  prove  either  your  guilt  or  inno- 
cence, without  its  being  confirmed  by  the  use  of  the  extraor- 
dinary question.  If  it  be  otherwise,  tremble  for  your 
son's  sake,  if  not  for  your  own.  Have  I  shaken  you,  sir  ; 
or  do  you  fear  for  your  boy's  young  sinews  and  joints  the 
engines  which,  in  your  own  case,  you  seem  willing  to  defy  ?  " 

"Sir,"  answered  the  minstrel,  recovering  from  the 
momentary  emotion  he  had  shown,  "I  leave  it  to  yourself, 
as  a  man  of  honor  and  candor,  whether  you  ought,  in  com- 
mon fairness,  to  form  a  worse  opinion  of  any  man  because 
he  is  not  unwilling  to  incur  in  liis  own  person  severities 
which  he  would  not  desire  to  be  inflicted  upon  his  child,  a 
sickly  youth,  just  recovering  from  a  dangerous  disease." 

"  it  is  my  duty,"  answered  De  Walton,  after  a  short 
pause,  "  to  leave  no  stone  unturned  by  which  this  business 
may  be  traced  to  the  source  ;  and  if  thou  desirest  mercy  for 
thy  son,  thou  wilt  thyself  most  easily  attain  it  by  setting 
him  the  example  of  honesty  and  plain- dealing." 

The  minstrel  threw  himself  back  on  the  seat,  as  if  fully 


i04  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

resolved  to  bear  every  extremity  that  could  be  inflictedj 
rather  than  make  any  farther  answer  than  lie  had  already 
offered.  Sir  John  de  Walton  himself  seemed  in  some  degree 
uncertain  what  might  now  be  his  best  course.  He  felt  an 
invincible  repugnance  to  proceed,  without  due  considera- 
tion, in  what  most  people  would  have  deemed  the  direct 
line  of  his  duty,  by  inflicting  the  torture  both  upon  father 
and  son  ;  but  deep  as  was  his  sense  of  devotion  towards  the 
King,  and  numerous  as  were  the  hopes  and  expectations  he 
had  formed  upon  the  strict  discharge  of  his  present  high 
trust,  he  could  not  resolve  upon  having  recourse  at  once  to 
this  cruel  method  of  cutting  the  knot.  Bertram's  appear- 
ance was  venerable,  and  his  power  of  words  not  unworthy 
of  his  aspect  and  bearing.  The  governor  remembered  that 
Aymer  de  Valence,  whose  judgment  in  general  it  was  im- 
possible to  deny,  had  described  him  as  one  of  those  rare  in- 
dividuals who  vindicated  the  honor  of  a  corrupted  profession 
by  their  personal  good  behavior  ;  and  he  acknowledged  to 
himself  that  there  was  gross  cruelty  and  injustice  in  refusing 
to  admit  the  prisoner  to  the  credit  of  being  a  true  and  honest 
man  until,  by  way  of  proving  his  rectitude,  he  had  strained 
every  sinew  and  crushed  every  joint  in  his  body,  as  well  as 
those  of  his  son.  "1  have  no  touchstone,"  he  said  in- 
ternally, "  which  can  distinguish  truth  from  falsehood.  The 
Bruce  and  his  followers  are  on  the  alert :  he  has  certainly 
equipped  the  galleys  which  lay  at  Rachrin  during  winter. 
This  story,  too,  of  Greenleaf,  about  arms  being  procured  for 
a  new  insurrection,  tallies  strangely  with  the  appearance  of 
that  savage-looking  forester  at  the  hunt ;  and  all  tends  to 
show  that  something  is  upon  the  anvil  which  it  is  my  duty 
to  provide  against.  I  will,  therefore,  pass  over  no  circum- 
stance by  which  I  can  affect  the  mind  through  hope  or  fear ; 
but,  please  God  to  give  me  light  from  any  other  source,  I 
will  not  think  it  lawful  to  torment  these  unfortunate,  and, 
it  may  yet  be,  honest,  men."  He  accordingly  took  his  de- 
parture from  the  library,  whispering  a  word  to  Greenleaf 
respecting  the  prisoner. 

He  had  reached  the  outward  door  of  the  study,  and  his 
satellites  had  already  taken  the  minstrel  into  their  grasp, 
when  the  voice  of  the  old  man  was  heard  calling  upon  De 
Walton  to  return  for  a  single  moment. 

"  What  hast  thou  to  say,  sir  ?"  said  the  governor.  "  Be 
speedy,  for  I  have  already  lost  more  time  in  listening  to  thee 
than  I  am  answerable  for,  and  so  I  advise  thee  for  thine  own 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  405 

"I  advise  thee,"  said  the  minstrel,  "for  thine  own  sake. 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  to  beware  how    tliou  dost   insist  on  tliy 

f (resent  purpose,  by  which  thou  thyself  alone,  of  ail  men 
iving,  will  most  severely  suffer.  If  thou  harmest  a  hair  of 
that  young  man's  head — nay,  if  thou  permittest  him  to 
undergo  any  privation  which  it  is  in  thy  power  to  prevent — 
thou  wilt,  in  doing  so,  prepare  for  thine  own  suffering  a  de- 
gree of  agony  more  acute  than  anything  else  in  this  mortal 
world  could  cause  thee.  I  swear  by  the  most  blessed  objects 
of  our  holy  religion,  I  call  to  witness  that  holy  sepulcher, 
of  which  I  have  been  an  unworthy  visitor,  that  I  speak 
nothing  but  the  truth,  and  that  thou  wilt  one  day  testify 
thy  gratitude  for  the  part  I  am  now  acting.  It  is  my  in- 
terest, as  well  as  yours,  to  secure  you  in  the  safe  possession 
of  this  castle,  although  assuredly  I  know  some  things  re- 
specting it,  and  respecting  your  worship,  Avhich  I  nni  not  at 
liberty  to  tell  without  the  consent  of  that  youth.  Bring  me 
but  a'^  note  under  his  hand,  consenting  to  my  taking  you 
into  our  mystery,  and  believe  me,  you  will  soon  see  those 
clouds  charmed  away  ;  since  there  was  never  a  doleful  uncer- 
tainty which  more  speedily  changed  to  joy,  or  a  thunder- 
cloud of  adversity  which  more  instantly  gave  way  to  sun- 
shine, than  would  then  the  suspicions  which  appear  now  so 
formidable." 

He  spoke  with  so  much  earnestness  as  to  make  some  im- 
pression upon  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who  was  once  more 
wholly  at  a  loss  to  know  what  line  his  duty  called  upon  him 
to  pursue. 

"I  would  most  gladly,"  said  the  governor,  "follow  out 
my  purpose  by  the  gentlest  means  in  my  power,  and  I  shall 
bring  no  further  distress  upon  this  poor  lad  than  thine  own 
obstinacy  and  his  shall  appear  to  deserve.  In  the  meantime, 
think,  sir  minstrel,  that  my  duty  has  limits,  and  if  I  slack 
it  for  a  day,  it  will  become  thee  to  exert  every  effort  in  thy 
power  to  meet  my  condescension.  [  will  give  thee  leave  to 
address  thy  son  by  a  line  under  thy  hand,  and  I  will  await 
his  answer  before  I  proceed  farther  in  this  matter,  which 
seems  to  be  very  mysterious.  Meantime,  if  thou  hast  a  soul 
to  be  saved,  I  conjure  thee  to  speak  the  truth,  and  tell  me 
whether  the  secrets  of  which  thou  seemest  to  be  a  too 
faithful  treasurer  have  regard  to  the  practises  of  Douglas, 
of  Bruce,  or  of  any  in  their  names,  against  this  Castle  of 
Douglas  ?" 

The  prisoner  thought  a  moment,  and  then  replied — "  lam 
aware,  sir  knight,  of  the   severe  charge  under  which  this 


406  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

command  is  entrusted  to  your  hands,  and  were  it  in  my 
power  to  assist  you,  as  a  faithful  minstrel  and  loyal  subject, 
either  with  hand  or  tongue,  I  should  feel  myself  called  upon 
so  to  do  ;  but  so  far  am  I  from  being  the  character  your  suspi- 
cious have  apprehended,  that  I  should  have  held  it  for  certain 
that  the  Bruce  and  Douglas  had  assembled  their  followers, 
for  the  purpose  of  renouncing  their  rebellious  attempts,  and 
taking  their  departure  for  the  Holy  Land,  but  for  the  appari- 
tion of  the  forester  who,  I  hear,  bearded  you  at  the  hunting, 
which  impressed  upon  me  the  belief  that,  when  so  resolute 
a  follower  and  henchman  of  the  Douglas  was  sitting  fearless 
among  you,  his  master  and  comrades  could  be  at  no  great 
distance.  How  far  his  intentions  could  be  friendly  to  you, 
I  must  leave  it  to  yourself  to  judge  ;  only  believe  me  thus 
far,  that  the  rack,  pulley,  or  pincers  would  not  have  com- 
pelled me  to  act  the  informer,  or  adviser,  in  a  quarrel  wherein 
I  have  little  or  no  share,  if  I  had  not  been  desirous  of  fixing 
the  belief  upon  you  that  you  are  dealing  with  a  true  man, 
and  one  who  has  your  welfare  at  heart.  Meanwhile,  permit 
me  to  have  writing-materials,  or  let  my  own  be  restored,  for 
I  possess,  in  some  degree,  the  higher  arts  of  my  calling  ;  nor 
do  I  fear  but  that  I  can  procure  for  you  an  explanation  of 
these  marvels,  without  much  more  loss  of  time." 

"^  God  grant  it  prove  so,"  said  the  governor;  "though  I 
see  not  well  how  I  can  hope  for  so  favorable  a  termination, 
and  I  may  sustain  great  harm  by  trusting  too  much  on  the 
present  occasion.  My  duty,  however,  requires  that,  in  the 
meantime,  you  be  removed  into  strict  confinement." 

He  handed  to  the  prisoner  as  he  spoke  the  writing- 
materials,  which  had  been  seized  upon  by  the  archers  on  their 
first  entrance,  and  then  commanded  these  satellites  to  un- 
liand  the  minstrel. 

"I  must,  then,"  said  Bertram,  ''remain  subjected  to  all 
the  severities  of  a  strict  captivity  ?  But  I  deprecate  no  hard- 
ship whatever  in  my  own  person,  so  I  may  secure  you  from 
acting  with  a  degree  of  rashness  of  which  you  will  all  your 
life  repent,  without  the  means  of  atoning." 

"  No  more  words,  minstrel,"  said  the  governor  ;  "  but 
since  I  have  made  my  choice,  perhaps  a  very  dangerous  one 
for  myself,  let  us  carry  this  spell  into  execution,  which  thou 
sayest  is  to  serve  me,  as  mariners  say  that  oil  spread  upon 
the  raging  billows  will  assuage  their  fury." 


CHAPTER  IX 

Beware  !  beware  !  of  the  Black  Friar. 

He  still  retains  his  sway, 
For  lie  is  yet  the  church's  heir  by  right, 

Whoever  may  be  the  lay. 
Amundeville  is  lord  by  day, 

But  the  monk  is  lord  by  night, 
Nor  wine  nor  wassal  could  raise  a  vassal 

To  question  that  friar's  right. 

Don  Juan,  Canto  xvii. 

The  minstrel  made  no  vain  boast  of  the  skill  which  he  pos- 
sessed in  the  use  of  pen  and  ink.  In  fact,  no  priest  of  the 
time  could  have  produced  his  little  scroll  more  speedily, 
more  neatly  composed,  or  more  fairly  written,  than  were  the 
lines  addressed  "  To  the  youth  called  Augustine,  son  of 
Bertram  the  Minstrel." 

"I  have  not  folded  this  letter,"  said  he,  ''nor  tied  it 
with  silk,  for  it  is  not  expressed  so  as  to  explain  the  mystery 
to  you  ;  nor,  to  speak  frankly,  do  I  think  that  it  can  convey 
to  you  any  intelligence  ;  but  it  may  be  satisfactory  to  show 
you  what  the  letter  does  not  contain,  and  that  it  is  written 
from  and  to  a  person  who  both  mean  kindly  towards  you 
and  your  garrison." 

"  That,"  said  the  governor,  "  is  a  deception  which  is 
easily  practised  ;  it  tends,  however,  to  show,  though  not 
with  certainty,  that  you  are  disposed  to  act  upon  good  faith  ; 
and  until  the' contrary  appear,  I  shall  consider  it  a  point  of 
duty  to  treat  you  with  as  much  gentleness  as  the  matter 
admits  of.  Meantime,  I  will  myself  ride  to  the  abbey  of  St. 
Bride,  and  in  person  examine  the  young  prisoner  ;  and  as 
you  say  he  has  the  power  so  I  pray  to  Heaven  he  may  have 
the  will,  to  read  his  riddle,  which  seems  to  throw  us  all  into 
confusion."  So  saying,  he  ordered  his  horse,  and  while  it 
was  getting  ready,  he  perused  with  great  composure  the 
minstrel's  letter.     Its  contents  ran  thus  : — 

"Deae  Augustine — 

'*  Sir  John  de  Walton,  the  governor  of  this  castle, 
has  conceived  those  suspicions  which  I  have  pointed  out  ais 
407 


408  WA  VERLET  NOVELS 

likely  to  be  the  consequence  of  our  coming  to  this  country 
without  an  avowed  errand.  I  at  least  am  seized,  and  threat- 
ened with  examination  under  torture,  to  force  me  to  tell  the 
purpose  of  our  Journey  ;  but  they  shall  tear  my  flesh  from 
my  bones  ere  they  force  me  to  break  the  oath  which  I  have 
taken.  And  the  purport  of  this  letter  is  to  apprise  you  of 
the  danger  in  which  you  stand  of  being  placed  in  similiar 
3ircumstances,  unless  you  are  disposed  to  authorize  me  to 
make  the  discovery  to  this  knight  ;  but  on  this  subject 
you  have  only  to  express  your  own  wishes,  being  assured 
they  shall  be  in  every  respect  attended  to  by  your  devoted 

''  Bertram." 

This  letter  did  not  throw  the  smallest  light  upon  the 
mystery  of  the  writer.  The  governor  read  it  more  than  once, 
and  turned  it  repeatedly  in  his  hand,  as  if  he  had  hoped  by 
that  mechanical  process  to  draw  something  from  the  missive 
which  at  a  first  view  the  words  did  not  express  ;  but  as  no 
result  of  this  sort  appeared,  De  Walton  retired  tv>  the  hall, 
where  he  informed  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  that  he  ivas  going 
abroad  as  far  as  the  abbey  of  St.  Bride,  and  that  he  would 
be  obliged  by  his  taking  upon  hiia  the  duties  ol  governor 
during  his  absence.  Sir  Aymer,  of  course,  intimated  his 
acquiescence  in  the  charge  ;  and  the  state  of  disunion  in 
which  they  stood  to  each  other  permitted  no  further  expla- 
nation. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  at  the  dilapidated 
shrine,  the  abbot,  witli  trembling  haste,  made  it  his  business 
immediately  to  attend  the  commander  of  the  English  gar- 
rison, upon  whom,  for  the  present,  their  house  depended  for 
every  indulgence  they  experienced,  as  well  as  for  the 
subsistence  and  protection  necessary  to  them  in  so  perilous 
a  period.  Having  interrogated  this  old  man  respecting  the 
youth  residing  in  the  abbey,  De  Wilton  was  informed  that 
he  had  been  indisposed  since  left  there  by  his  father,  Ber- 
tram, a  minstrel.  It  appeared  to  the  abbot  that  his  indis- 
position might  be  of  that  contagious  kind  which,  at  that 
period  ravaged  the  English  Borders,  and  made  some  in- 
cursions into  Scotland,  where  it  afterwards  worked  a  fearful 
progress.  After  some  farther  conversation,  Sir  John  de 
Walton  put  into  the  abbot's  hand  the  letter  to  the  young 
person  under  the  roof  ;  on  delivering  which  to  Augustiue, 
the  reverend  father  was  charged  with  a  message  to  the 
English  governor  so  bold  that  he  was  afraid  to  be  the  bearer 
of  it.     It  signified  that  the  youth  could  not,  and  would  not, 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  4% 

at  that  moment  receive  the  English  knight ;  but  that,  if 
he  came  back  on  the  morrow  after  mass,  it  was  probable  he 
might  learn  something  of  what  was  requested. 

"  This  is  not  an  answer/'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  "  to  be 
sent  by  a  boy  like  this  to  a  person  in  my  charge  ;  and  me- 
thinks,  father  abbot,  you  consult  your  own  safety  but 
slenderly  in  delivering  such  an  insolent  message." 

The  abbot  trembled  under  the  folds  of  his  large  coarse 
habit ;  and  De  Walton,  imagining  that  his  discomposure  was 
the  consequence  of  guilty  fear,  called  upon  him  to  remember 
the  duties  which  he  owed  to  England,  the  benefits  which  he 
had  received  from  himself,  and  the  probable  consequence  of 
taking  part  in  a  pert  boy's  insolent  defiance  of  the  power  of 
the  governor  of  the  province. 

The  abbot  vindicated  himself  from  these  charges  with  the 
utmost  anxiety.  He  pledged  his  sacred  word  that  the  incon- 
siderate character  of  the  boy's  message  was  owing  to  the 
waywardness  arising  from  indisposition.  He  reminded  the 
governor  that,  as  a  Christian  and  an  Englishman,  he  had 
duties  to  observe  towards  the  community  of  St.  Bride,  which 
had  never  given  the  English  government  the  least  subject  of 
complaint.  As  he  spoke,  the  churchnuin  seemed  to  gather 
courage  from  the  immunities  of  his  order.  He  said  he  could 
not  permit  a  sick  boy,  who  had  taken  refuge  within  the 
sanctuary  of  the  church,  to  be  seized  or  subjected  to  any 
species  of  force,  unless  he  was  accused  of  a  specific  crime, 
capable  of  being  immediately  proved.  The  Douglasses,  a 
headstrong  race,  had,  in  former  days,  uniformly  resj^ected 
the  sanctuary  of  St.  Bride,  and  it  was  not  to  be  supposed 
that  the  King  of  England,  the  dutiful  and  obedient  child  of 
the  Church  of  Rome,  would  act  with  less  veneration  for  her 
rights  than  the  followers  of  a  usurper,  homicide,  and  excom- 
municated person  like  Robert  Bruce. 

Walton  was  considerably  shaken  with  this  remonstrance. 
He  knew  that,  in  the  circumstances  of  the  times,  the  Pope 
had  great  power  in  every  controversy  in  which  it  was  his 
pleasure  to  interfere.  He  knew  that,  even  in  the  dispute 
respecting  tbe  supremacy  of  Scotland,  his  Holiness  had  set 
up  a  claim  to  the  kingdom  which,  in  the  temper  of  the  times, 
might  perhaps  have  been  deemed  superior  both  to  that  of 
Robert  Bruce  and  that  of  Edward  of  England,  and  he  con- 
ceived his  monarch  would  give  liim  little  thanks  for  any  fresh 
embroilment  which  might  take  place  with  the  church. 
Moreover,  it  was  easy  to  place  a  watch,  so  as  to  prevent 
Augustine  from  escaping  during  the  night ;  and  on  the  fol- 


410  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

lowing  morning  he  would  be  still  as  effectually  in  the  power 
of  the  English  governor  as  if  he  were  seized  on  by  open  force 
at  the  present  moment.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  however,  so 
far  exerted  his  authority  over  the  abbot,  that  he  engaged,  in 
consideration  of  the  sanctuary  being  respected  for  this  space 
of  time,  that,  when  it  expired,  he  would  be  aiding  and  assist- 
ing with  his  spiritual  authority  to  surrender  the  youth,  should 
he  not  allege  a  sufficient  reason  to  the  contrary.  This  ar- 
rangement, which  appeared  still  to  flatter  the  governor  with 
the  prospect  of  an  easy  termination  of  this  troublesome  dis- 
pute, induced  him  to  grant  the  delay  which  Augustine 
rather  demanded  than  petitioned  for. 

''At  your  request,  father  abbot,  whom  I  have  hitherto 
found  a  true  man,  I  will  indulge  this  youth  with  the  grace 
he  asks  before  taking  him  into  custody,  understanding  that 
he  shall  not  be  permitted  to  leave  this  place  ;  and  thou  art 
to  be  responsible  to  this  effect,  giving  thee,  as  is  reasonable, 
power  to  command  our  little  garrison  at  Hazelside,  to  which 
I  will  send  a  reinforcement  on  my  return  to  the  castle,  in 
case  it  should  be  necessary  to  use  the  strong  hand,  or  cir- 
cumstances impose  upon  me  other  measures." 

"  Worthy  sir  knight,"  replied  the  abbot,  "  I  have  no  idea 
that  the  frowardness  of  this  youth  will  render  any  coursp 
necessary  saving  that  of  persuasion  ;  and  I  venture  to  say 
that  yoii  yourself  will  in  the  highest  degree  approve  of  the 
method  in  which  I  shall  acquit  myself  of  my  present  trust." 

The  abbot  went  through  the  duties  of  hospitality,  enumer- 
ating what  simple  cheer  tlie  cloister  of  the  convent  permitted 
him  to  offer  to  the  English  knight.  Sir  John  de  Walton  de- 
clined the  offer  of  refreshment,  however,  took  a  courteous 
leave  of  the  churchman,  and  did  not  spare  his  horse  until 
the  noble  animal  had  brought  him  again  before  the  Castle  of 
Douglas. 

Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  met  him  on  the  drawbridge,  and  re- 
ported the  state  of  the  garrison  to  be  the  same  in  which  he 
had  left  it,  excepting  that  intimation  had  been  received  that 
twelve  or  fifteen  men  were  expected  on  their  way  to  the  town 
of  Lanark  ;  and  being  on  march  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Ayr,  would  that  night  take  up  their  quarters  at  the  outpost 
of  Hazelside. 

*'  I  am  glad  of  it,"  replied  the  governor  :  "  I  was  about  to 
strengthen  that  detachment.  This  stripling,  the  son  of 
Bertram  the  minstrel,  or  whoever  he  is,  has  engaged  to  de- 
liver himself  up  for  examination  in  the  morning.  As  this 
party  of  soldiers  are  followers  of  your  uncle.  Lord  Pembroke, 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  411 

may  I  request  you  will  ride  to  meet  them,  and  command 
them  to  remain  at  Hazelside  until  you  make  farther  inquiries 
about  this  youth,  who  has  still  to  clear  up  the  mystery 
which  hangs  about  him,  and  reply  to  a  letter  which  I  de- 
livered with  my  own  hand  to  the  abbot  of  Sc.  Bride.  I  have 
shown  too  much  forbearance  in  this  matter,  and  I  trust  to 
your  looking  to  the  security  of  this  young  man,  and  convey 
[ing]  him  hither,  with  all  due  care  and  attention,  as  being 
a  prisoner  of  some  importance." 

"Certainly,  Sir  John,"  answered  Sir  Aymer  ;  "your  or- 
ders shall  be  obeyed,  since  you  have  none  of  greater  impor- 
tance for  one  who  hath  the  honor  to  be  second  only  to  your- 
self in  this  place." 

"  I  crave  your  mercy.  Sir  Aymer,"  returned  the  governor. 
*'if  the  commission  be  in  any  degree  beneath  your  dignity  ; 
but  it  is  our  misfortune  to  misunderstand  each  other,  whea 
we  endeavor  to  be  most  intelligible." 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do,"  said  Sir  Aymer — "  no  way  dis- 
puting yorr  command,  but  only  asking  for  information — 
what  am  I  to  do,  if  the  abbot  of  St.  Bride  offers  opposi- 
tion ?" 

"  How  !  "  answered  Sir  John  de  Walton  ;  *'  with  the  rein- 
forcement from  my  Lord  of  Pembroke,  you  will  command 
at  least  twenty  war-men,  with  bow  and  spear,  against  five 
or  six  timid  old  monks,  with  only  gown  and  hood." 

"True,"  said  Sir  Aymer,  "but  ban  and  excommunication 
are  sometimes,  in  the  present  day,  too  hard  for  the  mail 
coat,  and  I  would  not  willingly  be  thrown  out  of  the  pale  of 
the  Christian  church," 

"  Well,  then,  thou  very  suspicious  and  scrupulous  young 
man,"  replied  De  Walton,  "  know  that,  if  this  youth  does 
not  deliver  himself  up  to  thee  of  his  own  accord,  the  abbot 
has  promised  to  put  him  into  thy  hands." 

There  was  no  farther  answer  to  be  made,  and  De  Valence, 
though  still  thinking  himself  unnecessarily  harassed  with 
the  charge  of  a  petty  commission,  took  the  sort  of  half-arms 
which  were  always  used  when  the  knights  stirred  beyond 
the  walls  of  the  garrison,  and  proceeded  to  execute  the  com- 
mands of  De  Walton.  A  horseman  or  two,  together  with 
his  squire  Fabian,  accompanied  him. 

The  evening  closed  in  with  one  of  those  Scottish  mists 
which  are  commonly  said  to  be  equal  to  the  showers  of  hap- 
pier climates  ;  the  path  became  more  and  more  dark,  the 
hills  more  wreathed  in  vapors,  and  more  difficult  to  traverse  ; 
and  all  the  little  petty  inconveniences  which  rendered  trav- 


412  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

eling  through  the  district  slow  and  uncertain  were  aug- 
mented by  the  density  of  the  fog  which  overhung  everything. 

Sir  Aymer,  therefore,  occasionally  mended  his  pace,  and 
often  incurred  the  fate  of  one  who  is  over-late,  delaying 
himself  by  his  efforts  to  make  greater  expedition.  The 
knight  bethought  himself  that  he  would  get  into  a  straight 
road  by  passing  through  the  almost  deserted  town  of  Dong- 
las,  the  inhabitants  of  which  had  been  treated  so  severely  by 
the  English,  in  the  course  of  those  fierce  troubles,  that  most 
of  them  who  were  capable  of  bearing  arms  had  left  it,  and 
withdrawn  themselves  to  different  parts  of  the  country, 
This  almost  deserted  place  was  defended  by  a  rude  palisade, 
and  a  ruder  drawbridge,  which  gave  entrance  into  streets  so 
narrow  as  to  admit  with  difficulty  three  horses  abreast,  and 
evincing  with  what  strictness  the  ancient  lords  of  the  village 
adhered  to  their  prejudice  against  fortifications,  and  their 
opinion  in  favor  of  keeping  the  field,  so  quaintly  expressed 
in  the  well-known  proverb  of  the  family — "It  is  better  to 
hear  the  lark  sing  than  the  mouse  cheep,"  The  streets,  or 
rather  the  lanes,  were  dark  but  for  a  shifting  gleam  of  moon- 
light, which,  as  that  planet  began  to  rise,  was  now  and  then 
visible  upon  some  steep  and  narrow  gable.  No  sound  of 
domestic  industry  or  domestic  festivity  was  heard,  and  no 
ray  of  candle  or  firelight  glanced  from  the  windows  of  the 
houses  :  the  ancient  ordinance  called  the  curfew,  which  the 
Conqueror  had  introduced  into  England,  was  at  this  time  in 
full  force  in  such  parts  of  Scotland  as  were  thought  doubt- 
ful, and  likely  to  rebel,  under  which  description  it  need  not 
be  said  the  ancient  possessions  of  the  Douglas  were  most  es- 
pecially regarded.  The  church,  whose  Grothic  monuments 
were  of  a  magnificent  character,  had  been,  as  far  as  pospi- 
ble,  destroyed  by  fire  ;  but  the  ruins,  held  together  by  the 
weight  of  "the  massive  stones  of  which  they  were  composed, 
still  sufficiently  evinced  the  greatness  of  the  family  at  whose 
cost  it  had  been  raised,  and  whose  bones,  from  immemorial 
time,  had  been  entombed  in  its  crypts. 

Paying  little  attention  to  these  relics  of  departed  splen- 
dor. Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  advanced  with  his  small  detach- 
ment, and  had  passed  the  scattered  fragments  of  the  cem- 
etery of  the  Douglasses,  when,  to  his  surprise,  the  noise  of 
his  horse's  feet  was  seemingly  replied  to  by  sounds  which 
rung  like  those  of  another  knightly  steed  advancing  heavily 
up  the  street,  as  if  it  were  to  meet  him.  Valence  was  un- 
able to  conjecture  what  might  be  the  cause  of  these  warlike 
sounds ;  the  ring  and  the  clang  of  armor  was  distinct,  and 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  413 

tlie  heavy  tramp  of  a  war-hcrse  was  not  to  be  mistaken  bj 
the  ear  of  a  warrior.  The  difficulty  of  keeping  soldiers  from 
straying  out  of  quarters  by  night  would  have  sufficiently 
accounted  for  the  appearance  of  a  straggling  foot-soldier ; 
but  it  was  more  difficult  to  account  for  a  mounted  horse- 
man, in  full  armor  ;  and  such  was  the  apparition  which  a 
peculiarly  bright  glimpse  of  moonlight  now  showed  at  the 
bottom  of  the  causewayed  hill.  Perhaps  the  unknown  war- 
rior obtained  at  the  same  time  a  glance  of  Aymer  de  Valence 
and  his  armed  followers — at  least  each  of  them  siiouted, 
"  Who  goes  there  ?"  the  alarm  of  the  times  ;  and  on  the  in- 
stant the  deep  answers  of  ''  St.  George  I"  on  the  one  side, 
and  "The  Douglas !"  on  the  other,  awakened  the  still 
echoes  of  the  small  and  ruinous  street,  and  the  silent  arches  of 
the  dilapidated  church.  Astonished  at  a  war-cry  with  which 
so  many  recollections  were  connected,  the  English  knight 
spurred  his  horse  at  full  gallop  down  the  steep  and  broken 
descent  leading  out  at  the  south  or  southeast  gate  of  the 
town  ;  and  it  was  the  work  of  an  instant  to  call  out,  "  Ho  ! 
St.  George  !  upon  the  insolent  villain  all  of  you  !  To  the 
gate,  Fabian,  and  cut  him  off  from  flight !  St.  George  !  I 
say,  for  England  !  Bows  and  bills — bows  and  bills  ! "  At 
the  same  time  Aymer  de  Valence  laid  in  rest  his  own  long 
lance,  which  he  snatched  from  the  squire  by  whom  it  was 
carried.  But  the  light  was  seen  and  gone  in  an  instant,  and 
though  De  Valence  concluded  that  the  hostile  Avarrior  had 
hardly  room  to  avoid  his  career,  yet  he  could  take  no  aim  for 
the  encounter,  unless  by  mere  guess,  and  continued  to 
plunge  down  the  dark  declivity,  among  shattered  stones  and 
other  encumbrances,  without  groping  out  with  his  lance  the 
object  of  his  pursuit.  He  rode,  in  short,  at  a  broken  gal- 
lop, a  descent  of  about  fifty  or  sixty  yards,  without  having 
any  reason  to  suppose  that  he  had  met  the  figure  which  had 
appeared  to  him,  although  the  narrowness  of  the  street 
scarcely  admitted  his  having  passed  him,  unless  both  horse 
and  horseman  could  have  melted  at  the  moment  of  encoun- 
ter like  an  air-bubble.  The  riders  of  his  suite,  meanwhile, 
were  struck  with  a  feeling  like  supernatural  terror,  which  a 
number  of  singular  adventures  had  caused  most  of  them  to 
attach  to  the  name  of  Douglas  ;  and  when  he  reached  the 
gate  by  which  the  broken  street  was  terminated,  there  was 
none  close  behind  him  but  Fabian,  in  whose  head  no  sug- 
gestions of  a  timorous  nature  could  outlive  the  sound  of  his 
dear  master's  voice. 

Here  there  was  a  post  of  English  archers,  who  were  turn 


414  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ing  out  in  considerable  alarm,  when  De  Valence  and  his 
page  rode  in  amongst  them.  "  Villains  ! "  shouted  De 
Valence,  "  why  were  ye  not  upon  your  duty  ?  Who  was  it 
passed  through  your  post  even  now,  with  the  traitorous  cry 
of  '  Douglas  ?'" 

"  We  know  of  no  such,"  said  the  captain  of  the  watch. 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  besotted  villains,"  answered  the 
young  knight,  "you  have  been  drinking,  and  have  slept  ?" 

The  men  protested  the  contrary,  but  in  a  confused  man- 
ner, which  was  far  from  overcoming  De  Valence's  suspicions. 
He  called  loudly  to  bring  cressets,  torches,  and  candles  ;  and 
a  few  remaining  inhabitants  began  to  make  their  unwilling 
appearance,  with  such  various  means  of  giving  light  as  they 
chanced  to  possess.  They  heard  the  story  of  the  young  Eng- 
lish knight  Avith  wonder  :  nor,  although  it  was  confirmed  by 
all  his  retinue,  did  they  give  credit  to  the  recital,  more  than 
that  the  Englishmen  wished  somehow  or  other  to  pick  a 
quarrel  with  the  people  of  the  place,  under  the  pretense  of 
their  having  admitted  a  retainer  of  their  ancient  lord  by 
night  into  the  town.  They  protested,  therefore,  their  in- 
nocence of  the  cause  of  tumult,  and  endeavored  to  seem  ac- 
tive in  hastening  from  house  to  house,  and  corner  to  corner, 
with  their  torches,  in  order  to  discover  the  invisible  cavalier. 
The  English  suspected  them  no  less  of  treachery  than  the 
Scottish  imagined  the  whole  matter  a  pretext  for  bringing 
an  accusation,  on  the  part  of  the  young  knight,  against  the 
citizens.  The  women,  however,  who  now  began  to  issue 
from  the  houses,  had  a  key  for  the  solution  of  the  appari- 
tion, which  at  that  time  was  believed  of  efficacy  sufficient  to 
solve  any  mystery.  "The  Devil,"  they  said,  "must  have 
appeared  visibly  amongst  them  " — an  explanation  which  had 
already  occurred  to  the  followers  of  the  young  knight ;  for 
that  a  living  man  and  horse,  both,  as  it  seemed,  of  a  gigan- 
tic size,  could  be  conjured  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
and  appear  in  a  street  secured  at  one  end  by  the  best  of  the 
archers,  and  at  the  other  by  the  horsemen  under  Valence 
himself,  was  altogether,  it  seemed,  a  thing  impossible.  The 
inhabitants  did  not  venture  to  put  their  thoughts  on  the 
subject  into  language,  for  fear  of  giving  offense,  and  only 
indicated  by  a  passing  word  to  each  other  the  secret  degree 
of  pleasure  which  they  felt  in  the  confusion  and  embarrass- 
ment of  the  English  garrison.  Still,  however,  they  con- 
tinued to  effect  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  tlie  alarm  which 
De  Valence  had  received,  and  the  anxiety  which  he  expressed 
to  discover  the  cause. 


CATTLE  DANGEROUS  4ir 

At  length  a  female  voice  spoke  above  the  babel  of  confused 
sounds,  saying,  "Where  is  the  Southron  knight  ?  I  am  sure 
that  I  can  tell  him  where  he  can  find  the  only  person  who  can 
help  him  out  of  his  present  difficulty." 

"  And  who  is  that,  good  woman  ?  "  said  Aymer  de  Valence, 
who  was  growing  every  moment  more  impatient  at  the  loss  of 
time,  which  was  flying  fast,  in  an  investigation  which  had 
something  in  it  vexatious,  and  even  ridiculous.  At  the  same 
time,  the  sight  of  an  armed  partizan  of  the  Douglasses,  in 
their  own  native  town,  seemed  to  bode  too  serious  conse- 
quences, if  it  should  be  suffered  to  pass  without  being  probed 
to  the  bottom. 

"  Come  hither  to  me,"  said  the  female  voice,  "  and  I  will 
name  to  you  tlie  only  person  who  can  explain  all  matters  of 
this  kind  that  chance  in  this  country."  On  this  tiie  knight 
snatched  a  torch  from  some  of  those  who  were  present,  and, 
holding  it  up,  desoried  the  person  who  spoke — a  tall  woman, 
who  evidently  endeavored  to  render  herself  remarkable. 
When  he  approached  her,  she  communicated  her  intelligence 
in  a  grave  and  sententious  tone  of  voice. 

''  We  had  once  wise  men  that  could  have  answered  any 
parables  which  might  have  been  put  to  them  for  exphxnatiou 
in  this  country-side.  Whether  you  yourselves,  gentlemen, 
have  not  had  some  hand  in  weeding  them  out,  good  troth,  it 
is  not  for  the  like  of  me  to  say  ;  at  any  rate,  good  counsel  is 
not  so  easy  come  by  as  it  was  in  this  Douglas  country,  nor, 
maybe,  is  it  a  safe  thing  to  pretend  to  the  power  of  giving 
it." 

"  Good  woman,"  said  De  Valance,  ''if  you  will  give  mean 
explanation  of  this  mystery,  I  will  owe  you  a  kirtle  of  the 
best  raploch  gray." 

"  It  is  not  I,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  that  pretend  to  possess 
the  knowledge  which  may  assist  you  ;  but  I  would  fain  know 
that  the  man  whom  I  shall  name  to  you  shall  be  scaithless 
and  harmless.  Upon  your  knighthood  and  your  honor,  will 
you  promise  to  me  so  much  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,"  said  De  Valance,  "  such  a  person  shall  even 
have  thanks  and  reward,  if  he  is  a  faithful  informer  ;  ay,  and 
pardon,  moreover,  although  he  may  liave  listened  to  any 
dangerous  practises,  or  been  concerned  in  any  plots." 

"  Oh  I  not  he,"  replied  the  female  ;  "it  is  old  Goodman 
Powheid,  who  has  tue  cnarge  of  the  muniments  (meaning 
probably  monuments) — that  is,  such  part  of  them  as  you 
English  have  left  standing  ;  I  mean  the  old  sexton  of  the  kir?; 
of  Douolas,  who  can  tell  more  stories  of  these  old  folk,  whom 


il6  WAVERLSr  IfOVELS 

your  honor  is  not  very  fond  of  hearing  named,  than  would 
last  us  from  this  day  to  Yule/' 

"  Does  anybody,"  said  the  knight,  "  know  wliom  it  is  that 
this  old  woman  means  ?  " 

"  I  conjecture,"  replied  Fabian,  "  that  she  speaks  of  an 
old  dotard,  who  is,  I  think,  the  general  referee  concerning 
the  history  and  antiquities  of  this  old  town,  and  of  the  savage 
family  that  lived  here,  perhaps  before  the  flood." 

"■  And  who,  I  daresay,"  said  the  knight,  "  knows  as  much 
about  the  matter  as  she  herself  does.  But  where  is  this  man  ? 
A  sexton  is  he  ?  He  may  be  acquainted  with  places  of  con- 
cealment, which  are  often  fabricated  in  Gothic  buildings,  and 
known  to  those  wliose  business  calls  them  to  frequent  them. 
Come,  my  good  old  dame,  bring  this  man  to  me  ;  or,  what 
may  be  better,  I  will  go  to  him,  for  we  have  already  spent  too 
much  time." 

*'Time!"  replied  the  old  woman — "is  time  an  object 
with  yonr  honor  ?  I  am  sure  I  can  hardly  get  so  mucli  for 
mine  as  will  hold  soul  and  body  together.  You  are  not  far 
from  the  old  man's  house." 

She  led  the  way  accordingly,  blundering  over  heaps  of 
rubbish,  and  encountering  all  the  embarrassments  of  a  ruin- 
ous street,  in  lighting  the  way  to  Sir  Aymer,  who,  giving  his 
horse  to  one  of  his  attendants,  and  desiring  Fabian  to  be 
ready  at  a  call,  scrambled  after  as  well  as  the  slowness  of  his 
guide  would  jDermit. 

Both  were  soon  involved  in  the  remains  of  the  old  church, 
much  dilapidated  as  it  had  been  by  wanton  damage  done  to 
it  by  the  soldiery,  and  so  much  impeded  by  rubbish,  that  the 
knight  marveled  how  the  old  woman  could  find  the  way. 
She  kept  talking  all  the  Avhile  as  she  stumbled  onward. 
Sometimes  she  called  out  in  a  screeching  tone,  "  Powheid  ! 
Lazarus  Powheid  !  "  and  then  muttered — "Ay — ay,  the  old 
man  will  be  busy  with  some  of  his  duties,  as  he  calls  them  ; 
I  wonder  he  fasJies  wi'  them  in  these  times.  But  never  mind, 
I  warrant  they  will  last  for  his  day,  and  for  mine  ;  and  the 
times.  Lord  help  us  !  for  all  that  I  can  see,  are  well  enough 
for  those  that  are  to  live  in  them." 

"  Are  you  sure,  good  woman,"  replied  the  knight,  "that 
there  is  any  inhabitant  in  these  ruins  ?  For  my  part  I  should 
rather  suppose  that  you  are  taking  me  to  the  charnel-house 
of  the  dead." 

"  Maybe  you  are  right,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  a  ghastly 
laugh  ;  *'  carles  and  carlines  agree  weel  with  funeral  vaults 
and  charnel  houses,  and  when  an  auld  bedral  dwells  near 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  417 

the  dead,  he  is  living,  ye  ken,  among  his  customers.  Halloo, 
Powheid  ! — Lazarus  Powheid  !  there  is  a  gentleman  would 
speak  with  you  ; "  and  she  added,  with  some  sort  of  em- 
phasis— "■  an  English  noble  gentleman,  one  of  the  honorable 
garrison." 

An  old  man's  step  was  now  heard  advancing,  so  slowly  that 
the  glimmering  light  wliich  he  held  in  his  hand  was  visible 
on  the  ruined  walls  of  the  vault  some  time  before  it  showed 
the  person  who  bore  it. 

The  shadow  of  the  old  man  was  also  projected  upon  the 
illuminated  wall  re  his  parson  came  in  view  ;  his  dress  was 
in  considerable  confusion,  oAving  to  his  having  been  roused 
from  his  bed  ;  and  since  artificial  light  was  forbidden  by  the 
regulations  of  the  garrison,  the  natives  of  Douglas  Dale  spent 
in  sleep  the  time  that  they  could  not  very  well  get  rid  of  by  any 
other  means.  The  sexton  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  emaciated 
by  years  and  by  privations  ;  his  body  was  bent  habitually  by 
his  occupation  of  grave-digging,  and  his  eye  naturally  in- 
clined downwards  to  the  scene  of  his  labors.  His  hand  sus- 
tained the  cruise  or  little  lamp,  which  he  held  so  as  to 
throw  light  upon  liis  visitant ;  at  the  same  time  it  displayed 
to  the  young  knight  the  features  of  the  person  with  whom 
he  was  now  confronted,  which,  though  neither  handsome 
nor  pleasing,  were  strongly  marked,  sagacious,  and  vener- 
able, indicating,  at  the  same  time,  a  certain  air  of  dignity, 
which  age,  even  mere  poverty,  may  be  found  occasionally  to 
bestow,  as  conferring  that  last  melancholy  species  of  inde- 
pendence proper  to  those  whose  situation  can  hardly,  by  any 
imaginable  means,  be  rendered  much  worse  than  years  and 
fortune  have  already  made  it.  The  habit  of  a  lay  brother 
added  somewhat  of  religious  importance  to  his  appear- 
ance. 

"  What  would  you  with  me,  young  man  ?  "  said  the  sexton. 
"  Your  youthful  features  and  your  gay  dress  bespeak  one 
who  stands  in  need  of  my  ministry  neither  for  himself  nor  for 
others." 

''lam,  indeed,"  replied  the  knight,  ''a  living  man,  and 
therefore  need  not  either  shovel  or  pick-ax  for  my  own  be- 
hoof. I  am  not,  as  you  see,  attired  in  mourning,  and  there- 
fore need  not  your  offices  in  behalf  of  any  friend  :  I  would 
only  ask  you  a  few  questions." 

"  What  you  would  have  done  must  needs  be  done,  you 
being  at  present  one  of  our  rulers,  and,  as  I  think,  a  man  of 
authority,"  replied  the  sexton.  ''Follow  me  this  way  into 
my  poor  habitation  ;  I  have  had  a  better  in  my  day,  and  jet, 

|7 


418  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

Heaven  knows,  it  is  good  enough  for  me,  when  many  men  ot 
much  greater  consequences  must  perforce  content  themselves 
with  worse." 

He  opened  a  lowly  door,  which  was  fitted,  though  irreg- 
ularly, to  serve  as  the  entrance  of  a  vaulted  apartment, 
where  it  appeared  that  the  old  man  held,  apart  from  the 
living  world,  his  wretched  and  solitary  dwelling.*  The  floor, 
composed  of  paving-stones,  laid  together  with  some  accuracy, 
and  here  and  there  inscribed  with  letters  and  hieroglyphics, 
as  if  they  had  once  upon  a  time  served  to  distinguisli  sep- 
ulchers,  was  indifferently  well  swept,  and  a  fire  at  the 
upper  end  directed  its  smoke  into  a  hole  which  served  for  a 
chimney.  The  spade  and  pick-ax,  with  other  tools,  which 
the  chamberlain  of  mortality  makes  use  of,  lay  scattered 
about  the  apartment,  and,  with  a  rude  stool  or  two  and  a 
table,  wliere  some  inexperienced  hand  had  unquestionably 
supplied  the  labors  of  the  joiner,  were  nearly  the  only  fur- 
niture, if  we  include  the  old  man's  bed  of  strav/,  lying  in  a 
corner,  and  discomposed,  as  if  he  had  been  just  raised  from 
it.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  ai^artment,  the  wall  was  almost 
entirely  covered  by  a  large  escutcheon,  such  as  is  usually 
hung  over  the  graves  of  men  of  very  high  rank,  having  the  ap- 
propriate quarters,  to  the  number  of  sixteen,  eacli  properly 
blazoned  and  distinct,  placed  as  ornaments  around  the  prin- 
cipal armorial  coat  itself. 

"Let  us  sit,"  said  the  old  man  :  "the  posture  will  better 
enable  my  failing  ears  to  apprehend  your  meaning,  and  the 
asthma  will  deal  with  me  more  mercifully  in  jjermitting  me 
to  make  you  understand  mine.'' 

A  peal  of  short  asthmatic  coughs  attested  the  violence  of 
the  disorder  which  he  had  last  named,  and  the  young  knight 
followed  his  host's  example,  in  sitting  down  on  one  of  the 
rickety  stools  by  the  side  of  the  fire.  The  old  man  brought 
from  one  corner  of  the  apartment  an  apron,  Avhich  he  oc- 
casionally wore,  full  of  broken  boards  in  irregulai-  pieces, 
some  of  which  were  covered  with  black  cloth,  or  driven  full 
of  nails,  black,  as  it  might  happen,  or  gilded. 

"You  will  find  this  fresh  fuel  necessary,"  said  the  old 
man,  "to  keep  some  degree  of  heat  within  this  waste  apart- 
ment ;  nor  are  the  vapors  of  mortality,  with  which  this 
vault  is  apt  to  be  filled,  if  the  fire  is  permitted  to  become  ex- 
tinct, indiilerent  to  the  lungs  of  the  dainty  and  the  healthy, 
like  your  worship,  though  to  me  they  are  become  habitual. 
The  wood  will  catch  fire,  although  it  is  some  time  ere  the 
*  See  Ruin  of  Douglas  Church.    Note  7. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  419 

damps  of  the  grave  are  overcome  by  the  dryer  air  and  the 
warmth  of  the  chimney." 

Accordingly,  the  relics  of  mortality  with  which  the  old 
man  had  heaped  his  fireplace  began  by  degrees  to  send  forth 
a  thick,  unctuous  vapor,  which  at  length  leaped  to  light, 
and,  blazing  up  the  aperture,  gave  a  degree  of  liveliness  to  the 
gloomy  scene.  The  blazonry  of  the  huge  escutcheon  met, 
and  returned  the  rays  with  as  brilliant  a  reflection  as  that 
lugubrious  object  was  capable  of,  and  the  whole  apartment 
looked  with  a  fantastic  gaiety,  strangely  mingled  with  the 
gloomy  ideas  which  its  ornaments  were  calculated  to  im- 
press upon  the  imagination. 

"  You  are  astonished,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and  perhaps, 
sir  knight,  you  have  never  before  seen  these  relics  of  the 
dead  applied  to  the  purpose  of  rendering  the  living,  in  some 
degree,  more  comfortable  than  their  condition  would  other- 
wise admit  of." 

"  Comfortable  !"  returned  the  knight  of  Valence,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders  ;  *'  I  should  be  sorry,  old  man,  to  know 
that  I  had  a  dog  that  was  as  indifferently  quartered  as  thou 
art,  whose  gray  hairs  have  certainly  seen  better  days." 

"  It  may  be,''  answered  the  sexton,  "and  it  may  be 
otherwise  ;  but  it  was  not,  I  presume,  concerning  my  own 
history  that  your  worship  seemed  disj)Osed  to  ask  me  some 
questions  ;  and  I  Avould  venture  to  inquire,  therefore,  to 
whom  they  have  relation  ?" 

"  I  will  speak  plainly  to  yon," replied  Sir  Aymer,  ''and 
you  will  at  once  acknowledge  the  necessity  of  giving  a  short 
and  distinct  reply.  I  have  even  now  met  in  the  streets  of 
this  village  a  person  only  shown  to  me  by  a  single  flash  of 
light,  who  had  the  audacity  to  display  the  armorial  insignia 
and  utter  the  war-cry  of  the  Douglasses ;  nay,  if  I  could 
trust  a  transient  glance,  this  daring  cavalier  had  the  features 
and  the  dark  complexion  proper  to  the  Douglas.  I  am 
referred  to  thee  as  to  one  who  possesses  means  of  explaining 
this  extraordinary  circumstance,  which,  as  an  English  knight, 
and  one  holding  a  charge  under  King  Edward,  I  am  par- 
ticularly called  upon  to  make  inquiry  into." 

*'  Let  me  make  a  distinction,"  said  the  old  man.  "  The 
Douglasses  of  former  generations  are  my  near  neighbors, 
and,  according  to  my  superstitious  townsmen,  my  acquaint- 
ances and  visitors  ;  I  can  take  it  upon  my  conscience  to  be 
answerable  for  their  good  behavior,  and  to  become  bound 
that  none  of  the  old  barons,  to  whom  the  roots  of  that 
mighty  tree  may,  it  is  said,  be  traced,  will  again  disturb 


420  WA  VERLET  NO  VEL S 

with  their  war-cry  the  towns  or  villages  of  their  native 
country  :  not  one  will  parade  in  moonshine  the  black  armor 
which  has  long  rusted  upon  their  tombs. 

The  knights  are  dust, 

And  their  good  swords  are  rust ; 

Their  souls  are  with  the  saints,  we  trust.* 

Look  around,  sir  knight,  you  have  above  and  around  you 
the  men  of  whom  we  speak.  Beneath  us,  in  a  little  aisle, 
which  hath  not  been  opened  since  these  thin  gray  locks  were 
thick  and  brown,  there  lies  the  first  man  whom  I  can  name 
as  memorable  among  those  of  this  mighty  line.  It  is  he 
whom  the  Thane  of  Athol  pointed  out  to  the  King  of  Scotland 
as  Sholto  Dhuglass,  or  the  dark,  iron-colored  man,  whose 
exertions  had  gained  the  battle  for  his  native  prince  ;  and 
who,  according  to  this  legend,  bequeathed  his  name  to  our 
dale  and  town,  though  others  say  that  the  race  assumed  the 
name  of  Douglas  from  the  stream  so  called  in  unrecorded 
times,  before  they  had  their  fastness  on  its  banks.  Others, 
his  descendants,  called  Eachain,  or  Hector  the  first,  and 
Orodh,  or  Hugh,  William,  the  first  of  that  name,  and 
Gilmour,  the  theme  of  many  a  minstrel  song,  commemorating 
achievements  done  under  the  oriflamme  of  Charles  the 
Great  Emperor  of  France,  have  all  consigned  themselves  to 
their  last  sleep,  nor  has  their  memory  been  sufiiciently 
preserved  from  the  waste  of  time.  Something  we  know 
concerning  their  great  deeds,  their  great  power,  and,  alas  ! 
their  great  crimes.  Something  we  also  know  of  a  Lord  of 
Douglas  who  sat  in  a  parliament  at  Forfar,  held  by  King 
Malcolm  the  First,  and  we  are  aware  that,  from  his  attach- 
ment to  hunting  the  wild  hart,  he  built  himself  a  tower  called 
Blackhouse,  in  the  Forest  of  Ettrick,  which  perhaps  still 
exists.'" 

"  I  crave  your  forgiveness,  old  man,^'  said  the  knight,  "  but 
I  have  no  time  at  present  to  bestow  upon  the  recitation  of 
the  pedigree  of  the  house  of  Douglass.  A  less  matter  would 
hold  a  well-breathed  minstrel  in  subject  for  recitation  for  a 
calendar  month,  Sundays  and  holydays  included." 

"  What  other  information  can  you  expect  from  me,"  said 
the  sexton,  "than  that  respecting  those  heroes,  some  of 
whom  it  has  been  my  lot  to  consign  to  that  eternal  rest  which 
will  forever  divide  the  dead  from -the  duties  of  this  world? 
I  have  told  you  where  the  race  sleep  down  to  the  reign  of 

•  See  Fragment  by  Coleridge.    Note  8. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  421 

the  royal  Malcolm.  I  can  tell  you  also  of  another  vault,  in 
which  lie  Sir  John  of  Douglas  Burn,  with  his  son  Lord 
xirchibald,  and  a  third  William,  known  by  an  indenture  with 
Lord  Abernethy.  Lastly,  I  can  tell  you  of  him  to  whom 
tliat  escutcheon,  with  its  appurtenances  of  splendor  and 
dignity,  justly  belong.  Do  you  envy  that  nobleman,  whom, 
if  death  were  in  the  sound,  I  would  not  hesitate  to  term  my 
honorable  patron  ?  and  have  you  any  design  of  dishonoring 
Ills  remains  ?  It  will  be  a  poor  victory  ;  nor  does  it  become 
a  knight  and  nobleman  to  come  in  person  to  enjoy  such  a 
triumph  over  the  dead,  against  whom,  when  he  lived,  there 
were  few  knights  dared  spur  their  horses.  He  fought  in 
defense  of  his  country,  but  he  had  not  the  good  fortune  of 
most  of  his  ancestors,  to  die  on  the  field  of  battle.  Captivity, 
sickness,  and  regret  for  the  misfortunes  of  his  native  land 
brought  his  head  to  the  grave  in  his  prison-house,  in  the  land 
of  the  stranger." 

The  old  man's  voice  here  became  interrupted  by  emotion, 
and  the  English  knight  found  it  difficult  to  continue  his  ex- 
amination in  the  stern  fashion  which  his  duty  required. 

"  Old  man,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  require  from  thee  this  de- 
tail, which  must  be  useless  to  me,  as  well  as  painful  to  thy- 
self. Thou  dost  but  thy  duty  in  rendering  justice  to  thy 
ancient  lord  ;  but  thou  hast  not  yet  explained  to  me  why  I 
have  met  in  this  town,  this  very  night,  and  not  half  an  hour 
since,  a  person  in  the  arms,  and  bearing  the  complexion,  of 
one  of  the  Black  Douglasses,  who  cried  his  war-cry  as  if  in 
contempt  of  his  conquerors." 

"  Surely,"  replied  the  sexton,  "  it  is  not  my  business  to 
explain  such  a  falicy,  otherwise  than  by  supposing  that  the 
natural  fears  of  the  Southron  will  raise  the  specter  of  a 
Douglas  at  any  time,  when  he  is  within  sight  of  their  sepul- 
cher.  Methinks,  in  such  a  night  as  this,  the  fairest  cavalier 
would  wear  the  complexion  of  this  swarthy  race  ;  nor  can  I 
hold  it  wonderful  that  the  war-cry  which  was  once  in  the 
throats  of  so  many  tliousands  in  this  country  should  issue 
upon  occasion  from  the  mouth  of  a  single  champion." 

''You  are  bold,  old  man,"  returned  the  English  knight  ; 
"  do  you  consider  that  your  life  is  in  my  power,  and  that  it 
may,  in  certain  cases,  be  my  duty  to  inflict  death  with  that 
degree  of  pain  at  which  humanity  shudders  ?" 

The  old  man  rose  up  slowly  in  the  light  of  the  blazing 
fire,  displaying  his  emaciated  features,  which  resembled 
thoseascribed  by  artists  to  St.  Anthony  of  the  desert,  and 
pointing  to  the  feeble  lamp,  which  he  placed  upon  the  coarse 


422  WAVEBLET  NOVELS 

table,  thus  addressed  liis  interrogator,  with  an  appearance 
of  perfect  firmness,  and  something  even  resembling  dignity  : 

"  Young  knight  of  England,  you  see  that  utensil  con- 
structed for  the  purpose  of  dispensing  light  amidst  these 
fatal  vaults  ;  it  is  as  frail  as  anything  can  well  be,  whose 
flame  is  supplied  by  living  element,  contained  in  a  frame 
composed  of  iron.  It  is  doubtless  in  your  power  entirely  to 
end  its  service,  by  destroying  the  frame  or  extinguishing  the 
light.  Threaten  it  with  such  annihilation,  sir  knight,  and 
see  whether  your  menace  will  impress  any  sense  of  fear 
either  on  the  element  or  the  iron.  Know  that  you  have  no 
more  power  over  the  frail  mortal  whom  you  threaten  with 
similar  annihilation.  You  nuiy  tear  from  my  body  the  skin 
in  which  it  is  now  swathed  ;  but  although  my  nerves  might 
glow  with  agony  during  the  inhuman  operation,  it  would 
produce  no  more  imj^ression  on  me  than  flaying  on  the  stag 
which  an  arrow  has  previously  pierced  through  the  heart. 
My  age  sets  me  beyond  your  cruelty  :  if  you  think  other- 
wise, call  your  agents,  and  commence  your  operations  ; 
neither  threats  nor  inflictions  will  enable  you  to  extort  from 
me  anything  that  I  am  not  ready  to  tell  you  of  my  own 
accord.*' 

*'You  trifle  with  me,  old  man,'*  said  De  Valence :  ''^you 
talk  as  if  you  possessed  some  secret  respecting  the  motions 
of  these  Douglasses,  who  are  to  you  as  gods,  yet  you  com- 
municate no  intelligence  to  me  whatever.'" 

"  You  may  soon  know,''  replied  the  old  man,  "  all  that  a 
poor  sexton  has  to  communicate  ;  and  it  will  not  increase 
your  knowledge  respecting  the  living,  though  it  may  throw 
some  light  upon  my  proper  domains,  which  are  those  of  the 
dead.  The  spirits  of  the  deceased  Douglasses  do  not  rest  in 
their  graves  during  the  dishonor  of  their  monuments  and  the 
downfall  of  their  house.  That,  uj^on  death,  the  greater  part 
of  any  line  are  consigned  to  the  regions  of  eternal  bliss  or 
of  never-ending  misery  religion  will  not  suffer  us  to  believe, 
and,  amidst  a  race  who  had  so  great  a  share  of  worldly 
triumph  and  prosperity,  we  must  suppose  there  have  existed 
many  who  have  been  justly  subjected  to  the  doom  of  an  in- 
termediate space  of  punishment.  You  have  destroyed  the 
temples  which  were  built  by  their  posterity  to  propitiate 
Heaven  for  the  welfare  of  their  souls  ;  you  have  silenced  the 
prayers  and  stopped  the  choirs  by  the  mediation  of  which  the 
piety  of  children  had  sought  to  appease  the  wrath  of  Heaven 
in  behalf  of  their  ancestors,  subjected  to  expiatory  fires. 
Can  you  wonder  that  the  tormented  spirits,  thus  deprived  of 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  423 

the  relief  which  had  been  proposed  to  them,  should  not, 
according  to  the  common  phrase,  rest  in  their  graves  ?  Can 
you  wonder  they  should  show  themselves  like  discontented 
loiterers  near  to  the  places  which,  but  for  the  manner  in 
which  you  have  prosecuted  your  remorseless  warfare,  might 
have  ere  now  afforded  them  rest  ?  Or  do  you  marvel  that 
these  fleshless  warriors  should  interrupt  your  marches,  and 
do  what  else  their  airy  nature  may  permit  to  disturb  your 
councils,  and  meet  as  far  as  they  may  the  hostilities  which 
you  make  it  your  boast  carry  on,  as  well  against  those  who 
are  deceased  as  against  any  who  may  yet  survive  your  cru- 
elty?" 

"Old  man,"  replied  Aymer  de  Valence,  "you  cannot  ex- 
pect that  I  am  to  take  for  answer  a  story  like  this,  being  a 
fiction  too  gross  to  charm  to  sleep  a  schoolboy  tormented 
with  the  toothache  ;  nevertheless,  I  thank  God  that  thy 
doom  does  not  remain  in  my  hands.  My  squire  and  two 
archers  shall  carry  thee  captive  to  the  worshipful  Sir  John 
de  Walton,  governor  of  the  castle  and  valley,  that  he  may 
■deal  with  thee  as  seems  meet ;  nor  is  he  a  person  to  believe 
in  your  apparitions  and  ghosts  from  purgatory.  What  ho  ! 
Fabian  !  Come  hither,  and  bring  with  thee  two  archers  of 
the  guard." 

Fabian  accordingly,  who  had  waited  at  the  entrance  of  the 
ruined  building,  now  found  his  way,  by  the  light  of  the  old 
sexton's  lamp,  and  the  sound  of  his  master's  voice,  into  the 
singular  apartment  of  the  old  man,  the  strange  decorations 
of  which  struck  the  youth  with  great  surprise  and  some 
horror. 

"  Take  the  two  archers  with  thee,  Fabian,"  said  the  knight 
of  Valence,  "  and,  with  their  assistance,  convey  this  old 
man,  on  horseback  or  in  a  litter,  to  the  presence  of  the  wor- 
shipful Sir  John  de  Walton.  Tell  him  what  we  have  seen, 
which  thou  didst  witness  as  well  as  I ;  and  tell  him  that  this 
old  sexton,  whom  I  send  to  be  examined  by  his  superior 
wisdom,  seems  to  know  more  than  he  is  willing  to  disclose 
respecting  our  ghostly  cavalier,  though  he  will  give  us  no  ac- 
count of  him,  except  intimating  that  he  is  a  spirit  of  the  old 
Douglasses  from  purgatory,  to  which  Sir  John  de  Walton 
will  give  what  faith  he  pleases.  You  may  say  that,  for  my 
part,  my  belief  is,  either  that  the  sexton  is  crazed  by  age, 
want,  and  enthusiasm,  or  that  he  is  connected  with  some 
plot  which  the  country  people  are  hatching.  You  may  also 
say,  that  I  shall  not  use  much  ceremony  with  the  youth  un- 
der the  care  of  the  abbott  of  St.  Bride ;  there  is  something 


424  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL 8 

Buspicious  in  all  the  occurrences  that  are  now  passing  around 
us. 

Fabian  promised  obedience  ;  and  the  knight,  pulling  him 
a_side,_  gave  him  an  additional  caution  to  behave  with  atten- 
tion in  this  business,  seeing  he  must  recollect  that  neither 
the  judgment  of  himself  nor  that  of  his  master  was  ap- 
parently held  in  very  much  esteem  by  the  governor,  and  that 
it  would  ill  becouie  them  fco  make  any  mistake  in  a  matter 
where  the  safety  of  the  castle  was  perhaps  concerned. 

"Fear  me  not,  worshipful  sir,"  replied  the  youth  ;  "  lam 
returning  to  pure  air  in  the  first  place,  and  a  good  fire  in  the 
second,  both  acceptable  exchanges  for  this  dungeon  of  suffo- 
cating vapors  and  execrable  smells.  You  may  trust  to  my 
making  no  delay  :  a  very  short  time  will  carry  me  back  to 
Castle  Douglas,  even  moving  with  suitable  attention  to  this 
old  man's  bones." 

"  Use  him  humanely,"  answered  the  knight.  "  And  thou, 
old  man,  if  thou  art  insensible  to  threats  of  personal  danger 
in  this  matter,  remember  that,  if  thou  art  found  paltering 
with  us,  thy  punishment  will  perhaps  be  more  severe  than 
any  we  can  inflict  upon  thy  person." 

"  Can  you  administer  the  torture  to  the  soul  ?"  said  the 
sexton. 

"  As  to  thee,"  answered  the  knight,  "  we  have  that  power  : 
we  will  dissolve  every  monastery  or  religious  establishment 
held  for  the  souls  of  these  Douglasses,  and  will  only  allow 
the  religious  people  to  hold  their  residence  there  upon  con- 
dition of  their  praying  for  the  soul  of  King  Edward  the 
First  of  glorious  memory,  the  malleus  Scotonim  ;  and  if  the 
Douglasses  are  deprived  of  the  ghostly  benefit  of  the  prayers 
and  services  of  such  shrines,  they  may  term  thy  obstinacy 
the  cause." 

*'  Such  a  species  of  vengeance,"  answered  the  old  man,  in 
the  same  bold  unsubdued  tone  which  he  had  hitherto  used, 
**  were  more  worthy  of  the  infernal  fiends  than  of  Christian 
men." 

The  squire  raised  his  hand.  The  knight  interposed. 
** Forbear  him,"  he  said,  "Fabian,  he  is  very  old,  and  per 
haps  insane.  And  you,  sexton,  remember  that  the  ven> 
geance  threatened  is  lawfully  directed  towards  a  family  whicxi 
have  been  the  obstinate  supporters  of  the  excommunicated 
rebel  who  murdered  the  Eed  Comyn  at  the  High  Churct 
in  Dumfries." 

^So  saying,  xA.ymer  strode  out  of  the  ruins,  picking  his  way 
irith  some  difficulty  ;  took  his  horse,  which  he  found  at  the 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  425 

entrance ;  repeated  a  caution  to  Fabian  to  conduct  himself 
with  prudence  ;  and,  passing  on  to  the  southwestern  gate, 
gave  the  strongest  injunctions  concerning  the  necessity  of 
keeping  a  vigihmt  watch,  both  by  patrols  and  by  sentinels, 
intimating  at  the  same  time  that  it  must  have  been  neglected 
during  the  preceding  part  of  the  evening.  The  men  mur- 
mured an  aiDology,  the  confusion  of  which  seemed  to  express 
that  there  had  existed  some  occasion  for  the  reprimand. 

Sir  Aymer  then  proceeded  on  his  journey  to  Hazelside,  his 
train  diminished  by  the  absence  of  Fabian  and  his  assistants. 
After  a  hasty  but  not  a  short  journey,  the  knight  alighted 
at  Thomas  Dickson's,  where  he  found  the  detachment  from 
Ayr  had  arrived  before  him,  and  were  snugly  housed  for  the 
night.  He  sent  one  of  the  archers  to  announce  his  approach 
to  the  abbot  of  St.  Bride  and  his  young  guest,  intimating  at 
the  same  time  that  the  archer  must  keep  sight  of  the  latter 
until  he  himself  arrived  at  the  chapel,  which  would  be 
instantly. 


CHAPTER  X 

When  the  nightengale  singes  the  wodes  waxen  grene, 
Lef ,  and  gras,  and  bios  me  springeth  in  April  I  wene, 
And  love  is  to  myne  herte  gone  with  one  speare  so  kene, 
Night  and  day  my  blood  hyt  drynkes,  mine  herte  deth  me  tene. 
MSS.  Hail.    Quoted  by  Warton. 

Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  had  no  sooner  followed  his  archer 
to  the  convent  of  St.  Bride  than  he  summoned  the  abbot  to 
his  presence,  who  came  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  loves  his 
ease,  and  who  is  suddenly  called  from  the  couch  where  he 
has  consigned  himself  to  a  comfortable  repose,  at  the  sum- 
mons of  one  whom  he  does  not  think  it  safe  to  disobey,  and 
to  whom  he  would  not  disguise  his  sense  of  peevishness,  if 
he  durst. 

"  It  is  a  late  ride,"  he  said,  "  which  has  brought  your 
worthy  honor  hither  from  the  castle.  May  I  be  informed  of 
the  cause,  after  the  arrangement  so  recently  gone  into  with 
the  governor  ?  " 

"It  is  my  hope,''  replied  the  knight,  ''that  you,  father 
abbot,  are  not  already  conscious  of  it ;  suspicions  are  afloat, 
and  I  myself  have  this  night  seen  something  to  confirm  them, 
that  some  of  the  obstinate  rebels  of  this  country  are  again 
setting  afoot  dangerous  practises,  to  the  peril  of  the  garri- 
son ;  and  I  come,  father,  to  see  whether,  in  requital  of  many 
favors  received  from  the  English  monarch,  you  will  not  merit 
his  bounty  and  protection  by  contributing  to  the  discovery 
of  the  designs  of  his  enemies." 

"Assuredly  so,"  answered  Father  Jerome,  in  an  agitated 
voice.  "  Most  unquestionably  my  information  should  stand 
at  your  command  ;  that  is,  if  I  knew  anything  the  commu- 
nication of  which  could  be  of  advantage  to  you." 

"Father  abbot,"  replied  the  English  knight,  "although 
it  is  rash  to  make  myself  responsible  for  a  North  Country 
man  in  these  times,  yet  I  own  I  do  consider  you  as  one  who 
has  ever  been  faithfully  subject  to  tlie  King  of  England,  and 
I  willingly  hope  that  you  will  still  continue  so." 

"  And  a  fine  encouragement  I  have  !"  said  the  abbot ;  to 
be  called  out  of  my  bed  at  midnight,  in  this  raw  weather,  to 
426 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  427 

andergo  the  examination  of  a  knight  who  is  the  youngest, 
perhaps,  of  his  own  honorable  rank,  and  who  will  not  tell 
me  the  subject  of  the  interrogatories,  but  detains  me  on  this 
cold  pavement  till,  according  to  the  opinion  of  Celsus,  the 
podagra  which  lurks  in  my  feet  may  be  driven  into  my 
stomach,  and  then  good-night  to  abbacy  and  examinations 
from  henceforward." 

"Good  father,"  said  the  young  man,  "the  spirit  of  the 
times  must  teach  thee  patience  ;  recollect  that  I  can  feel 
no  pleasure  in  this  duty,  and  that,  if  an  insurrection  should 
take  place,  the  rebels,  who  are  sufficiently  displeased  with 
thee  for  acknowledging  the  English  monarch,  would  hang 
thee  from  thine  own  steeple  to  feed  the  crows  ;  or  that,  if 
thou  hast  secured  thy  peace  by  some  private  compact  with 
the  insurgents,  the  English  governor,  who  will  sooner  or 
later  gain  the  advantage,  will  not  fail  to  treat  thee  as  a  rebel 
to  his  sovereign." 

"  It  may  appear  to  you,  my  noble  son,"  answered  the 
abbot,  obviously  discomposed,  "that  I  am  hung  up,  in  this 
case,  on  the  horns  of  the  dilemma  which  you  have  stated  ; 
nevertheless,  I  protest  to  you  that,  if  any  one  accuses  me  of 
conspiring  with  the  rebels  against  the  King  of  England,  I 
am  ready,  provided  you  give  me  time  to  swallow  a  potion  rec- 
ommended by  Celsus  in  my  perilous  case,  to  answer  with 
the  most  perfect  sincerity,  every  question  which  thou  canst 
put  to  me  upon  that  subject."  So  saying,  he  called  upon  a 
monk  who  had  attended  at  his  levee,  and,  giving  him  a 
large  key,  whispered  something  in  his  ear.  The  cup  which 
the  monk  brought  was  of  such  capacity  as  proved  Celsus's 
draught  required  to  be  administered  in  considerable  quantity, 
and  a  strong  smell  which  it  spread  through  the  apartment 
accredited  the  knight's  suspicion  that  the  medicine  chiefly 
consisted  of  what  were  then  termed  distilled  waters — a  prep- 
aration known  in  the  monasteries  for  some  time  before  that 
comfortable  secret  had  reached  the  laity  in  general.  The 
abbot,  neither  overawed  by  the  strength  nor  by  the  quantity 
of  the  potion,  took  it  off  Avith  what  he  himself  would  have 
called  a  feeling  of  solace  and  pleasance,  and  his  voice  became 
much  more  composed  ;  he  signified  himself  as  comforted  ex- 
traordinarily by  the  medicine,  and  willing  to  proceed  to 
answer  any  questions  which  could  be  put  to  him  by  his 
gallant  young  friend. 

"  At  present,"  said  the  knight,  "  you  are  aware,  father, 
that  strangers  traveling  through  this  country  must  be  the 
first  objects  of  our  suspicions  and  inquiries."   What  is,  for 


428  WA  VERLEY  N O  VELS 

example,  your  own  opinion  of  the  youth  termed  Augustine, 
the  son,  or  calling  himself  so,  of  a  person  called  Bertram  the 
minstrel,  who  has  resided  for  some  days  in  your  convent  ?  " 

The  abbot  heard  the  question  with  eyes  expressive  of  sur- 
prise at  the  quarter  from  which  it  came. 

"Assuredly/'  said  he,  "I  think  of  him  as  a  youth  who, 
from  anything  I  have  seen,  is  of  that  excellent  disposition, 
both  with  resj^ect  to  loyalty  and  religion,  which  I  should  have 
expected,  were  I  to  judge  from  the  estimable  person  who 
committed  him  to  my  care." 

With  this  the  abbot  bowed  to  the  knight,  as  if  he  had  con- 
ceived that  this  repartee  gave  him  a  silencing  advantage  in 
any  question  which  could  follow  upon  that  subject,  and  he 
was  probably  therefore  surprised  when  Sir  Aymer  replied  as 
follows  : — 

*'  It  is  very  true,  father  abbot,  that  I  myself  did  recom- 
mend this  stripling  to  you  as  a  youth  of  a  harmless  dispo- 
sition, and  with  respect  to  whom  it  would  be  unnecessary  to 
exercise  the  strict  vigilance  extended  to  others  in  similar 
circumstances  ;  but  the  evidence  which  seemed  to  me  to 
vouch  for  this  young  man's  innocence  has  not  appeared 
so  satisfactory  to  my  superior  and  commander,  and  it  is  by 
his  orders  that  I  now  make  farther  inquiries  of  you.  You 
must  think  they  are  of  consequence,  since  we  again  trouble 
you,  and  at  so  unwonted  an  hour." 

''  I  can  only  protest  by  my  order  and  by  the  veil  of  St. 
Bride,"  replied  the  abbot,  the  spirit  of  Celsus  appearing  to 
fail  his  pupil,  "that  whatever  evil  may  be  in  this  matter  is 
totally  unknown  to  me,  nor  could  it  be  extorted  from  me  by 
racks  or  implements  of  torture.  Whatever  signs  of  disloyalty 
may  have  been  evinced  by  this  young  man,  I  have  witnessed 
none  of  them,  although  I  have  been  strictly  attentive  to  his 
behavior." 

"In  what  respect  ?"  said  the  knight,  "and  what  is  the 
result  of  your  observation  ?  " 

"  My  answer,"  said  the  abbot  of  St.  Bride,  "shall  be  sin- 
cere and  downright.  The  youth  condescended  upon  pay- 
ment of  a  certain  number  of  gold  crowns,  not  by  any  means 
to  repay  the  hospitality  of  the  church  of  St.  Bride,  but 
merely " 

"Nay,  father,"  interrui^ted  the  knight,  "you  may  cut 
that  short,  since  the  governor  and  I  well  understand  the 
terms  upon  which  the  monks  of  St.  Bride  exercise  their  hos- 
pitality. In  what  manner,  is  it  more  necessary  td  ask,  was 
it  received  by  this  boy  ?" 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  429 

"  "With  the  utmost  gentleness  and  moderation,  noble  sir/' 
answered  the  abbot.  "Indeed,  it  appeared  to  me  at  first 
that  he  might  be  a  troublesome  guest,  since  the  amount  of 
his  benevolence  to  the  convent  was  such  as  to  encourage, 
and  in  some  degree  to  authorize,  his  demanding  accommo- 
dation of  a  kind  superior  to  what  we  had  to  bestow." 

*' In  which  case,''  said  Sir  Aymer,  '^you  would  have  had 
the  discomfort  of  returning  some  part  of  the  money  you  had 
received  ?" 

"  That,"  replied  the  abbot,  '^  would  have  been  a  mode  of 
settlement  contrary  to  our  vows.  What  is  paid  to  the  treas- 
ury of  St.  Bridget  cannot,  agreeably  to  our  rule,  be  on  any 
account  restored.  But,  noble  knight,  there  was  no  occa- 
sion for  this  :  a  crust  of  white  bread  and  a  draught  of  milk 
were  diet  sufficient  to  nourish  this  poor  youth  for  a  day,  and 
it  was  my  own  anxiety  for  his  health  that  dictated  the 
furnishing  of  his  cell  with  a  softer  bed  and  coverlet  than  are 
quite  consistent  with  the  rules  of  our  order." 

"Now  hearken  to  what  I  say,  sir  abbot,  and  answer  me 
truly,"  said  the  knight  of  Valence.  "  What  communication 
has  this  youth  held  with  the  inmates  of  your  convent,  or 
with  those  beyond  your  house  ?  Search  your  memory  con- 
cerning this,  and  let  me  have  a  distinct  answer,  for  your 
guest's  safety  and  your  own  depend  upon  it." 

"As  I  am  a  Christian  man,"  said  tlie  abbot,  "I  have  ob- 
served nothing  which  could  give  ground  for  your  worship's 
suspicions.  The  boy  A.ugustine,  unlike  those  whom  I  have 
observed  who  have  been  educated  in  the  world,  showed  a 
marked  preference  to  the  company  of  such  sisters  as  the 
house  of  St.  Bride  contains,  rather  than  for  that  of  the 
monks,  my  brethren,  although  there  are  among  them  pleas- 
ant and  conversible  men." 

"Scandal,"  said  the  young  knight,  ''might  find  a  reason 
for  that  preference." 

"  Not  in  the  case  of  the  sisters  of  St.  Bridget,"  said  the 
abbot,  "  most  of  whom  have  been  either  sorely  misused  bv 
time,  or  their  comeliness  destroyed  by  some  mishap  pre- 
viously to  their  being  received  into  tlie  seclusion  of  the 
house." 

This  observation  the  good  father  made  with  some  internal 
movement  of  mirth,  which  was  apjDurently  excited  at  the 
idea  of  the  sisterhood  of  St.  Bridget  becoming  attractive 
to  any  one  by  dint  of  their  personal  beauty,  in  which,  as  it 
happened,  they  were  all  notably,  and  almost  ludicrously, 
deficient.     The  English  knight,   to  whom    the   sisterhood 


430  WA  VSRLEY  NO VEL S 

were  well  known,  felt  also  inclined  to  smile  at  this  conver- 
sation. 

"  I  acquit,"  he  said,  ■'  the  pious  sisterhood  of  charming, 
otherwise  than  by  their  kind  wishes  and  attention  to  the 
wants  of  the  suffering  stranger." 

"  Sister  Beatrice,"  continued  the  father,  resuming  his 
gravity,  "  is  indeed  blessed  with  a  winning  gift  of  making 
comfits  and  syllbaubs  ;  but,  on  minute  inquiry,  I  do  not  find 
that  the  youth  has  tasted  any  of  them.  Neither  is  sister 
Ursula  so  hard-favored  by  nature  as  from  the  effects  of  an 
accident  ;  but  your  honor  knows  that,  when  a  woman  is 
ugly,  the  men  do  not  trouble  themselves  about  the  cause  of 
her  hard  favor.  I  will  go,  with  your  leave,  and  see  in  what 
state  the  youth  now  is,  and  summon  him  before  you." 

"  I  request  you  to  do  so,  father,  for  the  affair  is  instant  ; 
and  I  earnestly  advise  you  to  watch,  in  the  closest  manner, 
this  Augustine's  behavior  :  you  cannot  be  too  particular. 
I  will  wait  your  return,  and  either  carry  the  boy  to  the  cas- 
tle, or  leave  him  here,  as  circumstances  may  seem  to  re- 
quire." 

The  abbot  bowed,  promised  his  utmost  exertions,  and 
hobbled  out  of  the  room  to  wait  on  the  youth  Augustine  in 
his  cell,  anxious  to  favor,  if  possible,  the  wishes  of  De  Val- 
ence, whom  he  looked  upon  as  rendered  by  circumstances 
his  military  patron. 

He  remained  long  absent,  and  Sir  Aymer  began  to  be  of 
opinion  that  the  delay  was  suspicious,  when  the  abbot  re- 
turned with  perplexity  and  discomposure  in  his  counte- 
nance. 

"  I  crave  your  pardon  for  keeping  your  worship  waiting," 
said  Jerome,  with  much  anxiety  ;  "  but  I  have  myself  been 
detained  and  vexed  by  unnecessary  formalities  and  scruples 
on  the  part  of  this  peevish  boy.  In  the  first  place,  hearing 
my  foot  approaching  his  bedroom,  my  youth,  instead  of  un- 
doing the  door,  which  would  have  been  but  proper  respect 
to  my  place,  on  the  contrary  draws  a  strong  bolt  on  the  in- 
side ;  and  this  fastening,  forsooth,  has  been  placed  on  his 
chamber  by  Ursula's  command,  that  his  slumbers  might  be 
suitably  respected.  I  intimated  to  him  as  I  best  could  that 
he  must  attend  you  without  delay,  and  prepare  to  accom- 
pany you  to  the  Castle  of  Douglas  ;  but  he  would  not  an- 
swer a  single  word,  save  recommending  to  me  patience,  to 
which  I  was  fain  to  have  recourse,  as  well  as  your  archer, 
whom  I  found  standing  sentinel  before  the  door  of  the  cell, 
and  contenting  himself  with  the  assurance  of  the  sisters  that 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  431 

there  was  no  other  passage  by  which  Aagustiiie  could  make 
his  escape.  At  length  the  door  opens,  and  my  young  mas- 
ter presents  himself  fully  arrayed  for  his  journey.  The 
truth  is,  I  think  some  fresh  attack  of  his  malady  has  affected 
the  youth  :  he  may  perhaps  be  disturbed  with  some  touch  of 
hypochondria  or  black  choler — a  species  of  dotage  of  the 
mind  which  is  sometimes  found  concomitant  with  and  symp- 
tomatic of  this  disorder  ;  but  he  is  at  present  composed,  and 
if  your  worshij)  chooses  to  see  him,  he  is  at  your  command." 

"  Call  him  hither,"  said  the  knight.  And  a  considerable 
space  of  time  again  elapsed  ere  the  eloquence  of  the  abbot, 
half  chiding  and  half  soothing,  prevailed  on  the  lady,  in  her 
adopted  character,  to  approach  the  parlor,  in  which  a,t  last 
she  made  her  appearance,  with  a  countenance  on  which  the 
marks  of  tears  might  still  be  discovered,  and  a  pettish  sul- 
•lenness,  like  that  of  a  boy,  or,  with  reverence,  that  of  a  girl, 
who  is  determined  upon  taking  her  own  way  in  any  matter, 
and  equally  resolved  to  give  no  reason  for  her  doing  so.  Her 
hurried  levee  had  not  prevented  her  attending  closely  to  all 
the  mufflings  and  disguisings  by  which  her  pilgrim's  dress 
■was  arranged,  so  as  to  alter  her  appearance,  and  effectually 
disguise  her  sex.  But  as  civility  prevented  her  wearing  her 
large  slouched  hat,  she  necessarily  exposed  her  countenance 
more  than  in  the  open  air  ;  and  though  the  knight  beheld  a 
most  lovely  set  of  features,  yet  they  were  not  such  as  were 
inconsistent  with  the  character  she  had  adopted,  and  which 
she  had  resolved  upon  maintaining  to  the  last.  She  had,  ac- 
cordingly, mustered  up  a  degree  of  courage  which  was  not 
natural  to  her,  and  which  she  perhaps  supported  by  hopes 
which  her  situation  hardly  admitted.  So  soon  as  she  found 
herself  in  the  same  apartment  with  De  Valence,  she  assumed 
a  style  of  manners  bolder  and  more  determined  than  she  had 
hitherto  displayed. 

"  Your  worship,"  she  said,  addressing  him  even  before  he 
spoke,  "  is  a  knight  of  England,  and  possessed,  doubtless,  of 
the  virtues  which  become  that  noble  station.  I  am  an  un- 
fortun*ate  lad,  obliged,  by  reasons  which  I  am  under  the 
necessity  of  keeping  secret,  to  travel  in  a  dangerous  country, 
where  I  am  suspected,  without  any  just  cause,  of  becoming 
accessary  to  plots  and  conspiracies  which  are  contrary  to  my 
own  interest,  and  which  my  very  soul  abhors,  and  which  I 
might  safely  abjure,  by  imprecating  upon  myself  all  the 
curses  of  our  religion  and  renouncing  all  its  promises,  if  I 
were  accessary  to  such  designs  in  thought,  word,  or  deed. 
Nevertheless,  you,  who  will  not  believe  my  solemn  protesta- 


432  WA  VERLE Y  NO YEL S 

tions,  are  about  to  j^i'oceed  against  me  as  a  guilty  person, 
and  in  so  doing  I  must  warn  you,  sir  knight,  that  you  will 
commit  a  great  and  cruel  injustice." 

"  I  shall  endeavor  to  avoid  that,"  said  the  knight,  "  by  re- 
ferring the  duty  to  Sir  John  de  Walton,  the  governor,  who 
will  decide  what  is  to  be  done  ;  in  this  case,  my  only  duty 
will  be  to  place  you  in  his  hands  at  Douglas  Castle." 

"  Must  you  do  this  ?"  said  Augustine. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  knight,  "  or  be  answerable  for 
neglecting  my  duty." 

"  But  if  I  become  bound  to  answer  your  loss  with  a  large 
sum  of  money,  a  large  tract  of  land " 

"  No  treasure,  no  land,  supposing  such  at  your  disposal," 
answered  the  knight,  "  can  atone  for  disgrace  ;  and  besides, 
boy,  how  should  I  trust  to  your  warrant,  were  my  avarice 
such  as  would  induce  me  to  listen  to  such  proposals  ? " 

"I  must  then  prepare  to  attend  you  instantly  to  the 
Castle  of  Douglas  and  the  presence  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  ?" 
replied  Augustine. 

"  Young  man,"  answered  De  Valence,  "  there  is  no 
remedy,  since,  if  you  delay  me  longer,  I  must  carry  you 
thither  by  force." 

"  What  will  be  the  consequence  to  my  father  ?  "  said  the 
youth. 

"  That,"  replied  the  knight,  ''  will  depend  exactly  on  the 
nature  of  your  confession  and  his  ;  something  you  both  have 
to  say,  as  is  evident  from  the  terms  of  the  letter  Sir  John  de 
Walton  conveyed  to  you  ;  and  I  assure  you,  you  were  better 
to  speak  it  out  at  once  than  to  risk  the  consequences  of  more 
delay.  I  can  admit  of  no  more  trifling  ;  and,  believe  me, 
that  your  fate  will  be  entirely  ruled  by  your  own  frankness 
and  candor." 

"  I  must  prepare,  then,  to  travel  at  your  command,"  said 
the  youth.  "  But  this  cruel  disease  still  hangs  around  me, 
and  Abbot  Jerome,  whose  leechcraft  is  famous,  will  himself 
assure  you  that  I  cannot  travel  without  danger  of  my  life  ; 
and  that,  while  I  was  residing  in  this  convent,  I  declined 
every  op^iortunity  of  exercise  which  was  ofi'cred  me  by  the 
kindness  of  the  garrison  at  Hazelside,  lest  I  might  by  mis- 
hap bring  the  contagion  among  your  men." 

"The  youth  says  right,"  said  the  abbot:  "the  archers 
and  men-at-arms  have  more  than  once  sent  to  invite  this  lad 
to  join  in  some  of  their  military  games,  or  to  amuse  them, 
perhaps,  with  some  of  his  minstrelsy  ;  but  he  has  uniformly 
declined  doing  so ;  and,   according  to   my  belief,  it  is  the 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  433 

effects  of  this  disorder  which  have  prevented  his  accepting 
an  indulgence  so  natural  to  his  age,  and  in  so  dull  a  place  as 
the  convent  of  St.  Bride  must  needs  seem  to  a  youth  bred  up 
in  the  world." 

"  Do  you  then  hold,  reverend  father,"  said  Sir  Aymer, 
"  that  there  is  real  danger  in  carrying  this  youth  to  the  castle 
to-night,  as  I  proposed  ?  " 

"  I  conceive  such  danger,"  replied  the  abbot,  ''  to  exist, 
not  only  as  it  may  occasion  the  relapse  of  the  poor  youth  him- 
self, but  as  particularly  likely,  no  preparations  having  been 
made,  to  introduce  the  infection  among  your  honorable  gar- 
rison ;  for  it  is  in  these  relapses,  more  than  in  the  first  vio- 
lence of  the  malady,  that  it  has  been  found  most  contagious." 

"  Then,"  said  the  knight,  "  you  must  be  content,  my  friend, 
to  give  a  share  of  your  room  to  an  archer,  by  way  of  sen- 
tinel." 

"  I  cannot  object,"  said  Augustine,  ''provided  my  unfor- 
tunate vicinity  does  not  endanger  the  health  of  the  poor 
soldier." 

•'  He  will  be  as  ready  to  do  his  duty,"  said  the  aobot,  "  with- 
out the  door  of  the  apartment  as  within  it ;  and  if  the  youth 
should  sleep  soundly,  which  the  presence  of  a  guard  in  his 
chamber  might  prevent,  he  is  the  more  likely  to  answer  your 
purpose  on  the  morrow." 

"  Let  it  be  so,"  said  Sir  Aymer,  ''so  you  are  sure  that  you 
do  not  minister  any  facility  of  escape." 

"The  apartment,"  said  the  monk,  "hath  no  other  en- 
trance than  that  which  is  guarded  by  the  archer  ;  but  to 
content  you  I  shall  secure  the  door  in  your  presence." 

"  So  be  it,  then,"  said  the  knight  of  Valence  ;  "  this  done, 
I  myself  will  lie  down  without  doffing  my  mail-shirt,  and 
snatch  a  sleep  till  the  ruddy  dawn  calls  me  again  to  duty, 
when  you,  Augustine,  will  hold  yourself  ready  to  attend  me 
to  our  Castle  of  Douglas." 

The  bells  of  the  convent  summoned  the  inhabitants  and 
inmates  of  St.  Bride  to  morning  prayers  at  the  first  peep  of 
day.  When  this  duty  was  over,  the  knight  demanded  his 
prisoner.  The  abbot  marshaled  him  to  the  door  of  Augus- 
tine's chamber.  The  sentinel  v\^ho  was  stationed  there,  armed 
with  a  brown-bill,  or  species  of  partisan,  reported  that  he  had 
heard  no  motion  in  the  apartment  during  the  whole  night. 
The  abbot  tapped  at  the  door,  but  received  no  answer.  He 
knocked  again  louder,  but  the  silence  was  unbroken  from 
within. 

"  What  means  this  ?  "  said  the  reverend  ruler  of  the  con- 

88 


434  WAVERLEY  J^^OVELS 

vent  of  St.  Bride  ;  "  my  young  patient  has  certainly  fallen 
into  a  syncope  or  swoon  ! " 

''I  wish,  father  abbot/'  said  the  knight,  "that  he  may 
not  have  made  his  escape  instead — an  accident  which  both 
you  and  I  may  be  required  to  answer,  since,  according  to  our 
strict  duty,  we  ought  to  have  kept  sight  of  him,  and  detained 
him  in  close  custody  until  daybreak." 

"  I  trust  your  worship,"  said  the  abbot,  "  only  anticipates 
a  misfortune  which  I  cannot  think  possible." 

"  We  shall  speedily  see,"  said  the  knight ;  and,  raising  his 
voice,  he  called  aloud,  so  as  to  be  heard  witiiin,  "  Bring  crow- 
bars and  levers,  and  burst  me  that  door  into  s^^linters  with- 
out an  instant's  delay  !" 

The  loudness  of  his  voice,  and  the  stern  tone  in  which  he 
spoke,  soon  brougnt  around  him  the  brethren  of  the  house, 
and  two  or  three  soldiers  of  his  own  party,  who  were  already 
busy  in  caparisoning  their  horses.  The  displeasure  of  the 
young  kniglit  was  manifested  by  his  flushed  features  and  the 
abrupt  manner  in  which  he  again  repeated  his  commands  for 
breaking  open  the  door.  This  was  speedily  performed,  though 
it  required  the  aioplication  of  considerable  strength,  and  as 
the  shattered  remains  fell  crashing  into  the  apartment,  De 
Valence  sprung,  and  the  abbot  iiobbled,  into  the  cell  of  the 
prisoner,  whicli,  to  the  fulfilment  of  their  worst  suspicions, 
they  found  empty. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Where  is  he  ?    Has  the  deep  earth  swallow'd  him? 

Or  hath  he  melted  like  some  airy  phantom 

That  shuns  the  approach  of  morn  and  the  young  sun  ? 

Or  hath  he  wrapped  him  in  Cimmerian  darkness, 

And  pass'd  beyond  the  circuit  of  the  sight 

With  things  of  the  night's  shadows  ? 

Anonym(ms. 

The  disappearance  of  the  youth,  whose  disguise  and  whose 
fate  have,  we  hope,  inclined  our  readers  to  take  some  interest 
in  him,  will  require  some  explanation  ere  we  proceed  with 
the  other  personages  of  the  story,  and  Wb  shall  set  about 
giving  it  accordingly. 

When  Augustine  was  consigned  to  his  cell  for  the  second 
time  on  the  preceding  evening,  both  the  monk  and  the  young 
knight  of  Valence  had  seen  the  key  turned  upon  him,  and 
had  heard  him  secure  the  door  on  the  inside  with  the  bolt 
which  had  been  put  on  at  his  request  by  Sister  Ursula,  in 
whose  affections  the  youth  of  Augustine,  his  extreme  hand- 
someness, and,  above  all,  his  indisposition  of  body  and  hia 
melancholy  of  mind,  had  gained  him  considerable  interest. 

So  soon,  accordingly,  as  Augustine  re-entered  his  apart- 
ment, he  was  greeted  in  a  whisper  by  the  sister,  who,  during 
the  interval  of  his  absence,  had  contrived  to  slip  into  the  cell, 
and  having  tappiced  herself  behind  the  little  bed,  came  out, 
with  great  appearance  of  ]oy,  to  greet  the  return  of  the 
youth.  The  number  of  little  attentions,  the  disposal  of 
holly  boughs  and  such  other  evergreens  as  the  season  per- 
mitted, showed  the  anxiety  of  the  holy  sisters  to  decorate 
the  chamber  of  their  guest,  and  the  greetings  of  Sister  Ursula 
expressed  the  same  friendly  interest,  at  the  same  time  in- 
timating that  she  was  already  in  some  degree  in  possession 
of  the  stranger's  mystery. 

As  Augustine  and  the  holy  sister  were  busied  in  exchange 
of  confidence,  the  extraordinary  difference  between  their 
countenances  and  their  persons  must  have  struck  any  one 
who  might  have  been  accidentally  a  Avitness  of  their  inter- 
view. The  dark  pilgrim's  robe  of  the  disguised  female  was 
not  a  stronger  contrast  to  the  white  woolen  garment  worn 
435 


438  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

by  the  votaress  of  St.  Bride  than  the  visage  of  the  nun, 
seamed  with  muny  a  ghastly  scar,  and  the  light  of  one  of  hei 
eyes  extinguished  forever,  causing  it  to  roll  a  sightless 
luminary  in  her  head,  was  to  the  beautiful  countenance  of 
Augustine,  now  bent  with  a  confidential,  and  even  affec- 
tionate, look  upon  the  extraordinary  features  of  her  com- 
panion. 

"  You  know,"  said  the  supposed  Augustine,  "  the  princi 
pal  part  of  my  story  ;  can  you,  or  will  you,  lend  me  youi 
assistance  ?  If  not,  my  dearest  sister,  you  must  consent 
to  witness  my  death,  rather  than  my  shame.  Yes,  Sister 
iijrsuhi,  I  will  not  be  pointed  at  by  the  finger  of  scorn,  as 
the  thoughtless  maiden  who  sacrificed  so  much  for  a  young 
man  of  whose  attachment  she  was  not  so  well  assured  as  she 
ought  to  have  been.  I  will  not  be  dragged  before  De  Walton, 
for  the  purpose  of  being  compelled,  by  threats  of  torture,  to 
declare  myself  the  female  in  honor  of  whom  he  holds  the 
Dangerous  Castle.  No  doubt  he  might  be  glad  to  give  his 
hand  in  wedlock  to  a  damsel  whose  dowry  is  so  ample  ;  but 
who  can  tell  whether  he  will  regard  me  with  that  respect 
which  every  woman  would  wish  to  command,  or  pardon  that 
boldness  of  which  I  have  been  guilty,  even  though  its  con- 
sequences have  been  in  his  own  favor  ?" 

"Nay,  my  darling  daughter,"  answered  the  nun,  '^ com- 
fort yourself  ;  for  in  all  I  can  aid  you,  be  assured  I  will.  My 
means  are  somewhat  more  than  my  present  situation  may 
express,  and  be  assured  they  shall  be  tried  to  the  uttermost. 
Methinks  I  still  hear  that  lay  which  you  sung  to  the  other 
sisters  and  myself,  although  I  alone,  touched  by  feelings  kin- 
dred to  yours,  had  the  address  to  comprehend  that  it  told 
your  own  tale." 

"  I  am  yet  surprised,"  said  Augustine,  speaking  beneath 
her  breath,  "how  I  had  the  boldness  to  sing  in  your  eara 
the  lay,  which,  in  fact,  was  the  history  of  my  disgrace." 

"Alas  !  that  you  will  say  so,"  returned  the  nun  ;  "there 
was  not  a  word  but  what  resembled  those  tales  of  love  and 
of  high-spirited  daring  which  the  best  minstrels  love  to  cele- 
brate, and  the  noblest  knights  and  maidens  weep  at  onco 
and  smile  to  hear.  The  Lady  Augusta  of  Berkely,  a  great 
heiress,  according  to  the  world,  both  in  land  and  movable 
goods,  becomes  the  king's  ward  by  the  death  of  her  parents  ; 
and  thus  is  on  the  point  of  being  given  away  in  marriage  to 
a  minion  of  the  King  of  England,  whom  in  these  Scottish 
valleys  we  scruple  not  to  call  a  peremptory  tyrant." 

**  I  must  not  say  so,  my  sister,"  said  the  pilgrim  ;  "  and 


CAS  TL  E  DAN  GEE  O  US  4^? 

yet,  true  it  is  that  the  cousin  of  the  obscure  parasite  Gaves- 
ton,  on  whom  the  King  wished  to  confer  my  poor  hand,  was 
neither  by  birth,  merit,  nor  circumstance  worthy  of  such  an 
alliance.  Meantime  I  heard  of  the  fame  of  Sir  John  de 
Walton  ;  and  I  heard  of  it  not  with  the  less  interest  that  his 
feats  of  chivalry  were  said  to  adorn  a  knight  who,  rich  in 
everything  else,  was  poor  in  worldly  goods  and  in  the  smiles 
of  fortune.  I  saw  this  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  I  acknowl- 
edge that  a  thought,  which  had  already  intruded  itself  on 
my  imagination,  became  after  this  interview,  by  frequent 
recurrence,  more  familiar  and  more  welcome  to  me.  Me- 
thought  that  the  daughter  of  a  powerful  English  family,  if 
she  could  give  away  with  her  hand  such  wealth  as  the  world 
spoke  of,  would  more  justly  and  honorably  bestow  it  in 
remedying  the  errors  of  fortune  in  regard  to  a  gallant  knight 
like  De  Walton  than  in  patching  the  revenues  of  a  beggarly 
Frenchman,  whose  only  merit  was  in  being  the  kinsman  of 
a  man  who  was  very  generally  detested  by  the  whole  king- 
dom of  England,  excepting  the  infatuated  monarch  him- 
self." 

"  Nobly  designed,  my  daughter,"  said  the  nun  ;  "  what 
more  worthy  of  a  noble  heart,  possessing  riches,  beauty, 
birth,  and  rank,  than  to  confer  them  all  upon  indigent  and 
chivalrous  merit  ?" 

"  Such,  dearest  sister,  was  my  intention,"  replied  Augus- 
tine ;  "  but  I  have,  perhaps,  scarce  sufficiently  explained 
the  manner  in  which  I  meant  to  proceed.  By  the  advice  of 
a  minstrel  of  our  house,  the  same  who  is  now  prisoner  at 
Douglas,  I  caused  exhibit  a  large  feast  upon  Christmas  eve, 
and  sent  invitations  abroad  to  the  young  knight^  of  noble 
name  who  were  known  to  spend  their  leisure  in  quest  of 
arms  and  adventures.  When  the  tables  were  drawn  and  the 
feast  concluded,  Bertram,  as  had  been  before  devised,  was 
called  upon  to  take  his  harp.  He  sung,  receiving  from  all 
who  were  present  the  attention  due  to  a  minstrel  of  so  much 
fame.  The  theme  which  he  chose  was  the  frequent  capture 
of  this  Douglas  Castle,  or,  as  the  poet  termed  it.  Castle 
Dangerous.  ''Where  are  the  champions  of  the  renowned 
Edward  the  First,"  said  the  minstrel,  "  when  the  realm  of 
England  cannot  furnish  a  man  brave  enough,  or  sufficiently 
expert  in  the  wars,  to  defend  a  miserable  hamlet  of  the  North 
against  the  Scottish  rebels,  who  have  vowed  to  retake  it  over 
our  soldiers'  heads  ere  the  year  rolls  to  an  end  ?  Where  are 
the  noble  ladies  whose  smiles  used  to  give  countenance  to  the 
knights  of  St.  George's  cross  ?    Alas  !  the  spirit  of  love  and 


488  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  cliiralry  is  alike  dead  amongst  lis  :  our  knights  are  limited 
to  petty  enterprises,  and  our  noblest  heiresses  are  given  as 
prizes  to  strangers,  as  if  their  own  country  had  no  one  to 
deserve  them."  Here  stopped  the  harp  ;  and  I  shame  to  say 
that  I  myself,  as  if  moved  to  enthusiasm  by  the  song  of  the 
minstrel,  arose,  and  taking  from  my  neck  the  chain  of  gold 
which  supported  a  crucifix  of  special  sanctity,  I  made  my 
vow,  always  under  tlie  King's  permission,  that  I  would  give 
my  hand,  and  the  inheritance  of  my  fathers,  to  the  good 
knight,  being  of  noble  birth  and  lineage,  who  should  keep 
the  Castle  of  Douglas  in  the  King  of  England's  name  for  a 
year  and  a  day.  I  sat  down,  my  dearest  sister,  deafened 
with  the  jubilee  in  which  my  guests  expressed  their  applause 
of  my  supposed  patriotism.  Yet  some  degree  of  pause  took 
place  amidst  the  young  knights,  who  might  reasonably  have 
been  supposed  ready  to  embrace  this  offer,  although  at  the 
risk  of  being  encumbered  with  Augusta  of  Berkely." 

"  Shame  on  the  man,"  said  Sister  Ursula,  "who  should 
think  so  !  Put  your  beauty  alone,  my  dearest,  into  con- 
sideration, and  a  true  knight  ought  to  have  embraced  the 
dangers  of  twenty  Castles  of  Douglas,  rather  than  let  such 
an  invaluable  opportunity  of  gaining  your  favor  be  lost." 

"  It  may  be  that  some  in  reality  thought  so,"  said  the  pil- 
grim ;  "but  it  Avas  supposed  that  the  King's  favor  might  be 
lost  by  those  who  seemed  too  anxious  to  thAvart  his  royal 
purpose  upon  his  ward's  hand.  At  any  rate,  greatly  to  my 
joy,  the  only  person  who  availed  himself  of  the  offer  I  had 
made  was  Sir  John  de  Walton  ;  and  as  his  acceptance  of  it 
was  guarded  by  a  clause,  saving  and  reserving  the  King's 
approbation,  I  hope  he  has  not  suffered  any  diminution  of 
Edward's  favor." 

*' Assure  yourself,  noble  and  high-spirited  young  lady," 
replied  the  nun,  "  that  there  is  no  fear  of  thy  generous  de- 
votion hurting  thy  lover  with  the  King  of  England.  Some- 
thing we  hear  concerning  worldly  passages,  even  in  this  re- 
mote nook  of  St.  Bride's  cloister,  and  the  report  goes  among 
the  English  soldiers  that  their  king  was  indeed  offended  at 
your  putting  your  will  in  opposition  to  his  own  ;  yet,  on  the 
other  liand,  this  preferred  lover.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  wasa 
man  of  such  extensive  fame,  and  your  offer  was  so  much  in 
the  character  of  better  but  not  forgotten  times,  that  even  a 
king  could  not  at  the  beginning  of^a  long  and  stubborn  war 
deprive  an  errant  cavalier  of  his  bride,  if  she  should  be  duly 
won  by  his  sword  and  lance." 

"  Ah  I  dearest  Sister  Ursula  !  "  sighed  the  disguised  pil- 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  439 

grim,  "  but,  on  the  other  haud,  how  much  time  must  pass 
by  in  the  siege  by  defeating  vvliich  that  suit  must  needs  be 
advanced  ?  While  I  sat  in  my  lonely  castle,  tidings  after 
tidings  came  to  astound  me  with  the  numerous,  or  rather  the 
constant,  dangers  with  which  my  lover  was  surrounded,  until 
at  length,  in  a  moment  I  think  of  madness,  I  resolved  to  set 
out  in  this  masculine  disguise  ;  and  having  myself  with  my 
own  eyes  seen  in  what  situation  I  had  placed  my  knight,  I 
determined  to  take  such  measures  in  respect  to  shortening 
the  term  of  his  trial,  or  otherwise,  as  a  sight  of  Douglas 
Castle,  and — why  should  I  deny  it  ? — of  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
might  suggest.  Perhaps  you,  my  dearest  sister,  may  not  so 
well  understand  my  being  tempted  into  flinching  from  the 
resolution  which  I  had  laid  down  for  my  own  honor  and  that 
of  my  lover  ;  but  consider  that  my  resolution  was  the  conse- 
quence of  a  moment  of  excitation,  and  that  the  course  which 
I  adopted  was  the  conclusion  of  a  long,  wasting,  sickening 
state  of  uncertainty,  the  effect  of  which  was  to  weaken  the 
nerves  which  were  once  highly  strung  with  love  of  my 
country,  as  I  thought ;  but  in  reality,  alas  !  with  fond  and 
anxious  feelings  of  a  more  selfish  description/' 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Sister  Ursula,  evincing  the  strongest  symp- 
toms of  interest  and  compassion,  ''  am  I  the  person,  dearest 
child,  whom  you  suspect  of  insensibility  to  the  distresses 
which  are  the  fruit  of  true  love  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  the 
air  which  is  breathed  within  these  walls  has  the  property, 
upon  the  female  heart,  of  such  marvelous  fountains  as  they 
say  change  into  stone  the  substances  which  are  immersed 
into  their  waters  ?  Hear  my  tale,  and  judge  if  it  can  be 
thus  with  one  who  possesses  my  causes  of  grief.  And  do  not 
fear  for  loss  of  time  :  we  must  let  our  neighbors  at  Hazelside 
be  settled  for  the  evening  ere  I  furnish  you  with  the  means 
of  escape ;  and  you  must  have  a  trusty  guide,  for  whose 
fidelity  I  will  be  responsible,  to  direct  your  path  through 
these  woods,  and  protect  you  in  case  of  any  danger,  too 
likely  to  occur  in  these  troublesome  times.  It  will  thus  be 
nigh  an  hour  ere  you  depart ;  and  sure  I  am  that  in  no  manner 
can  you  spend  the  time  better  than  in  listening  to  distresses 
too  similar  to  your  own,  and  flowing  from  the  source  of  disap- 
pointed affection  which  you  must  needs  sympathize  with." 

The  distresses  of  the  Lady  Augusta  did  not  prevent  her 
being  in  some  degree  affected  almost  ludicrously  with  the 
singular  contrast  between  the  hideous  countenance  of  this 
victim  of  the  tender  passion  and  the  cause  to  which  she  im- 
puted her  sorrows ;  but  it  was  not  a  moment  for  giving  way 


440  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

to  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  which  would  have  been  in  the 
highest  degree  offensive  to  the  sister  of  St.  Bride,  whose 
good-will  she  had  so  many  reasons  to  conciliate.  She  readily, 
therefore,  succeeded  in  preparing  herself  to  listen  to  the 
votary  with  an  appearance  of  sympathy,  which  might  reward 
that  which  she  had  herself  experienced  at  the  hands  of  Sister 
Ursula  ;  while  the  unfortunate  recluse,  with  an  agitation 
which  made  her  ugliness  still  more  conspicuous,  narrated, 
nearly  in  a  whisper,  the  following  circumstances  : — 

"  My  misfortunes  commenced  long  before  I  was  called  Sis- 
ter Ursula,  or  secluded  as  a  votaress  within  these  walls.  My 
father  was  a  noble  Norman,  who,  like  many  of  his  country- 
men, sought  and  found  fortune  at  the  court  of  the  King  of 
Scotland.  He  was  endowed  with  the  sheriffdom  of  this 
county,  and  Maurice  de  Hattely,  or  Hautlieu,  was  numbered 
among  the  wealthy  and  powerful  barons  of  Scotland.  Where- 
fore should  I  deny  it,  that  the  daughter  of  this  baron,  then 
called  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  was  also  distinguished  among 
the  great  and  fair  of  the  land  ?  It  can  be  no  censurable 
vanity  which  provokes  me  to  speak  the  truth,  and  unless  I 
tell  it  myself,  you  could  hardly  suspect  what  a  resemblance 
I  once  bore  even  to  the  lovely  Lady  Augusta  of  Berkely. 
About  this  time  broke  out  those  unfortunate  feuds  of  Bruce 
and  Baliol  which  have  been  so  long  the  curse  of  this  country. 
My  father,  determined  in  his  choice  of  party  by  the  argu- 
ments of  his  wealthy  kinsmen  at  the  court  of  Edward,  em- 
braced with  passion  the  faction  of  the  English  interests,  and 
became  one  of  the  keenest  partisans,  at  first  of  John  Baliol, 
and  afterwards  of  the  English  monarch.  None  among  the 
Anglicized  Scottish,  as  his  party  was  called,  were  so  zealous 
as  he  for  the  red  cross,  and  no  one  was  more  detested  by  his 
countrymen  who  followed  the  national  standard  of  St.  An- 
drew and  the  patriot  Wallace.  Among  those  soldiers  of  the 
soil,  Malcolm  Fleming  of  Biggar  was  one  of  the  most  distiji- 
guished  by  his  noble  birth,  his  high  acquirements,  and  his 
fame  in  chivalry.  I  saw  him  ;  and  the  ghastly  specter  who 
now  addresses  you  must  not  be  ashamed  to  say  that  she 
loved,  and  was  beloved  by,  one  of  the  handsomest  youths  in 
Scotland.  Our  attachment  was  discovered  to  my  father 
almost  ere  we  had  owned  it  to  each  other,  and  he  was  furious 
both  against  my  lover  and  myself  ;  he  placed  me  under  the 
charge  of  a  religious  woman  of  this  rule,  and  I  was  immured 
within  the  house  of  St.  Bride,  where  my  father  shamed  not 
to  announce  he  would  cause  me  to  take  the  veil  by  force, 
unless  I  agreed  to  wed  a  youth  bred  at  the  English  courts 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  441 

his  nopliew  ;  and,  as  Heaven  had  granted  him  no  son,  the 
heir,  as  he  had  resolved,  of  the  house  of  Hautlieu.  1  was 
not  long  in  making  my  election.  I  protested  that  death 
should  be  my  choice,  rather  than  any  other  husband  except- 
ing Malcolm  Fleming.  Neither  was  my  lover  less  faithful : 
he  found  means  to  communicate  to  me  a  particular  night  on 
which  he  proposed  to  attempt  to  storm  the  nunnery  of  St. 
Bride,  and  carry  me  from  hence  to  freedom  and  the  green- 
wood, of  which  Wallace  was  generally  called  the  king.  In 
an  evil  hour — an  hour,  I  think,  of  infatuation  and  witchery 
— I  suffered  the  abbess  to  wheedle  the  secret  out  of  me, 
which  I  might  have  been  sensible  would  appear  more  horri- 
bly flagitious  to  her  than  to  any  other  woman  that  breathed  ; 
but  1  had  not  taken  the  vows,  and  I  thought  Wallace  and 
Fleming  had  the  same  charms  for  everybody  as  for  me.  and 
the  artful  woman  gave  me  reason  to  believe  that  her  loyalty 
to  Bruce  was  without  a  flaw  of  suspicion,  and  she  took  part 
in  a  plot  of  which  my  freedom  was  the  object.  The  abbess 
engaged  to  have  the  English  guards  removed  to  a  distance, 
and  in  appearance  the  troops  were  withdrawn.  Accordingly, 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  appointed,  the  window  of  my  cell, 
which  was  two  stories  from  the  ground,  was  opened  without 
noise  ;  and  never  were  my  eyes  more  gladdened  than;  as 
ready  disguised  and  arrayed  for  flight,  even  in  a  horseman's 
dress,  like  yourself,  fairest  Lady  Augusta,  I  saw  Malcolm 
Fleming  spring  into  the  apartment.  He  rushed  towards 
me  ;  but  at  the  same  time  my  father  with  ten  of  his  strong- 
est men  filled  the  room,  and  cried  their  war-cry  of  '  Baliol.' 
Blows  were  instantly  dealt  on  every  side.  A  form  like  a 
giant,  however,  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  and 
distinguished  himself,  even  to  my  half-giddy  eye,  by  the  ease 
with  which  he  bore  down  and  dispersed  those  who  fought 
against  our  freedom.  My  father  alone  offered  an  opposition 
which  threatened  to  prove  fatal  to  him  ;  for  Wallace,  it  was 
said,  could  foil  any  two  martial  champions  that  ever  drew 
sword.  Brushing  from  him  the  armed  men,  as  a  lady  would 
drive  away  with  her  fan  a  swarm  of  troublesome  flies,  he  se- 
cured me  in  one  arm,  used  his  other  for  our  mutual  protec- 
tion, and  I  found  myself  in  the  act  of  being  borne  in  safety 
down  the  ladder  by  which  my  deliverers  had  ascended  from 
without  ;  but  an  evil  fate  awaited  this  attempt. 

"  My  father,  whom  the  Champion  of  Scotland  had  spared 
for  my  sake,  or  rather  for  Fleming's,  gained  by  his  victor's 
compassion  and  lenity  a  fearful  advantage,  and  made  a  re- 
morseless use  of  it.     Having  only  his  left  hand  to  oppose  to 


4i2  WA  VERLEY  N  0  VELS 

the  maniac  attempts  of  my  father,  even  the  strength  of  Wal- 
lace could  not  prevent  the  assailant,  with  all  the  energy  of 
desperation,  from  throwing  down  the  ladder,  on  which  his 
daughter  was  perched  like  a  dove  in  the  grasp  of  an  eagle. 
The  Champion  saw  our  danger,  and,  exerting  all  his  inimit- 
able strength  and  agility,  cleared  himself  and  me  from  the 
ladder,  and  leaped  free  of  the  moat  of  the  convent,  into 
which  we  must  otherwise  have  been  precipitated.  The 
Champion  of  Scotland  was  saved  in  the  desperate  attempt, 
but  I,  who  fell  among  a  lieap  of  stones  and  rubbish — I,  the 
disobedient  daughter,  wellnigh  the  apostate  vestal — waked 
only  from  a  long  bed  of  sickness  to  find  myself  the  disfigured 
wretch  which  you  now  see  me.  I  then  learned  that  Malcolm 
had  escaped  from  the  fray,  and  shortly  after  I  heard,  with 
feelings  less  keen,  perhaps,  than  they  ought  to  have  been, 
that  my  father  was  slain  in  one  of  the  endless  battles  which 
took  place  between  the  contending  factions.  If  he  had  lived 
I  might  have  submitted  to  the  completion  of  my  fate  ;  but 
since  he  was  no  more,  I  felt  that  it  would  be  a  preferable  lot 
to  be  a  beggar  in  the  streets  of  a  Scottish  village  than  an 
abbess  in  this  miserable  house  of  St.  Bride ;  nor  was  even 
that  poor  object  of  ambition,  on  which  my  father  used  to 
expatiate  when  desirous  of  persuading  me  to  enter  the  mon- 
astic state,  by  milder  means  than  throwing  me  off  the  battle- 
ments, long  open  to  me.  The  old  abbess  died  of  a  cold  caught 
the  evening  of  the  fray  ;  and  the  place,  which  might  have 
been  kept  open  until  I  was  capable  of  filling  it,  was  disposed 
of  otherwise,  when  the  English  thought  fit  to  reform,  as  they 
termed  it,  the  discipline  of  the  house  ;  and,  instead  of  elect- 
ing a  new  abbess,  sent  hither  two  or  three  friendly  monks, 
who  have  now  the  absolute  government  of  the  community, 
and  wield  it  entirely  according  to  the  pleasure  of  the  English. 
But  I,  for  one,  Avho  have  had  the  honor  to  be  supported  by 
the  arms  of  the  Champion  of  my  country,  will  not  remain 
here  to  be  commanded  by  this  Abbot  Jerome.  I  will  go 
forth,  nor  do  I  fear  to  find  relations  and  friends  who  will  pro- 
vide a  more  fitting  place  of  refuge  for  Margaret  de  Hautlieu 
than  the  convent  of  St.  Bride  ;  you,  too,  dearest  lady,  shall 
obtain  your  freedom,  and  it  will  be  well  to  leave  such  infor- 
mation as  will  make  Sir  John  de  Walton  aware  of  the  devo- 
tion, with  which  his  happy  fate  has  inspired  you."' 

"It  is  not,  then,  your  own  intention,"'  said  the  Lady 
Augusta,  "to  return  into  the  world  again,  and  you  are  about 
to  renounce  the  lover  in  a  union  with  whom  you  and  he 
once  saw  your  joint  happiness  ? '' 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  443 

*'It  is  a  question,  my  dearest  child,"  said  Sister  Ursula, 
"which  I  dare  not  ask  myself , and  to  which  I  am  absolutely  un- 
certain what  answer  I  should  return.  I  have  not  taken  the  final 
and  irrevocable  vows  :  I  have  done  nothing  to  alter  my  situa- 
tion with  regard  to  Malcolm  Fleming.  He  also,  by  the  vows 
plighted  in  the  chancery  of  Heaven,  is  my  affianced  bride- 
groom, nor  am  I  conscious  that  I  less  deserve  his  faith  in  any 
respect  now  than  at  the  moment  it  was  pledged  to  me  ;  but 
I  confess,  dearest  lady,  that  rumors  have  reached  me  which 
sting  me  to  the  quick  :  the  reports  of  my  wounds  and  scars 
are  said  to  have  estranged  the  knight  of  my  choice.  I  am 
now  indeed  poor,"  she  added  with  a  sigh,  "  and  I  am  no 
longer  possessed  of  those  personal  charms  which  they  say  at- 
tract the  love  and  fix  the  fidelity  of  the  other  sex.  I  teach, 
myself,  therefore,  to  think,  in  my  moments  of  settled  resolu- 
tion, that  all  betwixt  me  and  Malcolm  Fleming  is  at  an  end, 
saving  good  wishes  on  the  part  of  both  towards  the  other  ; 
and  yet  there  is  a  sensation  in  my  bosom  which  whispers,  in 
spite  of  my  reason,  that,  if  I  absolutely  believed  that  which 
1  now  say,  there  would  be  no  object  on  earth  worthy  my  liv- 
ing for  in  order  to  attain  it.  This  insinuating  prepossession 
whispers  to  my  secret  soul,  and  in  very  opposition  to  my  rea- 
son and  understanding,  that  Malcolm  Fleming,  who  could 
pledge  his  all  upon  the  service  of  his  country,  is  incapable 
of  nourishing  the  versatile  affection  of  an  ordinary,  a  coarse, 
or  a  venial  character.  Methinks,  were  the  difference  upon 
his  part  instead  of  mine,  he  would  not  lose  his  interest  in  my 
eyes  because  he  was  seamed  with  honorable  scars,  obtained 
in  asserting  the  freedom  of  his  choice,  but  that  such  wounds 
would,  in  my  opinion,  add  to  his  merit,  whatever  they  took 
away  from  his  personal  comeliness.  Ideas  rise  on  my  soul,  as 
if  Malcolm  and  Margaret  might  yet  be  to  each  other  all  that 
their  affections  once  anticipated  with  so  much  security,  and 
that  a  change  which  took  nothing  from  the  honor  and  virtue 
of  the  beloved  person  must  rather  add  to  than  diminish  the 
charms  of  the  union.  Look  at  me,  dearest  Lady  Augusta — 
look  me,  if  you  have  courage — full  in  the  face,  and  tell  me 
whether  I  do  not  rave  when  my  fancy  is  thus  converting 
mere  possibilities  into  that  which  is  natural  and  probable." 
The  Lady  of  Berkely,  conscious  of  the  necessity,  raised 
her  eyes  on  the  unfortunate  nun,  afraid  of  losing  her  own 
chance  of  deliverance  by  the  mode  in  which  she  should  con- 
duct herself  in  this  crisis,  yet  not  willing  at  the  same  time  to 
flatter  the  unfortunate  Ursula  with  suggesting  ideas  for 
which  her  own  sense  told  her  she  could  hardly  find  any 


444  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

rational  grounds.  But  lier  imagination,  stored  with  the 
minstrelsy  of  the  time,  brouglit  back  to  her  recollection  the 
Loatlih^  Lady  in  The  Marriage  of  Sir  Gawain,  and  she 
conducted  her  reply  in  the  following  manner  : — 

"  You  ask  me,  my  dear  Lady  Margaret,  a  trying  question, 
which  it  would  be  unfriendly  to  answer  otherwise  than  sin- 
cerely, and  most  cruel  to  answer  with  too  much  rashness. 
It  is  true,  that  what  is  called  beauty  is  the  first  quality  on 
which  we  of  the  weaker  sex  learn  to  set  a  value  :  we  are 
flattered  by  the  imputation  of  personal  charms,  whether  we 
actually  possess  them  or  not ;  and  no  doubt  we  learn  to  place 
upon  them  a  great  deal  more  consequence  than  in  reality  is 
found  to  belong  to  them.  Women,  however,  even  such  as 
are  held  by  their  own  sex,  and  perhaps  in  secret  by  them- 
selves, as  devoid  of  all  pretensions  to  beauty,  have  been  known 
to  become,  from  their  understanding,  their  talents,  or  their 
accomplishments,  the  undoubted  objects  of  the  warmest 
attachment.  Wherefore,  then  should  you,  in  the  mere  rash- 
ness of  your  apprehension,  deem  it  impossible  that  your 
Malcolm  Fleming  should  be  made  of  that  porcelain  clay  of 
the  earth  which  despises  the  passing  captivations  of  outward 
form,  in  comparison  to  the  charms  of  true  affection  and  the 
excellence  of  talents  and  virtue  ?" 

The  nun  pressed  her  companion's  hand  to  her  bosom,  and 
answered  her  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"I  fear,"  she  said,  "  you  flatter  me  ;  and  yet,  in  a  crisis 
like  this,  it  does  one  good  to  be  flattered,  even  as  cordials, 
otherwise  dangerous  to  the  constitution,  are  wisely  given  to 
support  a  patient  through  a  paroxysm  of  agony,  and  enable 
him  to  endure  at  least  what  they  cannot  cure.  Answer  only 
one  question,  and  it  will  be  time  we  drop  this  conversation. 
Could  you,  sweet  lady — you  upon  whom  fortune  has  bestowed 
so  many  charms — could  any  argument  make  you  patient 
under  the  irretrievable  loss  of  your  personal  advantages,  with 
the  concomitant  loss,  as  in  my  case  is  most  probable,  of  that 
lover  for  whom  you  have  already  done  so  much  ?"  _ 

The  English  ladv  cast  her  eyes  again  on  her  friend,  and 
could  not  help  shuddering  a  little  at  the  thought  of  her  own 
beautiful  countenance  being  exchanged  for  the  seamed  and 
scarred  features  of  the  Lady  of  Hautlieu,  irregularly  lighted 
by  the  beams  of  a  single  eye. 

"  Believe  me,"  she  said,  looking  solemnly  upwards.  "  that, 
even  in  the  case  which  you  suppose,  I  would  not  sorrow  so 
much  for  myself  as  I  would  for  the  poor-spirited  thoughts  of 
the  lover  who  could  leave  me  because  those  transitory  charms 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  445 

— which  must  in  my  case  ere  long  take  their  departure — had 
fled  ere  yet  the  bridal  day.  It  is,  liowever,  concealed  by  the 
decrees  of  Providence  in  what  manner,  or  to  wliat  extent, 
other  persons,  with  whose  disposition  we  are  not  fully  ac- 
quainted, may  be  affected  by  such  changes.  I  can  only  as- 
sure you  that  my  hopes  go  with  yours,  and  that  there  is  no 
difficulty  which  shall  remain  in  your  path  in  future,  if  it  is 
in  my  power  to  remove  it.     Hark  !  " 

"  It  is  the  signal  of  our  freedom,"  replied  Ursula,  giving 
attention  to  something  resembling  the  Vv^hoop  of  the  night- 
owl.  *''We  must  prepare  to  leave  the  convent  in  a  few 
minutes.     Have  you  anything  to  take  with  you  ?  " 

''Nothing/'  answered  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  "  except  the 
few  valuables,  wliich  I  scarce  know  why  I  brought  with  me 
on  my  flight  hither.  This  scroll,  which  I  shall  leave  behind, 
gives  my  faithful  minstrel  permission  to  save  himself,  by 
confessing  to  Sir  John  de  Walton  who  the  person  really  is 
whom  he  has  had  within  his  roach." 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  the  novice  of  St.  Bride,  "through 
what  extraordinary  labyrinths  this  Love,  this  will-of  the-wisp, 
guides  his  votaries.  Take  heed  as  you  descend  ;  this  trap- 
door, carefully  concealed,  curiously  jointed  and  oiled,  leads 
to  a  secret  postern,  where  I  conceive  the  horses  already  wait, 
which  will  enable  us  speedily  to  bid  adieu  to  St.  Bride's — 
Heaven's  blessing  on  her  and  on  her  convent  f  We  can  have 
no  advantage  from  any  light  until  we  are  in  the  open  air." 

During  this  time.  Sister  Ursula,  to  give  her  for  the  last 
time  her  conventual  name,  exchanged  her  stole,  or  loose 
Tipper  garment,  for  the  more  succinct  cloak  and  hood  of  a 
horseman.  She  led  the  way  through  divers  passages,  studi- 
ously complicated,  until  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  with  throbbing 
heart,  stood  in  the  pale  and  douljtful  moonlight,  which  was 
shining  with  gray  uncertainty  upon  the  walls  of  the  ancient 
building.  The  imitation  of  an  owlet's  cry  directed  them  to 
a  neighboring  large  elm,  and  on  approaching  it  they  were 
aware  of  three  horses,  held  by  one  concerning  whom  they 
could  only  see  that  he  was  tall,  strong,  and  accoutered  in  the 
dress  of  a  man-at-arms. 

"The  sooner,"  he  said,  "we  are  gone  from  this  place. 
Lady  Margaret,  it  is  so  much  the  better.  You  have  only  to 
direct  the  course  which  we  shall  hold." 

Lady  Margaret's  answer  was  given  beneath  her  breath  ; 
and  replied  to  with  a  caution  from  the  guide  to  ride  slowly 
and  silently  for  the  first  quarter  of  an  hour,  by  which  time 
inhabited  places  would  be  left  at  a  distance. 


CHAPTER  XII 

trREAT  was  the  astonishment  of  the  young  knight  of  Valence 
and  the  reverend  Father  Jerome,  when,  upon  breaking  into 
the  cell,  they  discovered  the  youthful  pilgrim's  absence  ;and, 
from  the  garments  which  were  left,  saw  every  reason  to  think 
that  the  one-eyed  novice,  Sister  Ursula,  had  accompanied 
him  in  his  escape  from  custody.  A  thousand  thoughts 
thronged  upon  Sir  Aymer,  how  shamefully  he  had  suffered 
himself  to  be  outwitted  by  the  artifices  o±  a  boy  and  a  novice. 
His  reverend  companion  in  error  felt  no  less  contrition  for 
having  recommended  to  the  knight  a  mild  exercise  of  his 
authority.  Father  Jerome  had  obtained  his  preferment 
as  abbot  upon  the  faith  of  his  zeal  for  the  cause  of  the 
English  monarch,  with  the  affected  interest  in  which  he  was 
at  a  loss  to  reconcile  his  proceedings  of  the  last  night.  A 
hurried  inquiry  took  place,  from  which  little  could  be 
learned,  save  that  the  young  pilgrim  had  most  certainly  gone 
off  with  the  Lady  Margaret  de  Hautlieu— an  incident  at 
which  the  females  of  the  convent  expressed  surprise, 
mingled  with  a  great  deal  of  horror  ;  while  that  of  the  males, 
whom  the  news  "soon  reached,  was  qualified  with  a  degree  of 
wonder,  which  seemed  to  be  founded  upon  the  very  different 
personal  appearance  of  the  two  fugitives. 

"  Sacred  Virgin,"  said  a  nun,  "  who  could  have  conceived 
the  hopeful  votaress.  Sister  Ursula,  so  lately  drowned  in 
tears  for  her  father'is  untimely  fate,  capable  of  eloping  with 
a  boy  scarce  fourteen  years  old  ?  " 

"And,  holy  St.  Bride! ''said  the  Abbot  Jerome,  ''what 
could  have  made  so  handsome  a  young  man  leud  his  arm  to 
assist  such  a  nightmare  as  Sister  Ursula  in  the  commission 
of  so  great  an  enormity  ?  Certainly  he  can  neither  plead 
temptation  nor  seduction,  but  must  have  gone,  as  the  worldly 
phrase  is,  to  the  devil  with  a  dish-clout." 

"  I  must  disperse  the  soldiers  to  pursue  the  fugitives," 
said  De  Valence,  "unless  this  letter,  which  the  pilgrim  must 
have  left  behind  him,  shall  contain  some  explanations  re- 
specting our  mvsterious  prisoner." 

After  viewing  the  contents  with  some  surprise,  he  read 
aloud — "The  undersigned,  late  residing  in  the  house  of  St 
446 


CA StLE  DA NGEROUS  447 

Bride,  do  you,  Father  Jerome,  the  abbot  of  said  house,  to 
know  that,  finding  you  were  disposed  to  treat  me  as  a  prisoner 
and  a  spy,  in  the  sanctuary  to  which  you  had  received  me 
as  a  distressed  person,  I  have  resolved  to  use  my  natural 
libert}^,  with  which  you  have  no  right  to  interfere,  and  there- 
fore have  withdrawn  myself  from  your  abbacy.  Moreover, 
finding  that  the  novice  called  in  your  convent  Sister  Ursula 
— who  hath,  by  monastic  rule  and  discipline,  a  fair  title  to 
return  to  the  world  unless  she  is  pleased,  after  a  year's  novi- 
ciate, to  profess  herself  sister  of  your  order — is  determined 
to  use  such  privilege,  I  joyfully  take  the  opportunity  of  her 
company  in  this  her  lawful  resolution,  as  being  what  is  in 
conformity  to  the  law  of  God,  and  the  precepts  of  St.  Bride, 
which  gave  you  no  authority  to  detain  any  person  in  your 
convent  by  force,  who  hath  not  taken  upon  her  irrevocably 
the  vows  of  the  order. 

"  To  you,  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence, 
knights  of  England,  commanding  the  garrison  of  Douglas 
Dale,  I  have  only  to  say,  that  you  have  acted  and  are  acting 
against  me  under  a  mystery,  the  solution  of  which  is  com- 
prehended in  a  secret  known  only  to  my  faithful  minstrel, 
Bertram  of  the  many  Lays,  as  whose  son  I  have  found  it 
convenient  to  pass  myself.  But,  as  I  cannot  at  this  time 
prevail  upon  myself  personally  to  discover  a  secret  which 
cannot  well  be  unfolded  without  feelings  of  shame,  I  not  only 
give  permission  to  the  said  Bertram  the  minstrel,  but  I  charge 
and  command  him,  that  he  tell  to  you  the  purpose  with 
which  I  came  originally  to  the  Castle  of  Douglas.  When 
this  is  discovered,  it  will  only  remain  to  express  my  feelings 
towards  the  two  knights,  in  return  for  the  pain  and  agony  of 
mind  which  their  violence  and  threats  of  further  severities 
have  occasioned  me. 

''  And  first,  respecting  Sir  Aymer  de  A^alence,  I  freely  and 
willingly  forgive  him  for  having  been  involved  in  a  mistake 
to  which  I  myself  led  the  w^ay,  and  I  shall  at  all  times  be 
happy  to  meet  with  him  as  an  acquaintance,  and  never  to 
think  farther  of  his  part  in  these  few  days'  history,  saving 
as  matter  of  mirth  and  ridicule. 

"But  respecting  Sir  John  de  Walton,  I  must  request  of 
him  to  consider  whether  his  conduct  towards  me,  standing 
as  we  at  present  do  towards  each  other,  is  such  as  he  himself 
ought  to  forget,  or  I  ought  to  forgive  ;  and  I  trust  he  will 
understand  me  when  I  tell  him  that  all  former  connections 
must  henceforth  be  at  an  end  between  him  and  the  supposed 

"Augustine." 


448  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*'  This  is  madness/'  said  the  ahbot,  when  he  had  read  the 
letter — "  very  midsummer  madness,  not  unfrequently  an 
accompaniment  of  this  pestilential  disease,  and  I  should  do 
well  in  requiring  of  those  soldiers  who  shall  first  apprehend 
this  youth  Augustine,  that  they  reduce  his  victuals  imme- 
diately to  water  and  bread,  taking  care  that  the  diet  do  not 
exceed  in  measure  what  is  necessary  to  sustain  nature  ;  nay, 
I  should  be  warranted  by  the  learned,  did  I  recommend  a 
sufficient  intermixture  cf  flagellation  with  belts,  stirrup- 
leathers,  or  surcingles,  and  failing  those,  with  riding-whips, 
switches,  and  the  like/' 

"  Hush  !  my  reverend  father,"  said  De  Valence,  ''a  light 
begins  to  break  in  upon  me.  John  de  Walton,  if  my  suspi- 
cion be  true,  would  sooner  expose  his  own  flesh  to  be  hewn 
from  his  bones  than  have  this  Augustine's  finger  stung  by  a 
gnat.  Instead  of  treating  this  youth  as  a  madman,  I,  for 
my  own  part,  will  be  contented  to  avow  that  I  myself  have 
been  bewitched  and  fascinated  ;  and  by  my  honor,  if  I  send 
out  my  attendants  in  quest  of  the  fugitives,  it  shall  be  with 
the  strict  charge  that,  when  apprehended,  they  treat  them 
with  all  respect,  and  protect  them,  if  they  object  to  return 
to  this  house,  to  any  honorable  place  of  refuge  which  they 
may  desire." 

"I  hope,"  said  the  abbot,  '* looking  strangely  confused, 
**  I  shall  be  first  heard  in  behalf  o£  the  church  concerning 
this  alfair  of  an  abducted  nun  ?  You  see  yourself,  sir  kniglit, 
that  this  scapegrace  of  a  minstrel  avouches  neither  repen- 
tance nor  contrition  at  his  share  in  a  matter  so  flagitious/' 

"You  shall  be  secured  an  opportunity  of  being  fully 
heard,"  replied  the  knight,  "if  you  shall  find  at  last  that 
you  really  desire  one.  Meantime,  I  must  back,  without  a  mo- 
ment's delay,  to  inform  Sir  John  de  Walton  of  the  turn  which 
affairs  have  taken.  Farewell,  reverend  father.  By  my 
honor,  we  may  wish  each  other  joy  that  we  have  escaped  from 
a  troublesome  charge,  which  brought  as  much  terror  with  it 
as  the  phantoms  of  a  fearful  dream,  and  is  yet  found  capable 
of  being  dispelled  by  a  cure  as  simple  as  that  of  awakening 
the  sleeper.  But,  by  St.  Bride  !  both  churchmen  and  lay- 
men are  bound  to  sympathize  with  the  unfortunate  Sir  John 
de  Walton.  I  tell  thee,  father,  that  if  this  letter  "—touch- 
ing the  missive  with  his  finger — "  is  to  be  construed  literally, 
as  far  as  respects  him,  he  is  the  man  most  to  be  pitied  be- 
twixt the  brink  of  Solway  and  the  place  where  we  now  stand. 
Suspend  thy  curiosity,  most  worthy  churchman,  lest  there 
should  be  more  in  this  matter  than  I  myself  see ;  so  that). 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  449 

while  thinking  that  I  have  lighted  on  the  true  explanation, 
I  may  not  have  to  acknowledge  that  I  have  been  again  leading 
you  into  error.  Sound  to  horse  there  !  Ho  ! "  he  called  out 
from  the  window  of  tlie  apartment  ;  "and  let  the  party  I 
brought  hither  prepare  to  scour  tlie  woods  on  their  return." 

"By  my  faith  I"  said  Father  Jerome,  "I  am  right  glad 
that  this  young  nutcracker  is  going  to  leave  me  to  my  own 
meditation.  I  hate  when  a  young  person  pretends  to  under- 
stand whatever  passes,  while  his  betters  are  obliged  to  confess 
that  it  is  all  a  mystery  to  them.  Such  an  assumption  is  like 
that  of  the  conceited  fool.  Sister  Ursula,  who  pretended  to 
read  with  a  single  eye  a  manuscript  which  I  myself  could  not 
find  intelligible  with  the  assistance  of  my  spectacles." 

This  might  not  have  quite  pleased  the  young  knight,  nor 
was  it  one  of  those  truths  which  the  abbot  would  have  chosen 
to  deliver  in  his  hearing.  But  the  knight  had  shaken  him 
by  the  hand,  said  adieu,  and  was  already  at  Hazehide,  issu- 
ing particular  orders  to  little  troops  of  the  archers  and  otliers, 
and  occasionally  chiding  Thomas  Dickson,  who,  with  a  degree 
of  curiosity  which  the  English  knight  was  not  very  willing 
to  excuse,  had  been  endeavoring  to  get  some  account  of  the 
occurrences  of  the  night. 

"  Peace,  fellow  ! "  he  said,  "  and  mind  thine  own  business, 
being  well  assured  that  the  hour  will  come  in  which  it  will 
require  all  the  attention  thou  canst  give,  leaving  others  to 
take  care  of  their  own  affairs." 

"  If  I  am  suspected  of  anything,"  answered  Dickson,  in  a 
tone  rather  dogged  and  surly  than  otherwise,  "methinks  it 
it  were  but  fair  to  let  me  know  what  accusation  is  brought 
against  me.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  chivalry  prescribes  that 
a  knight  should  not  attack  an  enemy  undefied." 

"  When  you  are  a  knight,"  answered  Sir  Aymer  de  Val- 
ence, "  it  will  be  time  enough  for  me  to  reckon  with  you 
upon  the  points  of  form  due  to  you  by  the  laws  of  chivalry. 
Meanwhile,  you  had  best  let  me  know  what  share  you  have 
had  in  playing  off  the  martial  phantom  which  sounded 
the  rebellious  slogan  of  Douglas  in  the  town  of  tha:  name  ?" 

"  I  know  nothing  of  what  you  speak,"  answered  the  good- 
man  of  Hazelside, 

"  See  then,"  said  tbe  knight,  "  that  you  do  not  engage 
yourself  in  the  affairs  of  other  people,  even  if  your  conscience 
warrants  that  you  are  in  no  danger  from  your  own." 

So  saying,  he  rode  off,  not  waiting  any  answer.  The  ideas 
which  iilled  his  head  were  to  the  following  purpose  : — 

"  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  one  mist  seems  no  sooner  to 
29 


450  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

clear  away  than  we  find  ourselves  engaged  in  another.  1  take 
it  for  granted  that  the  disguised  damsel  is  no  other  than  the 
goddess  of  Walton's  private  idolatry,  who  has  cost  him  and 
me  80  much  trouble,  and  some  certain  degree  of  misunder- 
standing, during  these  lust  weeks.  By  my  honor  !  this  fair 
lady  is  right  lavish  in  the  pardon  which  she  has  so  frankly 
bestowed  upon  me,  and  if  she  is  willing  to  be  less  complais- 
ant to  Sir  John  de  Walton,  why  then And  what  then  ? 

It  surely  does  not  infer  that  she  would  receive  me  into  that 
place  in  her  affections  from  which  she  has  just  expelled  De 
Walton  ?  Xor,  if  she  did,  could  I  avail  myself  of  a  change 
in  favor  of  myself,  at  the  expense  of  my  friend  and  compan- 
ion-in-arms. "  It  were  a  folly  even  to  dream  of  a  thing  so  im- 
probable. But  with  respect  to  the  other  business,  it  is  worth 
serious  consideration.  Yon  sexton  seems  to  have  kept  com- 
pany with  dead  bodies  until  he  is  unfit  for  the  society  of  the 
living  ;  and  as  to  that  Dickson  of  Hazelside,  as  they  call  him, 
there  is  no  attempt  against  the  English  during  these  endless 
wars  in  which  that  man  has  not  been  concerned  ;  had  my  life 
depended  upon  it,  I  could  not  have  prevented  myself  from 
intimating  mv  suspicions  of  him,  let  him  take  it  as  he  lists." 

So  saving,  the  knight  spurred  his  horse,  and  arriving  at 
Douglas  Castle  without  farther  adventure,  demanded,  in  a 
tone  of  greater  cordiality  than  he  had  of  late  used,  whether 
he  could  be  admitted  to"  Sir  John  de  Walton,  having  some- 
thing of  consequence  to  report  to  him.  He  was  immediately 
ushered  into  an  apartment  in  which  the  governor  was  seated 
at  his  solitarv  breakfast.  Considering  the  terms  upon  which 
they  had  lately  stood,  the  governor  of  Douglas  Dale  was  some- 
what surprised  at  the  easy  familiarity  with  which  De  Valence 
now  approached  him. 

"  Some  uncommon  news,''  said  Sir  John,  rather  gravely, 
''  have  brought  me  the  honor  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence's 
company."  .  i  .  ,     . 

''It-is,"  answered  Sir  Aymer,  "  what  seems  of  high  im- 
portance to  your  interest.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  therefore 
1  were  to  blame  if  I  lost  a  moment  in  communicating  it." 

"I  shall  be  proud  to  profit  by  your  intelligence/'  said  Sir 
John  de  Walton. 

"And  I.  too,"  said  the  young  knight,  ''am  loth  to  lose 
the  credit  of  having  penetrated  a  mystery  which  blinded  Sir 
John  de  Walton.  At  the  same  time,  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
thought  capable  of  jesting  with  you,  which  might  be  the  case 
were'l,  from  misapprehension,  to  give  a  false  key  to  this 
matter.     With  your  permission,  then,  we  will  proceed  thus  ' 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  451 

we  go  together  to  the  place  of  Bertram  the  minstrel's  con- 
finement. 1  have  in  my  possession  a  scroll  from  the  young 
person  who  was  entrusted  to  the  care  of  the  Abbot  Jerome ; 
it  is  written  in  a  delicate  female  hand,  and  gives  authority 
to  the  minstrel  to  declare  the  purpose  which  brought  them 
to  this  vale  of  Douglas." 

"It  must  be  as  you  say/'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  *' al- 
though 1  can  scarce  see  occasion  for  adding  so  much  form  to 
a  mystery  which  can  be  expressed  in  such  small  compass." 

Accordingly  the  two  knights,  a  warder  leading  the  way, 
proceeded  to  the  dungeon  to  which  the  minstrel  had  been 
removed. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  doors  of  the  stronghold  being  undone  displayed  a  dun- 
geon such  as  in  those  days  held  victims  hopeless  of  escape, 
but  in  which  the  ingenious  knave  of  modern  times  would 
scarcely  have  deigned  to  remain  many  hours.  The  huge 
rings  by  which  the  fetters  were  soldered  together  and  at- 
tached to  the  human  body  were,  when  examined  minutely, 
found  to  be  clenched  together  by  riveting  so  very  thin  that, 
when  rubbed  with  corrosive  acid,  or  patientiy  ground  witli 
a  bit  of  sandstone,  the  hold  of  the  fetters  upon  each  other 
might  be  easily  forced  asunder,  and  the  purpose  of  them 
entirely  frustrated.  The  locks  also,  large,  and  apparently 
very  strong,  were  so  coarsely  made  that  an  artist  of  small 
ingenuity  could  easily  contrive  to  get  the  better  of  their 
fastenings  upon  the  same  principle.  The  daylight  found  its 
way  to  the  subterranean  dungeon  only  at  noon,  and  through 
a  passage  which  was  purposely  made  tortuous,  so  as  to  ex- 
clude the  rays  of  the  sun,  while  it  presented  no  obstacle  to 
wind  or  rain.  The  doctrine  that  a  prisoner  was  to  be  es- 
teemed innocent  until  he  should  be  found  guilty  by  his  peers 
was  not  understood  in  those  days  of  brute  force,  and  he  was 
only  accommodated  with  a  lamp  or  other  alleviation  of  his 
misery  if  his  demeanor  was  quiet,  and  he  appeared  disposed 
to  give  his  Jailer  no  trouble  by  attempting  to  make  his 
escape.  Such  a  cell  of  confinement  was  that  of  Bertram, 
whose  moderation  of  temper  and  patience  had  nevertheless 
procured  for  him  such  mitigations  of  his  fate  as  the  warder 
could  grant.  He  was  permitted  to  carry  into  his  cell  the  ola 
book,  in  the  perusal  of  which  he  found  an  amusement  of  his 
solitude,  together  with  writing-materials,  and  such  other 
helps  towards  spending  his  time  as  were  consistent  with  his 
abode  in  the  bosom  of  the  rock,  and  the  degree  of  informa- 
tion with  which  his  minstrel  craft  had  possessed  him.  He 
raised  his  head  from  the  table  as  the  knights  entered,  while 
the  governor  observed  to  the  young  knight — 

"  As  you  seem  to  think  yourself  possessed  of  the  secret  of 
this  prisoner,  I  leave  to  you.  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  to  bring 
it  to  light  in  the  manner  which  you  shall  judge  most  expedi- 
ent,    if  the  man  or  his  son  have  suffered  unnecessary  hard- 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  453 

ship,  it  shall  be  my  duty  to  make  amends — which,  I  suppose, 
can  be  no  very  important  matter." 

Bertram  looked  up,  and  fixed  his  eyes  full  upon  the  gov- 
ernor, but  read  nothing  in  his  looks  which  indicated  his 
being  better  acquainted  than  before  with  the  secret  of  his 
imprisonment.  Yet,  upon  turning  his  eye  towards  Sir 
Aymer,  his  countenance  evidently  lighted  up,  and  the  glance 
which  passed  between  them  was  one  of  intelligence. 

"  You  have  my  secret,  then,"  said  he,  "  and  you  know 
who  it  is  tliat  passes  under  the  name  of  Augustine  ?" 

Sir  Aymer  exchanged  with  him  a  look  of  acquiescence  ; 
while,  the  eyes  of  the  governor  glancing  wildly  from  the 
prisoner  to  the  knight  of  Valence,  [he]  exclaimed— 

"  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  as  you  are  belted  knight  and 
Christian  man,  as  you  have  honor  to  preserve  on  earth  and 
a  soul  to  rescue  after  death,  I  charge  you  to  tell  me  the 
meaning  of  this  mystery  !  It  may  be  that  you  conceive, 
with  truth,  that  you  have  subject  of  complaint  against  me. 
If  so,  I  will  satisfy  you  as  a  knight  may." 

The  minstrel  spoke  at  the  same  moment.  "  I  charge  this 
knight,"  he  said,  "  by  his  vow  of  chivalry,  that  he  do  not 
divulge  any  secret  belonging  to  a  person  of  honor  and  of 
character,  unless  he  has  positive  assurance  that  it  is  done 
entirely  by  that  person's  own  consent." 

"  Let  this  note  remove  your  scruples,"  said  Sir  Aymer, 
putting  the  scroll  into  the  hands  of  the  minstrel  ;  "  and  for 
you.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  far  from  retaining  the  least  feeling 
of  any  misunderstanding  which  may  have  existed  between 
:is,  I  am  disposed  entirely  to  bury  it  in  forgetfulness,  as 
having  arisen  out  of  a  series  of  mistakes  which  no  mortal 
could  have  comprehended.  And  do  not  be  offended,  my 
dear  Sir  John,  when  I  protest  on  my  knightly  faith,  that  I 
pity  the  pain  which  I  think  this  scroll  is  likely  to  give  you, 
and  that,  if  my  utmost  efforts  can  be  of  the  least  service  to 
you  in  unraveling  this  tangled  skein,  I  will  contribute  them 
with  as  much  earnestness  as  ever  I  did  aught  in  my  life.  This 
faithful  minstrel  will  now  see  that  he  can  have  no  difficulty 
in  yielding  up  a  secret  which  I  doubt  not,  but  for  the  writing 
I  have  just  put  into  his  hands,  he  would  have  continued  to 
keep  with  unshaken  fidelity." 

Sir  Aymer  now  placed  in  De  Walton's  hand  a  note,  in 
which  he  had,  ere  he  left  St.  Bride's  convent,  signified  his 
own  interpretation  of  the  mystery  ;  and  the  governor  had 
Bcarcely  read  the  name  it  contained,  before  the  same  name 
was  pronounced  alo  ad  by  Bertram,  who  at  the  same  moment 


454  WA  VERLEY  NO  VELS 

handed  to  the  governor  the  scroll  which  he  had  received  from 
the  knight  of  Valence. 

The  white  plume  which  floated  over  the  knight's  cap  of 
maintenance,  which  was  worn  as  a  head-piece  within  doors, 
was  not  more  pale  in  complexion  than  was  the  knight  him- 
self at  the  unexpected  and  surprising  information  that  the 
lady  who  was,  in  chivalrous  phrase,  empress  of  his  thoughts 
and  commander  of  his  actions,  and  to  whom,  even  in  less 
fantastic  times,  he  must  have  owed  the  deepest  gratitude  for 
the  generous  election  which  she  had  made  in  his  favor,  was  the 
same  person  whom  he  had  threatened  with  personal  violence, 
and  subjected  to  hardships  and  affronts  which  he  would 
not  willingly  have  bestowed  even  upon  the  meanest  of  her  sex. 

Yet  Sir  John  de  Walton  seemed  at  first  scarcely  to  com- 
prehend tlie  numerous  ill  consequences  which  might  prob- 
ably follow  this  unhappy  complication  of  mistakes.  _  He  took 
the  paper  from  the  minstrel's  hand,  and  while  his  eye,  as- 
sisted by  the  lamp,  wandered  over  the  characters  without 
apparently  their  conveying  any  distinct  impression  to  his 
understanding,  De  Valence  even  became  alarmed  that  he  was 
about  to  lose  his  faculties. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,"  he  said,  "be  a  man,  and  sup- 
port with  manly  steadiness  these  unexpected  occurrences — ■ 
I  would  fain  think  they  will  reach  to  nothing  else — which 
the  wit  of  man  could  not  have  prevented.  This  fair  lady,  I 
would  fain  hope,  cannot  be  much  hurt  or  deeply  offended 
by  a  train  of  circumstances  the  natural  consequence  of  your 
anxiety  to  discharge  perfectly  a  duty  upon  which  must  de- 
pend the  accomplishment  of  all  the  hopes  she  had  permitted 
you  to  entertain.  In  God's  name,  rouse  up,  sir  ;  let  it  not 
be  said  that  an  apprehended  frown  of  a  fair  lady  hath  damped 
to  such  a  degree  the  courage  of  the  boldest  knight  in  Eng- 
land :  be  what  men  have  called  you,  'Walton  the  Unwaver- 
ing.' In  Heaven's  name,  let  us  at  least  see  that  the  lady  is 
indeed  offended  before  we  conclude  that  she  is  irreconcil- 
ably so.  To  whose  fault  are  we  to  ascribe  the  source  of  all 
these  errors  ?  Surely,  with  all  due  respect,  to  the  caprice 
of  the  lady  herself,  which  has  engendered  such  a  nest  of 
mistakes.  Think  of  it  as  a  man  and  as  a  soldier.  Suppose 
that  you  yourself,  or  I,  desirous  of  proving  the  fidelity  of 
our  sentinels,  or  for  any  other  reason,  good  or  bad,  attempted 
to  enter  this  Dang'-erous  Castle  of  Douglas  without  giv- 
ing the  password  to  the  warders,  would  we  be  entitled  to 
blame  those  upon  duty  if,  not  knowing  our  persons,  they 
manfully  refused  us  entrance,  made  us  prioners,  and  mia* 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  455 

handled  us  while  resisting  our  attempt,  in  terms  of  the  or- 
ders which  vve  ourselves  had  imposed  upon  them  ?  What  is 
there  that  makes  a  difference  between  such  a  sentinel  and 
yourself,  John  de  Walton,  in  this  curious  affair,  which,  by 
Heaven  !  would  rather  form  a  gay  subject  for  the  minstrelsy 
of  this  excellent  bard  than  the  theme  of  a  tragic  lay  ? 
Come  !  look  not  thus,  Sir  John  de  Walton  ;  be  angry,  if  you 
will,  with  the  lady  who  has  committed  such  a  piece  of  folly  -, 
or  with  me,  who  have  rode  up  and  down  nearly  all  night  on 
a  fool's  errand,  and  spoiled  my  best  horse,  in  absolute  un- 
certainty how  I  shall  get  another  till  my  uncle  of  Pembroke 
and  I  shall  be  reconciled  ;  or,  lastly,  if  you  desire  to  be  to- 
tally absurd  in  your  wrath,  direct  it  against  this  worthy 
minstrel  on  account  of  his  rare  fidelity,  and  punish  him  for 
that  for  which  he  better  deserves  a  chain  of  gold.  Let  pas- 
sion out  if  you  will :  but  chase  this  desponding  gloom  from 
the  brow  of  a  man  and  a  belted  knight." 

Sir  John  de  Walton  made  an  effort  to  speak,  and  suc- 
ceeded with  some  difficulty,  "  Aymer  de  Valence,"  he  said, 
"  in  irritating  a  madman  you  do  but  sport  with  your  own 
life  ;  "  and  then  remained  silent. 

"  I  am  glad  you  can  say  so  much,"  replied  his  friend  ; 
**for  I  was  not  jesting  when  I  said  I  would  rather  that  you 
were  at  variance  with  me  than  that  you  laid  the  whole  blame 
on  yourself.  It  would  be  courteous,  I  think,  to  set  this 
minstrel  instantly  at  liberty.  Meantime,  for  his  lady's  sake, 
I  will  entreat  him,  in  all  honor,  to  be  our  guest  till  the 
Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely  shall  do  us  the  same  honor,  and 
to  assist  us  in  our  search  after  her  place  of  retirement. 
Good  minstrel,"  he  continued,  ''you  hear  what  I  say,  and 
you  will  not,  I  suppose,  be  surprised  that,  in  all  honor  and 
kind  usage,  you  find  yourself  detained  for  a  short  space  in 
this  Castle  of  Douglas  ?  " 

"You  seem,  sir  knight,"  replied  the  minstrel,  "not  so 
much  to  keep  your  eye  upon  the  right  of  doing  what  you 
should  as  to  possess  the  might  of  doing  what  you  would. 
I  must  necessarily  be  guided  by  your  advice,  since  you  have 
the  power  to  make  it  a  command." 

"  And  I  trust,"  continued  De  Valence,  "  that,  when  your 
mistress  and  you  again  meet,  we  shall  have  the  benefit  of 
your  intercession  for  anything  which  we  may  have  done  to 
displeasure  her,  considering  that  the  purpose  of  our  action 
was  exactly  the  reverse." 

"  Let  me,"  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  "  say  a  single  word. 
I  will  offer  thee  a  chain  of  gold,  heavy  enough  to  bear  down 


i56  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

the  weight  of  ».nese  shackles,  as  a  sign  of  regret  for  having 
condemned  thee  to  suffer  so  many  indignities." 

''Enough  said,  Sir  John,"  said  De  Valence;  "let  us 
promise  no  more  till  this  good  minstrel  shall  see  some  sign  of 
performance.  Follow  me  this  way,  and  I  will  tell  thee  in 
private  of  other  tidings,  which  it  is  important  that  you 
should  know." 

So  saying,  he  withdrew  De  Walton  from  the  dungeon,  and 
sending  for  the  old  knight,  Sir  Philip  de  Montentn",  already 
mentioned,  who  acted  as  seneschal  of  the  castle,"^  he  com- 
manded that  the  minstrel  should  be  enlarged  from  the  dun- 
geon, well  looked  to  in  other  respects,  yet  prohibited,  tlioiigh 
with  every  mark  of  civility,  from  leaving  the  castle  without 
a  trusty  attendant. 

"  And  now.  Sir  John  de  Walton,"  he  said,  "  methinksyou 
are  a  little  churlish  in  not  ordering  me  some  breakfast,  after 
I  have  been  all  night  engaged  in  your  affairs  ;  and  a  cup  of 
muscadel  would,  I  think,  be  no  bad  induction  to  a  full  con- 
sideration of  this  perplexed  matter." 

*'  Thou  knowest,"  answered  De  Walton,  *'  that  thou  mayst 
call  for  what  thou  wilt,  provided  always  thou  tellest  me, 
without  loss  of  time,  what  else  thou  knowest  respecting  the 
will  of  the  lady  against  whom  we  have  all  sinned  so  grievously, 
and  I,  alas  !  beyond  hope  of  forgiveness." 

*'  Trust  me,  I  hope,"  said  the  knight  of  Valence,  "  the 
good  lady  bears  me  no  malice,  as  indeed  she  has  expressly 
renounced  any  ilhwill  against  me.  The  words  you  see,  are 
so  plain,  as  yon  yourself  may  read — '  The  lady  pardons  poor 
Aymer  de  Valence,  and  willingly,  for  having  been  involved 
in  a  mistake  to  which  she  herself  led  the  way  ;  she  herself 
will  at  all  times  be  happy  to  meet  with  him  as  an  acquaint- 
ance, and  never  to  think  farther  of  these  few  days'  history, 
except  as  matter  of  mirth  and  ridicule.*  So  it  is  expressly 
written  and  set  down." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Sir  John  de  AYalton,  "  but  see  you  not  that 
her  offending  lover  is  expressly  excluded  from  tlie  amnestv 
granted  to  the  lesser  offender  ?  Mark  you  not  the  conclud- 
ing paragraph  ?"  He  took  the  scroll  with  a  trembling  hand, 
and  read  with  a  discomposed  voice  its  closing  words.  "  It 
is  even  so  :  'All  former  connection  must  henceforth  be  at  an 
end  between  him  and  the  supposed  Augustine.'  Explain  to 
me  how  the  reading  of  these  words  is  reconcilable  to  any- 
thing but  their  plain  sense  of  condemnation  and  forfeiture 
of  contract,  implying  destruction  of  the  hopes  of  Sir  John 
de  Walton?" 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  457 

"  You  are  somewhat  an  older  man  than  I,  sir  knight," 
answered  De  Valence,  "and,  I  will  grant,  by  far  the  wiser 
and  more  experienced  ;  yet  I  will  uphold  that  there  is  no 
adopting  the  interpretation  which  you  seem  to  have  affixed 
in  your  mind  to  this  letter,  without  supposing  the  preliminary 
that  the  fair  writer  was  distracted  in  her  understanding — • 
nay,  never  start,  look  wildl}',  or  lay  your  hand  on  your  sword, 
I  do  not  affirm  this  is  the  case.  I  say  again,  that  no  woman 
in  her  senses  would  have  pardoned  a  common  acquaintance 
for  his  behaving  to  her  with  uninteufcional  disrespect  and 
unkindness  during  the  currency  of  a  certain  masquerade, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  sternly  and  irrevocably  broken  oft'  with 
the  lover  to  whom  her  troth  was  plighted,  although  his  error 
in  joining  in  the  offense  was  neither  grosser  nor  more  pro- 
tracted than  that  of  the  person  indifferent  to  her  love." 

"  Do  not  blaspheme,"  said  Sir  John  de  Walton  ;  "  and 
forgive  me  if,  in  Justice  to  truth  and  to  the  angel  whom  I 
fear  I  have  forfeited  forever,  I  point  out  to  you  the  differ- 
ence which  a  maiden  of  dignity  and  of  feeling  must  make 
between  an  offense  towards  her  committed  by  an  ordinary 
acquaintance  and  one  of  precisely  the  same  kind  offered  by 
a  person  who  is  bound  by  the  most  undeserved  preference, 
by  the  most  generous  benefits,  and  by  everything  which  can 
bind  human  feeling,  to  think  and  reflect  ere  he  becomes  an 
actor  in  any  case  in  which  it  is  possible  for  her  to  be  con- 
cerned." 

"  Now,  by  mine  honor,"  said  Aymer  de  Valence,  "  I  am 
glad  to  hear  thee  make  some  attempt  at  reason,  although  it 
is  but  an  unreasonable  kind  of  reason  too,  since  its  object  is 
to  destroy  thine  own  hopes,  and  argue  away  thine  own  chance 
of  happiness  ;  but  if  I  have,  in  the  progress  of  this  affair, 
borne  me  sometimes  towards  thee  as  to  give  not  only  the 
governor,  but  even  the  friend,  some  cause  of  displeasure,  I 
will  make  it  up  to  thee  now,  John  de  Walton,  by  trying  to 
convince  thee  in  spite  of  thine  own  perverse  logic.  But 
here  comes  the  muscadel  and  the  breakfast ;  wilt  thou  take 
some  refreshment — or  shall  we  go  on  without  the  spirit  of 
muscadel  ?" 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,"  replied  De  Walton,  "  do  as  thou 
wilt,  so  thou  make  me  clear  of  thy  well-intended  babble." 

"  Nay,  thou  shalt  not  brawl  me  out  of  my  powers  of  argu- 
ment," said  De  Valence,  laughing,  and  helping  himself  to 
a  brimming  cup  of  wine  ;  "  if  thou  acknowledgest  thyself 
conquered,  I  am  contented  to  give  the  victory  to  the  in* 
spiring  strength  of  the  jovial  liquor." 


tSS  iVA  VIABLE V  NO  VEL S 

"  Do  as  thou  listest,"  said  De  Walton,  "  but  make  an  end 
of  an  argument  which  thou  canst  not  comprehend." 

"  I  deny  the  charge,"  answered  the  younger  knight, 
wiping  his  lips,  after  having  finished  his  draught  ;  "  and 
listen,  Walton  the  Warlike,  to  a  chapter  in  the  history  of 
women,  in  which  thou  art  more  unskilled  than  I  would 
wish  thee  to  be.  Thou  canst  not  deny  that,  be  it  right  or 
wrong,  thy  Lady  Augusta  hath  ventured  more  forward  with 
you  than  is  usual  upon  the  sea  of  affection  :  she  boldly  made 
thee  her  choice,  while  thou  wert  as  yet  known  to  her  only 
as  a  flower  of  English  chivalry.  Faith,  and  I  respect  her  for 
her  frankness  ;  but  it  was  a  choice  which  the  more  cold  of 
her  own  sex  might  perhaps  claim  occasion  to  term  rash  and 
precipitate.  Nay,  be  not,  I  jDray  thee,  offended — I  am  far 
from  thinking  or  saying  so  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  will  uphold 
with  my  lance  her  selection  of  John  de  Walton  against  the 
minions  of  a  court  to  be  a  wise  and  generous  choice,  and  her 
own  behavior  as  alike  candid  and  noble.  But  she  herself 
is  not  unlikely  to  dread  unjust  misconstruction — a  fear  of 
which  may  not  improbably  induce  her,  upon  any  occasion,  to 
seize  some  opportunity  of  showing  an  unwonted  and  unusual 
rigor  towards  her  lover,  in  order  to  balance  her  having  ex- 
tended towards  him  in  the  beginning  of  their  intercourse, 
somewhat  of  an  unusual  degree  of  frank  encouragement. 
Nay,  it  might  be  easy  for  her  lover  so  far  to  take  part  against 
himself,  by  arguing  as  thou  dost  when  out  of  thy  senses, 
as  to  make  it  difficult  for  her  to  withdraw  from  an  argument 
which  he  himself  was  foolish  enough  to  strengthen  ;  and 
thus,  like  a  maiden  too  soon  taken  at  her  first  nay-say,  she 
shall  perhaps  be  allowed  no  opportunity  of  bearing  herself 
according  to  her  real  feelings,  or  retracting  a  sentence  issued 
with  consent  of  the  party  whose  hopes  it  destroys." 

"  I  have  heard  thee,  De  Valence,"  answered  the  governor 
of  Douglas  Dale  ;  "  nor  is  it  difficult  for  me  to  admit  that 
these  thy  lessons  may  serve  as  a  chart  to  many  a  female 
heart,  but  not  to  that  of  Augusta  de  Berkely.  By  my  life, 
I  say  I  would  much  sooner  be  deprived  of  the  merit  of  those 
few  deeds  of  chivalry  which  thou  sayest  have  procui-ed  for  me 
such  enviable  distinction  than  I  would  act  upon  them  with 
the  insolence,  as  if  I  said  that  my  place  in  the  lady's  bosom 
was  too  firmly  fixed  to  be  shaken  even  by  the  success  of  a 
worthier  man,  or  by  my  own  gross  failure  in  respect  to  the 
object  of  my  attachment.  No,  herself  alone  shall  have 
power  to  persuade  me  that  even  goodness  equal  to  that  of  an 
interceding  saint  will  restore  me  to  the  place  in  her  affec- 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  459 

tions  whioli  I  have  most  uinvortliily  forfeited  by  a  stupidity 
only  to  be  compared  to  that  of  brutes." 

"  If  you  are  so  minded,"  said  Aymer  cle  Valence,  "  I  have 
only  one  word  more — forgive  me  if  I  speak  it  peremptorily — 
the  lady,  as  you  say,  and  say  truly,  must  be  the  final  arbitress 
in  this  question.  My  arguments  do  not  extend  to  insisting 
that  you  should  claim  her  hand  whether  she  herself  will  or 
no ;  but  to  learn  her  determination,  it  is  necessary  that  you 
should  find  out  where  she  is,  of  which  I  am  unfortunately 
not  able  to  inform  you." 

"  How  !  what  mean  you  ?  "  exclaimed  the  governor,  who 
now  only  began  to  comprehend  the  extent  of  his  misfortune. 
"  Whither  hath  she  fled,  or  with  whom  ?" 

"  She  is  fled,  for  what  I  know,"  said  De  Valence,  *'  in 
search  of  a  more  enterprising  lover  than  one  who  is  80  willing 
to  interpret  every  air  of  frost  as  a  killing  blight  to  his  hopes  ; 
perhaps  she  seeks  the  Black  Douglas,  or  some  such  hero  of 
the  thistle,  to  reward  with  her  lands,  her  lordships,  and 
beauty  those  virtues  of  enterprise  and  courage  of  which 
John  de  Walton  was  at  one  time  thought  possessed.  But, 
seriously,  events  are  passing  around  us  of  strange  import. 
I  saw  enough  last  night,  on  my  way  to  iSt.  Bride's,  to  make 
me  suspicious  of  every  one.  I  sent  to  you  as  a  prisoner 
the  old  sexton  of  the  church  of  Douglas.  I  found  him 
contumacious  as  to  some  inquiries  which  I  thought  it 
proper  to  prosecute  ;  but  of  this  more  at  another  time. 
The  escape  of  this  lady  adds  greatly  to  the  diflficulties 
which  encircle  this  devoted  castle." 

"  Aymer  de  Valence,"  replied  De  Walton,  in  a  solemn 
and  animated  tone,  "  Douglas  Castle  shall  be  defended,  as 
we  have  hitherto  been  able,  with  the  aid  of  Heaven,  to 
Bpread  from  its  battlements  the  broad  banner  of  St.  George. 
Come  of  me  what  list  during  my  life,  I  will  die  the  faithful 
lover  of  Augusta  de  Berkely,  even  although  I  no  longer 
live  as  her  chosen  knight.  There  are  cloisters  and  hermit- 
ages— " 

"  Ay,  marry  are  there,"  replied  Sir  Aymer,  "  and  girdles 
of  hemp,  moreover,  and  beads  of  oak  ;  but  all  these  we  omit 
in  our  reckonings  till  we  discover  whei-e  the  Lady  Augusta 
is,  and  what  she  purposes  to  do  in  this  matter." 

"You  say  well,"  replied  De  Walton  ;  '*let  us  hold  coun- 
sel together  by  what  means  we  shall,  if  possible,  discover 
the  lady's  too  hasty  retreat,  by  which  she  has  done  me  great 
wrong — I  mean,  if  she  supposed  her  commands  would  not 
have  been  fully  obeyed,  had  she  honored  with  them  the 


460  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

governor  of  Douglas  Dale,  or  any  who  are  under  his  com. 
mand." 

"Now/'  replied  De  Valence,  "you  again  speak  like  a 
true  son  of  chivalry.  With  your  permission,  I  would  sum- 
mon this  minstrel  to  our  presence.  His  fidelity  to  his  mis- 
tress has  been  remarkable  ;  and,  as  matters  stand  now,  we 
must  take  instant  measures  for  tracing  the  place  of  hei 
retreat." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  way  is  long,  my  children — long  and  rough, 
The  moors  are  dreary,  and  the  woods  are  dark ; 
But  he  that  creeps  from  cradle  on  to  grave, 
Unskilled  save  in  the  velvet  course  of  fortune, 
Hath  missed  the  discipline  of  noble  hearts. 

Old  Play. 

H  was  yet  early  in  the  day  when,  after  the  governor  and  De 
Valence  had  again  summoned  Bertram  to  their  councils,  the 
garrison  of  Douglas  was  mustered,  and  a  number  of  small 
parties,  in  addition  to  those  already  despatched  by  De  Val- 
ence from  Hazelside,  were  sent  out  to  scour  the  woods  in 
pursuit  of  the  fugitives,  with  strict  injunctions  to  treat  them, 
if  overtaken,  with  the  utmost  respect,  and  to  obey  their 
commands,  keeping  an  eye,  however,  on  the  place  where 
they  might  take  refuge.  To  facilitate  tliis  result,  some  who 
were  men  of  discretion  were  entrusted  with  the  secret  who 
the  supposed  pilgrim  and  the  fugitive  nun  really  were.  The 
whole  ground,  whether  forest  or  moorland,  within  many 
miles  of  Douglas  Castle  was  covered  and  traversed  by  parties, 
whose  anxiety  to  detect  the  fugitives  was  equal  to  the  re- 
ward for  their  safe  recovery  liberally  offered  by  De  Walton 
and  De  Valence.  They  spared  not,  meantime,  to  make  such 
inquiries  in  all  directions  as  might  bring  to  light  any  machi- 
nations of  the  Scottish  insurgents  which  might  be  on  foot 
in  those  wild  districts,  of  which,  as  we  have  said  before,  De 
Valence,  in  particular,  entertained  strong  suspicions.  Their 
instructions  were,  in  case  of  finding  such,  to  proceed  against 
the  persons  engaged,  by  arrest  and  otherwise,  in  the  most 
rigorous  manner,  such  as  had  been  commanded  by  De  Wal- 
ton himself  at  the  time  when  the  Black  Douglas  and  his  ac- 
complices had  been  the  principal  objects  of  his  wakeful  sus- 
picions. These  various  detachments  had  greatly  reduced  the 
strength  of  the  garrison  ;  yet,  although  numerous,  alert,  and 
despatched  in  every  direction,  they  had  not  the  fortune 
either  to  fall  on  the  trace  of  the  Lady  of  Berkely  or  to  en- 
encounter  any  party  whatever  of  the  insurgent  Scottish. 

Meanwhile  our  fugitives  had,  as  we  have  seen,  set  out 
from  the  convent  of  St.  Bride  under  the  guidance  of  a  oav- 
461 


462  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

alier,  of  whom  the  Lady  Augusta  knew  nothing  save  that 
he  was  to  guide  their  steps  in  a  direction  where  they  would 
not  be  exposed  to  the  risk  of  being  overtaken.  At  length 
Margaret  de  Hautlieu  herself  spoke  upon  the  subject. 

"  You  have  made  no  inquiry/'  she  said,  "  Lady  Augusta, 
whither  you  are  traveling,  or  under  whose  charge,  although 
methinks  it  should  much  concern  you  to  know." 

"  Is  it  not  enough  for  me  to  be  aware,"  answered  Lady 
Augusta,  ''that  I  am  traveling,  kind  sister,  under  the  pro- 
tection of  one  to  whom  you  yourself  trust  as  to  a  friend  ; 
and  why  need  I  be  anxious  for  any  farther  assurance  of  mv 
safety?''  ^ 

"  Simply,"  said  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  "  because  the  per- 
sons with  whom,  from  national  as  well  as  personal  circum- 
stances, I  stand  connected  are  perhaps  not  exactly  the  pro- 
tectors to  whom  you,  lady,  can  with  such  perfect  safety  en- 
trust yourself." 

"  In  what  sense,"  said  the  Lady  Augusta,  "do  you  use 
these  words  ?" 

"  Because,"  replied  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  "  the  Bruce, 
the  Douglas,  Malcolm  Fleming,  and  others  of  that  party, 
although  .they  are  incapable  of  abusing  such  an  advantage 
to  any  dishonorable  purpose,  might  nevertheless,  under  a 
strong  temptation,  consider  you  as  an  hostage  thrown  into 
their  hands  by  Providence,  through  whom  they  might  med- 
itate the  possibility  of  gaining  some  benefit  to  their  dispersed 
and  dispirited  party." 

"They  might  make  me,"  answered  the  Lady  Augusta, 
**the  subject  of  such  a  treaty  when  I  Avas  dead,  but,  believe 
me,  never  while  I  drew  vital  breath.  Believe  me  also  that, 
with  whatever  pain,  shame,  or  agony  I  would  again  deliver 
myself  up  to  the  power  of  De  Walton — yes,  I  would  rather 
put  myself  in  his  hands.  What  do  I  say  ?  His  !  I  would 
rather  surrender  myself  to  the  meanest  archer  of  my  native 
country  than  combine  with  its  foes  to  work  mischief  to 
Merry  England — my  own  England — that  country  which  is 
the  envy  of  every  other  country,  and  the  pride  of  all  who 
can  term  themselves  her  natives  !  " 

"  I  thought  that  your  choice  might  prove  so,"  said  Lady 
Margaret ;  "  and  since  you  have  honored  me  with  your 
confidence,  gladly  would  I  provide  for  your  liberty  by  plac- 
ing you  as  nearly  in  the  situation  which  you  yourself  desire 
as  my  poor  means  have  the  power  of  accomplishing.  In 
half  an  hour  we  shall  be  in  danger  of  being  taken  by  the 
English  parties,  which  will  be  instantly  dispersed  in  every 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  463 

direction  in  quest  of  us.  Now  take  notice,  lady,  I  know  a 
place  in  which  I  can  take  refuge  with  my  friends  and 
countrymen,  those  gallant  Scots,  who  have  never  even  in 
this  dishonored  age  bent  the  knee  to  Baal.  For  their  honor 
— their  nicety  of  honor,  I  could  in  other  days  have  answered 
with  my  own  ;  but  of  late,  I  am  bound  to  tell  you,  they  have 
been  put  to  those  trials  by  which  the  most  generous  affec- 
tions may  be  soured,  and  driven  to  a  species  of  frenzy  the 
more  wild  that  it  is  founded  originally  on  the  noblest  feel- 
ings. A  person  wlio  feels  himself  deprived  of  his  natural 
birthright,  denounced,  exposed  to  confiscation  and  death, 
because  he  avouches  the  riglits  of  his  king,  the  cause  of  his 
country,  ceases  on  his  part  to  be  nice  or  precise  in  estimat- 
ittg  the  degree  of  retaliation  which  it  is  lawful  for  him  to 
exercise  in  the  requital  of  such  injuries  ;  and,  believe  me, 
bitterly  should  I  lament  having  guided  you  into  a  situation 
which  you  might  consider  afflicting  or  degrading." 

"  In  a  word,  then,"  said  the  English  lady,  "  what  is  it  you 
apprehend  I  am  like  to  suffer  at  the  hands  of  your  friends, 
whom  I  must  be  excused  for  terming  rebels  ?  " 

"  If,"  said  the  Sister  Ursula,  "  your  friends,  whom  I 
should  term  oppressors  and  tyrants,  take  our  land  and  our 
lives,  seize  our  castles  and  confiscate  our  property,  you  must 
confess  that  the  rough  laws  of  war  indulge  mine  with  the 
privilege  of  retaliation.  There  can  be  no  fear  that  such 
men,  under  any  circumstances,  would  ever  exercise  cruelty 
or  insult  upon  a  lady  of  your  rank  ;  but  it  is  another  thing 
to  calculate  that  they  will  abstain  from  such  means  of  ex- 
torting advantage  from  your  captivity  as  are  common  in  war- 
fare. You  would  not,  1  think,  wish  to  be  delivered  up  to 
the  English,  on  consideration  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  sur- 
rendering the  Castle  of  Douglas  to  its  natural  lord  ;  yet, 
were  you  in  the  hands  of  the  Bruce  or  Douglas,  although  I 
I  can  answer  for  your  being  treated  with  all  the  respect 
which  they  have  the  means  of  showing,  yet  I  own  their  put- 
ting you  at  such  a  ransom  might  be  by  no  means  unlikely." 

"  I  would  sooner  die,"  said  the  Lady  Berkely,  "  than  have 
my  name  mixed  up  in  a  treaty  so  disgraceful ;  and  De  Wal- 
ton's reply  to  it  would,  I  am  certain,  be  to  strike  the  head 
from  the  messenger,  and  throw  it  from  the  highest  tower  of 
Douglas  Castle." 

"Where,  then,  lady,  would  you  now  go,"  said  Sister 
Ursula,  "were  the  choice  in  your  power  ?" 

"  To  my  own  castle,"  answered  Lady  Augusta,  "  where,  if 
•necessary,  I  could  be  defended  even  against  the  King  him- 


M4  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

self,  until  I  could  place  at  least  my  person  under  the  pra 
tection  of  the  church." 

"  In  that  case," replied  Margaret de  Hautlieu,  ''my  power 
of  rendering  you  assistance  is  only  precarious,  yet  it  com- 
prehends a  choice  \A'hich  I  will  -willingly  submit  to  your  de- 
cision, notwithstanding  I  thereby  subject  the  secrets  of  my 
friends  to  some  risk  of  being  discovered  and  frustrated. 
But  the  confidence  which  you  have  placed  in  me  imposes  on 
me  the  necessity  of  committing  to  you  a  like  trust.  It  rests 
with  you  whether  you  will  proceed  with  me  to  the  secret 
rendezvous  of  the  Douglas  and  his  friends,  which  I  may  be 
blamed  for  making  known,  and  there  take  your  chance  of 
the  reception  which  you  may  encounter,  since  I  cannot 
warrant  you  of  anything  save  honorable  treatment,  so  far  as 
your  person  is  concerned  ;  or,  if  you  should  think  this  too 
hazardous,  make  the  best  of  your  way  at  once  for  the  Border, 
in  which  last  case  I  will  proceed  as  far  as  I  can  with  you 
towards  the  English  line,  and  then  leave  you  to  pursue  your 
journey,  and  to  obtain  a  guard  and  a  conductor  among  your 
own  countrymen.  Meantime,  it  will  be  well  for  me  if  I 
escape  being  taken,  since  the  abbot  would  not  shrink  at  in- 
flicting upon  me  the  death  due  to  an  apostate  nun." 

"■  Such  cruelty,  my  sister,  could  hardly  be  inflicted  upon 
one  who  had  never  taken  the  religious  vows,  and  who  still, 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  church,  had  a  right  to  make  a 
choice  between  the  world  and  the  veil." 

"  Such  choice  as  they  gave  their  gallant  victims,"  said 
Lady  Margaret,  "  who  have  fallen  into  English  hands  during 
these  merciless  wars — such  choice  as  they  gave  to  Wallace, 
the  Champion  of  Scotland  ;  such  as  they  gave  to  Hay,  the 
gentle  and  the  free  ;  to  Sommerville,  the  flower  of  chivalry  ; 
and  to  Athol,  the  blood  relation  of  King  Edward  himself — 
all  of  whom  were  as  much  traitors,  under  which  name  they 
were  executed,  as  Margaret  de  Hautlieu  is  an  apostate  nun, 
and  subject  to  the  rule  of  the  cloister." 

She  spoke  with  some  eagerness,  for  she  felt  as  if  the  Eng- 
lish lady  imputed  to  her  more  coldness  than  she  was,  in  such 
doubtful  circumstances,  conscious  of  manifesting. 

"  And  after  all,"  she  proceeded,  "  you.  Lady  Augusta  de 
Berkely,  what  do  you  venture,  if  you  run  the  risk  of  falling 
into  the  hands  of  your  lover  ?  What  dreadful  risk  do  you 
incur  ?  You  need  not,  methinks,  fear  being  immured  be- 
tween four  walls,  with  a  basket  of  bread  and  a  cruise  of  water, 
which,  were  I  seized,  would  be  the  only  support  allowed  to 
me  for  the  short  space  that  my  life  would  be  prolonged. 


CASTLE  DANGEEOUS  463 

Nay,  even  were  yon  to  be  betrayed  to  the  rebel  Scots,  as  you 
call  them,  a  captivity  among  the  hills,  s\Teeteued  by  the  hope 
of  deliverance,  and  rendered  tolerable  by  all  the  allevia- 
tions which  the  circumstances  of  your  captors  allowed  them 
the  means  of  supplying,  were  not,  I  think,  a  lot  so  very  hard 
to  endure." 

"  Nevertheless,"  answered  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  "fright- 
ful enough  it  must  have  appeared  to  me,  since,  to  fly  from 
such,  I  threw  myself  upon  your  guidance." 

"And  whatever  you  think  or  suspect,"  answered  the 
novice,  "I  am  as  true  to  you  as  ever  was  one  maiden  to 
another  and  as  sure  as  ever  Sister  Ursula  was  true  to  her 
vows,  although  they  were  never  comjoleted,  so  will  I  be  faith- 
ful to  your  secret,  even  at  the  risk  of  betraying  my  own. 
Hearken,  lady  ! "  she  said,  suddenly  pausing,  "  do  you  hear 
that?" 

The  sound  to  which  she  alluded  was  the  same  imitation  of 
the  cry  of  an  owlet  which  the  lady  had  before  heaid  under 
the  wails  of  the  convent. 

"  These  sounds,"  said  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  "  announce 
that  one  is  near  more  able  than  I  am  to  direct  us  in  this 
matter.  I  must  go  forward  and  speak  with  him  ;  and  this 
man,  our  guide,  will  remain  by  you  for  a  little  space  ;  nor, 
when  he  quits  your  bridle,  need  you  wait  for  any  other 
signal,  but  ride  forward  on  the  woodland  path,  and  obey  the 
advice  and  directions  which  will  be  given  you."    ■ 

"  Stay — stay,  Sister  Ursula  !  "  cried  the  Lady  de  Berkely 
— "  abandon  me  not  in  this  moment  of  uncertainty  and 
distress  ! " 

"It  must  be,  for  the  sake  of  both,"  returned  Margaret  de 
Hautlieu.  *'  I  also  am  in  uncertainty,  I  also  am  in  distress, 
and  patience  and  obedience  are  the  only  virtues  which  can 
save  us  both." 

So  saying,  she  struck  her  horse  with  the  riding-rod,  and 
moving  briskly  forward,  disappeared  among  the  boughs  of  a 
tangled  thicket.  The  Lady  of  Berkely  would  have  followed 
her  companion,  but  the  cavalier  who  attended  them  laid  a 
strong  hand  upon  the  bridle  of  her  palfrey,  with  a  look  which 
implied  that  he  would  not  permit  her  to  proceed  in  that  direc- 
tion. Terrified,  therefore,  though  she  could  not  exactly  state 
a  reason  wliy,  the  Lady  of  Berkely  remained  with  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  thicket,  instinctively,  as  it  were,  expecting  to 
see  a  band  of  English  archers,  or  rugged  Scottish  insurgents, 
issue  from  its  tangled  skirts,  and  doubtful  which  she  should 
have  most  considered  as  the  objects  of  her  terror.  In  the 
30 


466  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

distress  of  her  uncertainty,  she  again  attempted  to  move 
forward,  but  the  stern  check  wliich  lier  attendant  again  be- 
stowed upon  her  bridle  proved  sufficiently  that,  in  restrain- 
her  wishes,  the  stranger  was  not  likely  to  spare  the  strength 
which  he  certainly  possessed.  At  length,  after  some  ten 
minutes  had  elapsed,  the  cavalier  withdrew  his  hand  from 
her  bridle,  and  pointing  with  his  lance  towards  the  thicket, 
through  which  there  winded  a  narrow,  scarce  visible  path, 
seemed  to  intimate  to  the  lady  that  her  road  lay  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  that  he  would  no  longer  prevent  her  following  it. 

"^  Do  you  not  go  with  me?"  said  the  lady,  who,  having 
been  accustomed  to  this  man's  company  since  they  left  the 
convent,  had  by  degrees  come  to  look  upon  him  as  a  sort  of 
protector.  He,  however,  gravely  shook  his  head,  as  if  to  ex- 
cuse complying  with  a  request  which  it  was  not  in  his  power  to 
grant  ;  and,  turning  his  steed  in  a  different  direction,  retired 
at  a  pace  which  soon  carried  him  from  her  sight.  She  had 
then  no  alternative  but  to  take  the  path  of  the  thicket  which 
had  been  followed  by  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  nor  did  she  pur- 
sue it  long  before  coming  in  sight  of  a  singular  spectacle. 

The  trees  grew  wider  as  the  lady  advanced,  and  when  she 
entered  the  thicket  she  perceived  that,  though  hedged  in  as 
it  were  by  an  enclosure  of  copsewood,  it  was  in  the  interior 
altogether  occupied  by  a  few  of  the  magnificent  trees,  such 
as  seemed  to  have  been  the  ancestors  of  the  forest,  and  which, 
though  few  in  number,  were  sufficient  to  overshade  all  the 
unoccupied  ground  by  the  great  extent  of  their  complicated 
branches.  Beneath  one  of  these  lay  stretched  something  of 
a  gray  color,  which,  as  it  drew  itself  together,  exhibited  the 
figure  of  a  man  sheathed  in  armor,  but  strangely  accoutered, 
and  in  a  manner  so  bizarre  as  to  indicate  some  of  the  wild 
fancies  peculiar  to  the  knights  of  that  period.  His  armor 
was  ingeniously  painted  so  as  to  represent  a  skeleton,  the  ribs 
being  constituted  by  the  corslet  and  its  back-piece.  The 
shield  represented  an  owl  with  its  wings  spread,  a  device 
which  was  repeated  upon  the  helmet,  which  appeared  to  be 
completely  covered  by  an  image  of  the  same  bird  of  ill  omen. 
But  that  which  was  particularly  calculated  to  excite  surprise 
in  the  spectator  was  the  great  height  and  thinness  of  the 
figure,  which,  as  it  arose  from  the  ground  and  placed  itself 
in  an  erect  posture,  seemed  rather  to  resemble  an  apparition 
in  the  act  of  extricating  itself  from  the  grave  than  that  of  an 
ordinary  man  rising  upon  his  feet.  The  horse,  too,  upon 
which  the  lady  rode  started  back  and  snorted,  either  at  the 
gudden  change  of  posture  of  this  ghastly  specimen  of  chivalry. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  467 

or  disagreeably  affected  by  some  odor  which  accompanied  his 
presence.  The  lady  herself  manifested  some  alarm,  for  al- 
thongh  she  did  not  utterly  believe  she  was  in  the  presence  of 
a  supernatural  being,  yet,  among  all  the  strange  half-frantic 
disguises  of  chivalry,  this  was  assuredly  the  most  uncouth 
which  she  had  ever  seen  ;  and  considering  how  often  the 
knights  of  the  period  pushed  their  dreamy  fancies  to  the 
borders  of  insanity,  it  seemed  at  best  no  very  safe  venture  to 
meet  one  accoutered  in  the  emblems  of  the  King  of  Terrors 
himself,  alone,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  forest._  Be  the 
knight's  character  and  purposes  what  they  might,  she 
resolved,  however,  to  accost  him  in  the  language  and  manner 
observed  in  romances  upon  such  occasions,  in  the  hope  even 
that  if  he  were  a  madman  he  might  prove  a  peaceable  one, 
and  accessible  to  "civility. 

"  Sir  knight,"  she  said,  in  as  firm  a  tone  as  she  could  as- 
sume, "  right  sorry  am  I  if,  by  my  hasty  approach,  I  have 
disturbed  your  solitary  meditations.  My  horse,  sensible,  I 
think,  of  the  presence  of  yours,  brought  me  hither,  without 
my  being  aware  whom  or  what  I  was  to  encounter.'" 

''  I  am  one,"  answered  the  stranger,  in  a  solemn  tone, 
"  whom  few  men  seek  to  meet,  till  the  time  comes  that  they 
can  avoid  me  no  longer." 

''You  speak,  sir  knight,"  replied  the  Lady  de  Berkely, 
"  according  to  the  dismal  character  of  which  it  has  pleased 
you  to  assume  the  distinction.  May  I  appeal  to  one  whose 
exterior  is  so  formidable,  for  the  purpose  of  requesting  some 
directions  to  guide  me  through  this  wild  wood ;  as,  for  in- 
stance, what  is  the  name  of  the  nearest  castle,  town,  or  hos- 
telry, and  by  what  course  I  am  best  likely  to  reach  such  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  singular  audacity,"  answered  the  Knight  of  the 
Tomb,  "  that  would  enter  into  conversation  with  him  who  is 
termed  the  Inexorable,  the  Unsparing,  and  the  Pitiless,  whom 
even  the  most  miserable  forbears  to  call  to  his  assistance,  lest 
his  prayers  should  be  too  soon  answered." 

"  Sir  knight,"  replied  the  Lady  Augusta,  "the  character 
which  you  have  assumed,  unquestionably  for  good  reasons, 
dictates  to  you  a  peculiar  course  of  speech  ;  but  although 
your  part  is  a  sad  one,  it  does  not,  I  should  suppose,  render 
it  necessary  for  you  to  refuse  those  acts  of  civility  to  which 
you  must  have  bound  yourself  in  taking  the  high  vows  of 
chivalry." 

"  If  you  will  trust  to  my  guidance,"  replied  the  ghastly 
figure,  "  there  is  only  one  condition  upon  which  I  can  grant 
you  the  information  which  you  require ;  and  that  is,  that 


468  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

you  follow  my  footsteps  without  any  questions  asked  as  to 
the  tendency  of  our  journey." 

"I  suppose  I  must  submit  to  your  conditions/' she  an- 
swered, "  if  you  are  indeed  pleased  to  take  upon  yourself  the 
task  of  being  my  guide.  In  my  lieart  I  conceive  you  to  be 
one  of  the  unhappy  gentlemen  of  Scotland  who  are  now  in 
arms,  as  they  say,  for  the  defense  of  their  liberties.  A  rash 
undertaking  has  brought  me  within  the  sphere  of  your  influ- 
ence, and  now  the  only  favor  I  have  to  request  of  you,  against 
whom  I  never  did  nor  planned  any  evil,  is  the  guidance 
which  your  knowledge  of  the  country  permits  you  easily  to 
afford  me  in  my  way  to  the  frontiers  of  England.  Believe 
that  what  I  may  see  of  your  haunts  or  of  your  practises  shall 
be  to  me  things  invisible,  as  if  they  were  actually  concealed 
by  the  sepulcher  itself  of  the  king  of  which  it  has  pleased  you  to 
assume  the  attributes;  and  if  a  sum  of  money,  enough  to  be  the 
ransom  of  a  wealthy  earl,  will  purchase  such  a  favor  at  need, 
such  a  ransom  will  be  frankly  paid,  and  with  as  much  fidelity 
as  ever  it  was  rendered  by  a  prisoner  to  the  knight  by  whom 
he  was  taken.  Do  not  reject  me,  princely  Bruce — noble 
Douglas — if  indeed  it  is  to  either  of  these  that  I  address  my- 
self in  this  my  last  extremity  ;  men  speak  of  both  as  fearful 
enemies,  but  generous  knights  and  faithful  friends.  Let  me 
entreat  you  to  remember  how  much  you  would  wish  your  own 
friends  and  connections  to  meet  with  compassion  under  simi- 
lar circumstances  at  the  hands  of  the  knights  of  England." 

"And  have  they  done  so  ?"  replied  the  knight,  in  a  voice 
more  gloomy  than  before,  "  or  do  you  act  wisely,  while  im- 
ploring the  protection  of  one  whom  you  believe  to  be  a  true 
Scottish  knight,  for  no  other  reason  than  the  extreme  and 
extravagant  misery  of  his  appearance — is  it,  I  say,  well  or 
wise  to  remind  him  of  the  mode  in  which  the  lords  of  Eng- 
land have  treated  the  lovely  maidens  and  the  high-born 
dames  of  Scotland  ?  Have  not  their  prison-cages  been  sus- 
pended from  the  battlements  of  castles,  that  their  captivity 
might  be  kept  in  view  of  every  base  burgher  who  should 
desire  to  look  upon  the  miseries  of  the  noblest  peeresses,  yea, 
even  the  queen  of  Scotland  ?*  Is  this  a  recollection  which 
can  inspire  a  Scottish  knight  with  compassion  towards  an 
English  lady  ?  or  is  it  a  thought  which  can  do  aught  but 
swell  the  deeply  sworn  hatred  of  Edward  Tlantaganet,  the 
author  of  these  evils,  that  boils  in  every  drop  of  Scottish 
blood  which  still  feels  the  throb  of  life  ?  Xo  ;  it  is  all  you  can 
expect  if,  cold  and  pitiless  as  the  sepulcher  I  represent,  I 
*  See  Prison  Cages,  Note  9. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  469 

leave  you  unassisted  in  the  helpless  condition  in  which  you 
describe  yourself  to  be." 

"  You  will  not  be  so  inhuman,"  replied  the  lady  ;  "  in  do- 
ing so,  you  must  surrender  every  right  to  honest  fame  which 
you  have  won  either  by  sword  or  lance.  You  must  surrender 
every  pretense  to  that  justice  which  affects  the  merit  of 
supporting  the  weak  against  the  strong.  You  must  make  it 
your  principle  to  avenge  the  wrongs  and  tyranny  of  Edward 
Plantagenet  upon  the  dames  and  damosels  of  England  who 
have  neither  access  to  his  councils  nor  perhaps  give  him  their 
approbations  in  his  wars  against  Scotland." 

''It  would  not,  then,"  said  the  Knight  of  the  Sepulcher, 
'Mnduce  you  to  depart  from  your  request,  should  I  tell  you 
the  evils  to  which  you  would  subject  yourself  should  we  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  English  troops,  and  should  they  find 
you  under  such  ill-omened  protection  as  my  own  ?" 

"  Be  assured,"  said  the  lady,  "the  consideration  of  such 
an  event  does  not  in  the  least  shake  my  resolution  or  desire 
of  confiding  in  your  protection.  You  may  probably  know 
who  I  am,  and  may  judge  how  far  even  Edward  would  hold 
himself  entitled  to  extend  punishment  towards  me." 

"  How  am  I  to  know  you,"  replied  the  ghostly  cavalier, 
'' or  your  circumstances  ?  They  must  be  extraordinary  in- 
deed if  they  could  form  a  check,  either  of  justice  or  human- 
ity, upon  tlie  revengeful  feelings  of  Edward.  All  who  know 
him  are  well  assured  that  it  is  no  ordinary  motive  that  will 
induce  him  to  depart  from  the  indulgence  of  his  evil  temper. 
But  be  it  as  it  may,  you,  lady,  if  a  lady  you  be,  throw  your- 
self as  a  burden  upon  me,  and  I  must '  discharge  myself  of 
my  trust  as  I  best  may  ;  for  this  purpose  you  must  be  guided 
implicitly  by  my  directions,  which  will  be  given  after  the 
fashion  of  those"^  of  the  spiritual  world,  being  intimations, 
rather  than  detailed  instructions,  for  your  conduct,  and  ex- 
pressed rather  by  commands  than  by  any  reason  or  argument. 
In  this  way  it  is  possible  that  I  may  be  of  service  to  you  ;  in 
any  other  case,  it  is  most  likely  that  I  may  fail  you  at  need, 
and  melt  from  your  side  like  a  phantom  which  dreads  the 
approach  of  day." 

''You  cannot  be  so  cruel!"  answered  the  lady,  *'A 
gentleman,  a  knight,  and  a  nobleman — and  I  persuade  my- 
self I  speak  to  all— hath  duties  which  he  cannot  abandon," 

"  He  has,  I  grant  it,  and  they  are  most  sacred  to  me," 
answered  the  Spectral  Knight  f"  but  I  have  also  duties 
whose  obligations  are  doubly  binding,  and  to  which  I  must 
sacrifice  those  which  would  otherwise  lead  me  to  devotp  my- 


m  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL  S 

self  to  your  rescue.  The  only  question  is,  whether  you  feel 
inclined  to  accept  my  protection  on  the  limited  terms  on 
which  alone  I  can  extend  it,  or  whether  you  deem  it  better 
that  each  go  their  own  way,  and  limit  themselves  to  their 
own  resources,  and  trust  the  rest  to  Providence  ?  " 

"Alas  I"  replied  the  lady,  "beset  and  hard  pressed  as  I 
am,  to  ask  me  to  form  a  resolution  for  myself  is  like  calling 
on  a  wretch,  in  the  act  of  falling  from  a  precipice,  to  form 
a  calm  judgment  by  what  twig  he  may  best  gain  the  chance 
of  breaking  his  fall.  His  answer  must  necessarily  be,  that 
he  will  cling  to  that  which  he  can  easiest  lay  hold  of,  and 
trust  the  rest  to  Providence.  I  accept,  therefore,  your 
offer  of  protection,  in  the  modified  way  you  are  pleased  to 
limit  it,  and  I  put  my  faith  in  Heaven  and  in  you.  To  aid 
me  effectually,  however,  you  must  know  my  name  and  my 
circumstances." 

"All  these,"  answered  the  Knight  of  the  Sepulcher, 
"  have  already  been  told  me  by  your  late  companion;  for 
deem  not,  young  lady,  that  either  beauty,  rank,  extended 
domains,  unlimited  wealth,  or  the  highest  accomplishments 
can  weigh  anything  in  the  consideration  of  him  who  wears 
the  trappings  of  ihe  tomb,  and  whose  affections  and  desires 
are  long  buried  in  the  charnel-house." 

"  May  your  faith,"  said  the  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely, 
"  be  as  steady  as  your  words  appear  severe,  and  I  submit  to 
your  guidance  without  the  least  doubt  or  fear  that  it  will 
prove  otherwise  than  as  I  venture  to  hope.*' 


CHAPTEE  XV 

Like  the  dog  following  its  master,  when  engaged  in  train- 
ing him  to  the  sport  in  which  he  desires  he  should  excel, 
the  Lady  Augusta  felt  herself  occasionally  treated  with  a 
severity  calculated  to  impress  upon  her  the  most  implicit 
obedience  and  attention  to  the  Knight  of  the  Tomb,  in  whom 
she  had  speedily  persuaded  herself  she  saw  a  principal  man 
among  the  retainers  of  Douglas,  if  not  James  of  Douglas 
himself.  Still,  however,  the  ideas  which  the  lady  had 
formed  of  the  redoubted  Douglas  were  those  of  a  knight 
highly  accomplished  in  the  duties  of  chivalry,  devoted  in 
particular  to  the  service  of  the  fair  sex,  and  altogether  un- 
like the  personage  with  whom  she  found  herself  so  strangely 
united,  or  rather  for  the  present  enthralled  to.  Neverthe- 
less, when,  as  if  to  abridge  farther  communication,  he 
turned  short  into  one  of  the  mazes  of  the  wood,  and  seemed 
to  adopt  a  pace  which,  from  the  nature  of  the  ground, 
the  horse  on  which  the  Lady  Augusta  was  mounted 
had  difficulty  to  keep  up  with,  she  followed  him  with  the 
alarm  and  speed  of  the  young  spaniel,  which,  from  fear 
rather  than  fondness,  endeavors  to  keep  up  with  the  track 
of  its  severe  master.  The  simile,  it  is  true,  is  not  a  very 
polite  one,  nor  entirely  becoming  an  age  when  women  were 
worshiped  with  a  certain  degree  of  devotion  ;  but  such  cir- 
cumstances as  the  present  were  also  rare,  and  the  Lady 
Augusta  de  Berkely  could  not  but  persuade  herself  that  the 
terrible  Champion,  whose  name  had  been  so  long  the  theme 
of  her  anxiety,  and  the  terror  indeed  of  the  whole  country, 
might  be  able,  some  way  or  other,  to  accomplish  her  deliv- 
erance. She,  therefore,  exerted  herself  to  the  utmost  so  as 
to  keep  pace  with  the  phantom-like  apparition,  and  followed 
the  knight,  as  the  evening  shadow  keeps  watch  upon  the 
belated  rustic. 

•  As  the  lady  obviously  suffered  under  the  degree  of  exer- 
tion necessary  to  keep  her  palfrey  from  stumbling  in  these 
steep  and  broken  paths,  the  Knight  of  the  Tomb  slackened 
his  pace,  looked  anxiously  around  him,  and  muttered  ap- 
parently to  himself,  though  probably  intended  for  his  com- 
panion's ear,  **  There  is  no  occasion  for  so  much  haste.'' 
471 


472  WAVJi'BLET  NOVELS 

He  proceeded  at  a  slower  rate  until  they  seemed  to  be  on 
the  brink  of  a  ravine,  being  one  of  many  irregularities  on 
the  surface  of  the  ground,  effected  by  the  sudden  torrents 
peculiar  to  that  country,  and  which,  winding  among  the 
trees  and  copsewood,  formed,  as  it  were,  a  net  of  places  of 
concealment,  opening  into  each  other,  so  that  there  was  per- 
haps no  place  in  the  world  so  fit  for  the  purpose  of  ambus- 
cade. The  spot  where  the  Borderer  Turnbull  had  made  his 
escape  at  the  hunting-match  was  one  specimen  of  this  broken 
country,  and  perhaps  connected  itself  with  the  various 
thickets  and  passes  through  which  the  knight  and  pilgrim 
occasionally  seemed  to  take  their  way,  though  that  ravine 
was  at  a  considerable  distance  from  their  present  route. 

Meanwhile  the  knight  led  the  way,  as  if  rather  with  the 
purpose  of  bewildering  the  Lady  Augusta  amidst  these  in- 
terminable woods  than  following  any  exact  or  fixed  path. 
Here  they  ascended,  and  anon  appeared  to  descend  in  the 
same  direction,  finding  only  boundless  wildernesses  and 
varied  combinations  of  tangled  woodland  scenery.  Such 
part  of  the  country  as  seemed  arable  the  knight  appeared 
carefully  to  avoid  ;  yet  he  could  not  direct  his  course  with 
so  much  certainty  but  that  he  occasionally  crossed  the  path 
of  inhabitants  and  cultivators,  Avho  showed  a  consciousness 
of  so  singular  a  presence,  but  never,  as  the  lady  observed, 
evinced  any  symptom  of  recognition.  The  inference  was 
obvious,  that  the  Specter  Knight  was  known  in  the  country, 
and  that  he  possessed  adherents  or  accomplices  there,  who 
were  at  least  so  far  his  friends  as  to  avoid  giving  any  alarm, 
which  might  be  the  means  of  his  discovery.  The  well-imi- 
tated cry  of  the  night-owl,  too  frequent  a  guest  in  the  wilder- 
ness that  its  call  should  be  a  subject  of  surprise,  seemed  to 
be  a  signal  generally  understood  among  them  ;  for  it  w^as 
heard  in  different  parts  of  the  wood,  and  the  Lady  Augusta, 
experienced  in  such  journeys  by  her  former  travels  under 
the  guidance  of  the  minstrel  Bertram,  was  led  to  observe 
that,  on  hearing  such  wild  notes,  her  guide  changed  the  di- 
rection of  his  course,  and  betook  himself  to  paths  which  led 
through  deeper  wilds  and  more  impenetrable  thickets. 
This  happened  so  often,  that  a  new  alarm  came  upon  the 
unfortunate  pilgrim,  which  suggested  other  motives  of 
terror.  Was  she  not  the  confidante,  and  almost  the  tool,  of 
some  artful  design,  laid  with  a  view  to  an  extensive  opera- 
tion, which  was  destined  to  terminate,  as  the  efl"orts  of 
Douglas  had  before  done,  to  the  surprise  of  his  hereditary 
castle,  the  massacre  of  the  English  garrison,  and  finally  in 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  473 

the  dishonor  and  death  of  that  Sir  John  de  "Walton  upon 
whose  fate  she  had  long  believed,  or  taught  herself  to  believe, 
that  her  own  was  dependent  ? 

It  no  sooner  flashed  across  the  mind  of  the  Lady  Augusta 
that  she  was  engaged  in  some  such  conspiracy  with  a  Scot- 
tish insurgent  than  she  shuddered  at  the  consequences  of  the 
dark  transactions  in  which  she  had  now  become  involved, 
and  which  appeared  to  have  a  tendency  so  very  different  from 
what  she  had  at  first  apprehended. 

The  hours  of  the  morning  of  this  remarkable  day,  being 
that  of  Palm  Sunday,  were  thus  drawn  out  in  wandering 
from  place  to  place  ;  while  the  Lady  de  Berkely  occasionally 
interposed  by  petitions  for  liberty,  which  slie  endeavored  to 
express  in  the  most  moving  and  pathetic  manner,  and  by 
offers  of  wealth  and  treasures,  to  which  no  answer  whatever 
was  returned  by  her  strange  guide. 

At  length,  as  if  worn  out  by  his  captive's  importunity, 
the  knight,  coming  close  up  to  the  bridle-i-ein  of  the  Lady 
Augusta,  said  in  a  solemn  tone — 

"  I  am,  as  you  may  well  believe,  none  of  those  knights 
who  roam  through  wood  and  wild  seeking  adventures,  by 
which  I  may  obtain  grace  in  the  eyes  of  a  fair  lady.  Yet 
will  I  to  a  certain  degree  grant  the  request  which  thou  dost 
sojicit  so  anxiously,  and  the  arbitration  of  thy  fate  shall  de- 
pend upon  the  pleasure  of  him  to  whose  will  thou  hast 
expressed  thyself  ready  to  submit  thine  own.  I  will,  on  our 
arrival  at  the  place  of  our  destination,  which  is  now  at  hand, 
write  to  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  send  my  letter,  together 
with  thy  fair  self,  by  a  special  messenger.  He  will,  no 
doubt,  speedily  attend  our  summons,  and  thou  shalt  thyself 
be  satisfied  that  even  he  who  has  as  yet  appeared  deaf  to 
entreaty,  and  insensible  to  earthly  affections,  has  still  some 
sympathy  for  beauty  and  for  virtue.  I  will  put  the  choice 
of  safety  and  thy  future  happiness  into  thine  own  hands  and 
those  of  the  man  whom  thou  hast  chosen  ;  and  thou  mayst 
select  which  thou  wilt  betwixt  those  and  misery." 

"While  he  thus  spoke,  one  of  those  ravines  or  clefts  in  the 
earth  seemed  to  yawn  before  them,  and  entering  it  at  the 
upper  end,  the  Specter  Knight,  with  an  attention  which  he 
had  not  yet  shown,  guided  the  lady's  courser  by  the  rein 
down  the  broken  and  steep  path  by  which  alone  the  bottom 
of  the  tangled  dingle  was  accessible. 

"When  placed  on  firm  ground  after  the  dangers  of  a  descent, 
in  which  her  palfrey  seemed  to  be  sustained  by  the  personal 
strength  and  address  of  the  singular  being  who  had  hold  of 


474  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  bridle,  the  lady  looked  with  some  astonishment  at  aplaoe 
60  well  adapted  for  cojicealment  as  Ihat  which  she  had  now 
reached.  It  appeared  evident  that  it  was  nsed  for  this  pur- 
pose, for  more  than  one  stifled  answer  was  given  to  a  very 
low  bugle-note  emitted  by  the  Knight  of  tlie  Tomb  ;  and 
when  the  same  note  was  repeated,  about  half  a  score  of  armed 
men,  some  wearing  the  dress  of  soldiers,  others  those  of 
shepherds  and  agriculturists,  showed  themselves  imperfectly, 
as  if  acknowledging  the  summous. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"  Hail  to  you,  my  gallant  friends  ! "  said  the  Knight  of 
the  Tomb  to  his  companions,  who  seemed  to  welcome  him 
with  the  eagerness  of  men  engaged  in  the  same  perilous  un- 
dertaking. "  The  winter  has  passed  over,  the  festival  of 
Palm  Sunday  is  come,  and  as  surely  as  the  ice  and  snow  of 
this  season  shall  not  remain  to  chill  the  earth  through  the 
ensuing  summer,  so  surely  we,  in  a  few  hours,  keep  our  word 
to  those  Southron  braggarts,  who  think  their  language  of 
boasting  and  malice  has  as  much  force  over  our  Scottish 
bosoms  as  the  blast  possesses  over  the  autumn  fruits  ;  but  it 
is  not  so.  While  we  choose  to  remain  concealed,  they  may 
as  vainly  seek  to  descry  us  as  a  housewife  would  search  for 
the  needle  she  had  dropped  among  the  withered  foliage  of 
yon  gigantic  oak.  Yet  a  few  hours,  and  the  lost  needle  shall 
become  the  exterminating  sword  of  the  Genius  of  Scotland, 
avenging  ten  thousand  injuries,  and  especially  the  life  of  the 
gallant  Lord  Douglas,  cruelly -done  to  death  as  an  exile  from 
his  native  country." 

An  exclamation  between  a  yell  and  a  groan  burst  from 
the  assembled  retainers  of  Douglas,  upon  being  reminded  of 
the  recent  death  of  their  chief  tian  ;  while  they  seemed  at  the 
same  time  sensible  of  the  necessity  of  making  little  noise, 
lest  they  should  give  the  alarm  to  some  of  the  numerous 
English  parties  which  were  then  traversing  different  parts  of 
the  forest.  The  acclamation,  so  cautiously  uttered,  had 
scarce  died  away  in  silence,  when  the  Knight  of  the  Tomb,  or, 
to  call  him  by  his  proper  name,  Sir  James  Douglas,  again 
addressed  his  handful  of  faitliful  followers. 

"  One  effort,  my  friends,  may  yet  be  made  to  end  our 
strife  with  the  Southron  without  bloodshed.  Fate  has  with- 
in a  few  hours  thrown  into  my  power  the  young  heiress  of 
Berkely,  for  whose  sake  it  is  said  Sir  John  de  Walton  keeps 
with  such  obstinacy  the  castle  which  is  mine  by  inheritance. 
Is  there  one  among  you  who  dare  go,  as  the  honorable  escort 
of  Augusta  de  Berkely,  bearing  a  letter,  explaining  the  terms 
on  which  I  am  willing  to  restore  her  to  her  lover,  to  freedom, 
and  to  her  English  lordships  ?" 

"If  there  is  none  other/'  said  a  tall  man,  dressed  in  the 
475 


476  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

tattered  attire  of  a  woodsman,  and,  being,  in  fact,  no  other 
than  the  very  Michael  Turnbull  who  had  already  given  so  ex- 
traordinary a  proof  of  his  undaunted  manhood,  "  I  will  gladly 
be  the  person  who  will  be  the  lady's  henchman  on  this 
expedition." 

*'Thou  art  never  wanting,''  said  the  Douglas,  ''where  a 
manly  deed  is  to  be  done ;  but  remember,  this  lady  must 
pledge  to  us  her  word  and  oath  that  she  will  hold  herself  our 
faithful  prisoner,  rescue  or  no  rescue  ;  that  she  will  consider 
herself  as  pledged  for  the  life,  freedom,  and  fair  usage  of 
Michael  Turnbull  ;  and  that,  if  Sir  John  de  Walton  refuse 
my  terms,  she  must  hold  herself  obliged  to  return  with  Turn- 
bull  to  our  presence,  in  order  to  be  disposed  of  at  our 
pleasure." 

There  was  much  in  these  conditions  which  struck  the  Lady 
Augusta  with  natural  doubt  and  horror  ;  nevertheless,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  the  declaration  of  the  Douglas  gave  a  species 
of  decision  to  her  situation  which  might  have  otherwise  been 
unattainable  ;  and,  from  the  high  opinion  which  she  enter- 
tained of  the  Douglas's  chivalry,  sho  could  not  bring  herself 
to  think  that  any  part  which  he  might  play  in  the  approach- 
ing drama  would  be  other  than  that  which  a  perfect  good 
knight  would,  under  all  circumstances,  maintain  towards 
his  enemy.  Even  with  respect  to  De  Walton  she  felt  her- 
self relieved  of  a  painful  difficulty.  The  idea  of  her  being 
discovered  by  the  knight  himself  in  a  male  disguise  had 
preyed  upon  her  spirits  ;  and  she  felt  as  if  guilty  of  a  depar- 
ture from  the  laws  of  womanhood,  in  having  extended  her 
favor  towards  him  beyond  maidenly  limits — a  step,  too,  which 
might  tend  to  lessen  her  in  the  eyes  of  the  lover  for  whom 
she  had  hazarded  so  much. 

The  heart,  she   said,  is  lightly  prized 

That  is  but  lightly  won  ; 
And  long  shall  mourn  the  heartless  man 

That  leaves  his  love  too  soon. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  be  brought  before  him  as  a  prisoner 
was  indeed  a  circumstance  equally  perplexing  and  unpleas- 
ing,  but  it  was  one  which  was  beyond  her  control,  and  the 
Douglas  into  whose  hands  she  had  fallen,  appeared  to  her  to 
represent  the  deity  in  the  play,  whose  entrance  was  almost 
sufficient  to  bring  its  perplexities  to  a  conclusion  ;  she  there- 
fore not  unwillingly  submitted  to  take  what  oaths  and  prom- 
ises were  required  by  the  party  in  whose  hands  she  found 
herself,  and  accordingly  engaged  to  be  a  true  prisoner,  what" 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  477 

ever  might  occur.  Meantime,  she  strictly  obeyed  the  di- 
rections of  those  who  had  her  motions  at  command,  devoutly 
praying  that  circumstances,  in  themselves  so  adverse,  might 
nevertheless  work  together  for  the  safety  of  her  lover  and 
her  own  freedom. 

A  pause  ensued,  during  which  a  slight  repast  was  place-d 
before  the  Lady  Augusta,  who  was  well-nigh  exhausted  with 
the  fatigues  of  her  journey. 

Douglas  and  his  partisans,  meanwhile,  whispered  together, 
as  if  unwilling  she  should  hear  their  conference  ;  while,  to 
purchase  their  good-will,  if  possible,  she  studiously  avoided 
every  appearance  of  listening. 

After  some  conversation,  Turnbull,  who  appeared  to  con- 
sider the  lady  as  peculiarly  his  charge,  said  to  her  in  a  harsh 
voice,  "Do  not  fear,  lady;  no  wrong  shall  be  done  you  ; 
nevertheless,  you  must  be  content  for  a  space  to  be  blind- 
folded. 

She  submitted  to  this  in  silent  terror ;  and  the  trooper, 
wrapping  part  of  a  mantle  round  her  head,  did  not  assist  her 
to  remount  her  palfrey,  but  lent  her  his  arm  to  support  her 
in  this  blinded  state. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  ground  which  they  traversed  was,  as  Lady  Augusta  could 
feel,  very  broken  and  uneven,  and  sometimes,  as  she  thought, 
encumbered  with  ruins,  which  were  difficult  to  surmount. 
The  strength  of  her  comrade  assisted  her  forward  on  such 
occasions  ;  but  his  help  was  so  roughly  administered  that  the 
lady  once  or  twice,  in  fear  or  suffering,  was  compelled  to 
groan  or  sigh  heavily,  whatever  was  her  desire  to  suppress 
such  evidence  of  the  apprehension  which  she  underwent,  or 
the  pain  which  she  endured.  Presently,  upon  an  occasion 
of  this  kind^  she  was  distinctly  sensible  that  the  rough  woods- 
man was  removed  from  her  side,  and  another  of  the  party 
substituted  in  his  stead,  whose  voice,  more  gentle  than  that 
of  his  companion,  she  thought  she  had  lately  heard. 

"  Noble  lady,"  were  the  words,  "fear  not  the  slightest  in- 
jury at  our  hands,  and  accept  of  my  ministry  instead  of  that 
of  my  henchman,  who  has  gone  forward  with  our  letter ;  do 
not  think  me  presuming  on  my  situation  if  I  bear  you  in  my 
arms  through  ruins  where  you  could  not  easily  move  alone 
and  blindfold." 

At  the  same  time,  the  Lady  Augusta  Berkely  felt  herself 
raised  from  the  earth  in  the  strong  arms  of  a  man,  and  borne 
onward  with  the  utmost  gentleness,  without  the  necessity  of 
making  those  painful  exertions  which  had  been  formerly 
required.  She  was  ashamed  of  her  situation  ;  but.  however 
delicate,  it  was  no  time  to  give  vent  to  complaints,  which 
might  have  given  offense  to  persons  whom  it  was  her  interest 
to  conciliate.  She,  therefore,  submitted  to  necessity,  and 
heard  the  following  words  whispered  in  her  ear — 

"Fear  nothing,  there  is  no  evil  intended  you  ;  nor  shall 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  if  he  loves  you  as  you  deserve  at  his 
hand,  receive  any  harm  on  our  part.  We  call  on  him  but 
to  do  justice  to  ourselves  and  to  you  ;  and  be  assured  you 
will  best  accomplish  your  own  happiness  by  aiding  our  views, 
which  are  equally  in  favor  of  your  wishes  and  you'r  freedom." 

The  Lady  Augusta  would  have  made  some  answer  to  this, 

but  her  breath,  betwixt  fear  and  the  speed  with  whicli  she 

was  transported,  refused  to  permit  her  to  use  intelligible  ac- 

oentB.     Meantime,  she  began  to  be  sensible  that  she"  was  in" 

478 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  479 

closed  within  some  building,  and  probably  a  ruinous  one  ; 
for  although  the  mode  of  her  transportation  no  longer  per- 
mitted her  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  her  path  in  any  respect 
distinctly,  yet  the  absence  of  the  external  air — which  was, 
however,  sometimes  excluded  and  sometimes  admitted  in  furi- 
ous gusts — intimated  tliat  she  was  conducted  through  build- 
ings partly  entire,  and  in  other  places  admitting  the  wind 
through  wide  rents  and  gaps.  In  one  place  it  seemed  to  the 
lady  as  if  she  passed  through  a  considerable  body  of  people,  all 
of  whom  observed  silence,  although  there  was  sometimes  heard 
among  them  a  murmur,  to  which  every  one  present  in  some 
degree  contributed,  although  the  general  sound  did  not  ex- 
ceed a  whisper.  Her  situation  made  her  attend  to  every 
circumstance,  and  she  did  not  fail  to  observe  that  these  per- 
sons made  way  for  him  who  bore  her,  until  at  length  she 
became  sensible  that  he  descended  by  the  regular  steps  of  a 
stair,  and  that  she  was  now  alone  excepting  his  company. 
Arrived,  as  it  appeared  to  the  lady,  on  more  level  ground, 
they  proceeded  on  their  singular  road  by  a  course  which  ap- 
peared neither  direct  nor  easy,  and  through  an  atmosphere 
which  was  close  to  a  smothering  degree,  and  felt  at  the  same 
time  damp  and  disagreeable,  as  if  from  the  vapors  of  a  new- 
made  grave. 

Her  guide  again  spoke.  "  Bear  up.  Lady  Augusta,  for  a 
little  longer,  and  continue  to  endure  that  atmosphere  which 
must  be  one  day  common  to  us  all.  By  the  necessity  of  my 
situation,  I  must  resign  my  present  office  to  your  original 
guide,  and  can  only  give  you  my  assurance  that  neither  he 
nor  any  one  else  shall  offer  you  the  least  incivility  or  insult, 
and  on  this  you  may  rely,  on  the  faith  of  a  man  of  honor." 

He  placed  her,  as  he  said  these  w^ords,  upon  the  soft  turf, 
and,  to  her  infinite  refreshment,  made  her  sensible  that  she 
was  once  more  in  the  open  air,  and  free  from  the  smothering 
atmosphere  which  had  before  oppressed  her  like  that  of  a 
charnel-house.  At  the  same  time,  she  breathed  in  a  whisper 
an  anxious  wish  that  she  might  be  permitted  to  disencumber 
herself  from  the  folds  of  the  mantle,  which  excluded  almost 
the  power  of  breathing,  though  intended  only  to  prevent  her 
seeing  by  what  road  she  traveled.  She  immediately  found 
it  unfolded,  agreeably  to  her  request,  and  hastened,  with 
uncovered  eyes  to  take  note  of  the  scene  around  her. 

It  was  overshadowed  by  tliick  oak-trees,  among  which 
stood  some  remnants  of  buildings,  or  what  might  have 
seemed  such,  being  perhaps  the  same  in  which  she  had  been 
lately  wandering.     A  clear  fountain  of  living  water  bubbled 


480  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

forth  from  under  the  twisted  roots  of  one  of  those  trees,  and 
oifered  the  lady  the  opportunity  of  a  draught  of  the  pure 
element,  and  in  which  she  also  bathed  her  face,  which  had 
received  more  than  one  scratch  in  the  course  of  her  journey, 
in  spite  of  the  care,  and  almost  the  tenderness,  with  which 
she  had  latterly  been  borne  along.  The  cool  water  speedily 
stopt  the  bleeding  of  those  trifling  injuries,  and  the  applica- 
tion served  at  the  same  time  to  recall  the  scattered  senses  of 
the  damsel  herself.  Her  first  idea  was  whether  an  attempt 
to  escape,  if  such  should  appear  possible,  was  not  advisable. 
A  moment's  reflection,  however,  satisfied  her  that  such  a 
scheme  was  not  to  be  thought  of;  and  such  second  thoughts 
were  confirmed  by  the  approach  of  the  gigantic  form  of  the 
huntsman  Turnbull,  the  rough  tones  of  whose  voice  were 
heard  before  his  figure  was  obvious  to  her  eye. 

"  Were  you  impatient  for  my  return,  fair  lady  ?  Such  as 
I,"  he  continued,  in  an  ironical  tone  of  voice,  "'  who  are 
foremost  in  the  chase  of  wild  stags  and  sylvan  cattle,  are  not 
in  use  to  lag  behind  when  fair  ladies  like  you  are  the  objects 
of  pursuit ;  and  if  I  am  not  so  constant  in  my  attendance  as 
you  might  expect,  believe  me,  it  is  because  I  was  engaged  in 
another  matter,  to  which  I  must  sacrifice  for  a  little  even 
the  duty  of  attending  on  you," 

"  I  offer  no  resistance,"  said  the  lady  ;  "  forbear,  however, 
in  discharging  thy  duty,  to  augment  my  uneasiness  by  thy 
conversation,  for  thy  master  hath  pledged  me  his  word  that 
he  will  not  suffer  me  to  be  alarmed  or  ill-treated." 

"  Nay,  fair  one,"  replied  the  huntsman,  "  I  ever  thought 
it  was  fit  to  make  interest  by  soft  words  with  fair  ladies  ;  but 
if  you  like  it  not,  I  have  no  such  pleasure  in  hunting  for 
fine  holyday  terms  but  that  I  can  with  equal  ease  hold  my- 
self silent.  Come,  then,  since  we  must  wait  upon  this 
lover  of  yours  ere  morning  closes,  and  learn  his  last  resolu- 
tion touching  a  matter  which  is  become  so  strangely  com- 
plicated, I  will  hold  no  more  intercourse  with  you  as  a 
female,  but  talk  to  you  as  a  person  of  sense,  although  an 
Englishwoman." 

"  You  will,"  replied  the  lady,  "best  fulfil  the  intentions 
of  those  by  whose  orders  you  act  by  holding  no  society  with 
me  whatever,  otherwise  than  is  necessary  in  the  character  of 
guide." 

The  man  lowered  his  brows,  yet  seemed  to  assent  to  what 
the  Lady  of  Berkely  proposed,  and  remained  silent  as  they 
for  some  time  pursued  their  course,  each  pondering  'over 
their  own  share  of  meditation,  which  probably  turned  upon 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  481 

matters  essentially  different.  At  length  the  loud  blast  of  a 
bugle  was  heard  at  no  great  distance  from  the  unsocial 
fellow-travelers.  "  That  is  the  person  we  seek,"  said  Turn- 
bull  :  '•'  1  know  his  blast  from  any  other  who  frequents  this 
forest,  and  my  orders  are  to  bring  you  to  sjDeech  of  him." 

The  blood  darted  rapidly  through  the  lady's  veins  at  the 
thought  of  being  thus  unceremoniously  presented  to  the 
knight  in  whose  favor  she  had  confessed  a  rash  preference 
more  agreeable  to  the  manners  of  those  times,  when  exag- 
gerated sentiments  often  inspired  actions  of  extravagant 
generosity,  than  in  our  days,  when  everything  is  accounted 
absurd  which  does  not  turn  upon  a  motive  connected  with 
the  immediate  selfish  interests  of  the  actor  himself.  When 
Turabull,  therefore,  winded  his  horn,  as  if  \\\  answer  to  the 
blast  which  they  had  heard,  the  lady  was  disposed  to  fly  at 
the  first  impulse  of  sliame  and  of  fear.  Turnbull  perceived 
her  intention,  and  caught  hold  of  her  with  no  very  gentle 
grasp,  saying,  "  Nay,  lady,  it  is  to  be  understood  that  you 
play  your  own  part  in  the  drama,  which,  unless  you  continue 
on  the  stage,  will  conclude  unsatisfactorily  to  us  all,  in  a 
combat  at  entrance  between  your  lover  and  me,  wlien  it  will 
appear  which  of  us  is  most  worthy  of  your  favor." 

*'  I  will  be  patient,"  said  the  lady,  bethinking  her  that 
even  this  strange  man's  presence,  and  the  compulsion  which 
he  appeared  to  use  towards  her,  was  a  sort  of  excuse  to  her 
female  scruples  for  coming  into  the  presence  of  her  lover,  at 
least  at  her  first  appearance  before  him,  in  a  disguise  which 
her  feelings  confessed  was  not  extremely  decorous,  or  recon- 
cilable to  the  dignity  of  her  sex. 

The  moment  after  these  thoughts  had  passed  through  her 
mind,  the  tramp  of  a  horse  was  heard  approaching  ;  and  Sir 
John  de  Walton,  pressing  through  the  trees,  became  aware 
of  the  presence  of  his  lady,  captive,  as  it  seemed,  in  the 
grasp  of  a  Scottish  outlaw,  who  was  only  known  to  him  by 
his  former  audacity  at  the  hunting-match. 

His  surprise  and  joy  only  supplied  the  knight  with  these 
hasty  expressions — "  Caitiff,  let  go  thy  hold  !  or  die  in  thy 
profane  attempt  to  control  the  motions  of  one  whom  the 
very  sun  in  heaven  should  be  proud  to  obey."  At  the  same 
time,  apprehensive  that  the  huntsman  migiit  hurry  the  lady 
from  his  sight  by  means  of  some  entangled  path — such  as 
upon  a  former  occasion  had  served  him  for  escape — Sir  John 
de  Walton  dropped  his  cumbrous  lance,  of  which  the  trees  did 
not  permit  him  the  perfect  use,  and,  springing  from  his 
horse,  approached  Turnbull  with  his  drawn  sword. 


482  WAVEBLEY  NOVEL H 

The  Scottishraan,  keeping  liis  left  hand  still  upon  the 
lady's  mantle,  uplifted  with  his  right  his  battle-ax,  or  Jed- 
wood  staff,  for  tiie  purpose  of  parrying  and  returning  the 
blow  of  his  antagonist ;  but  the  lady  spoke. 

"Sir  John  de  Walton,"  she  said,  "for  Heaven's  sake, 
forbear  all  violence,  till  yon  hear  npon  what  pacific  object  I 
am  brought  hither,  and  by  wliat  peacefnl  means  these  wars 
may  be  put  an  end  to.  This  man,  though  an  enemy  of  yours, 
has  been  to  me  a  civil  and  respectful  guardian  ;  ancl  I  en- 
treat you  to  forbear  him  while  he  speaks  the  purpose  for 
which  he  has  brought  me  hither." 

"  To  speak  of  compulsion  and  the  Lady  de  Berkely  in  the 
same  breath  would  itself  because  enough  for  instant  death," 
said  the  governor  of  Douglas  Castle  ;  "but  3'ou  command, 
lady,  and  I  spare  his  insignificant  life,  altliougli  I  have  causes 
of  complaint  against  him  the  least  of  which  were  good  war- 
rant, had  he  a  thousand  lives,  for  the  forfeiture  of  them 
all." 

"John  de  Walton,"  replied  Turnbull,  "this  lady  well 
knows  that  no  fear  of  thee  operates  in  my  mind  to  render 
this  a  peaceful  meeting  ;  and  were  I  not  withheld  by  other 
circumstances  of  great  consideration  to  the  Douglas,  as  well 
as  thyself,  I  should  have  no  more  fear  in  facing  the  utmost 
thou  couldst  do  than  I  have  now  in  leveling  that  sapling  to 
the  earth  it  grows  upon." 

So  saying,  Michael  Turnbull  raised  his  battle-ax,  and 
struck  from  a  neighboring  oak-tree  a  branch,  wellnigh  as 
thick  as  a  man's  arm,  which,  with  all  its  twigs  and  leaves, 
rushed  to  the  ground  between  De  Walton  and  the  Scotchman, 
giving  a  singular  instance  of  the  keenness  of  his  weapon,  and 
the  strength  and  dexterity  with  which  he  used  it. 

"  Let  there  be  truce,  then,  between  us,  good  fellow,"  said 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  "  since  it  is  the  lady's  pleasure  that  such 
should  be  the  case,  and  let  me  know  what  thou  hast  to  say 
to  me  respecting  her  ?  " 

"'  On  that  subject,"  said  Turnbull,  *'  my  words  are  few, 
but  mark  them,  sir  Englishman.  The  Lady  Augusta 
Berkely,  wandering  in  this  country,  has  become  a  prisoner 
of  tlie  noble  Lord  Douglas,  the  rightfnl  inheritor  of  the 
castle  and  lordship,  and  he  finds  himself  obliged  to  attach  to 
the  liberty  of  this  lady  the  following  conditions,  being  in  all 
respects  such  as  good  and  lawful  warfare  entitles  a  knight  to 
exact.  That  is  to  say,  in  all  honor  and  safety  the  Lady 
Augusta  shall  be  delivered  to  Sir  John  de  Walton,  or  those 
whom  he  shall  name  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  her.     On 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  483 

the  other  hand,  the  Custle  of  Douglas  itself,  together  with 
all  outposts  or  garrisons  thereunto  belonging,  shall  be  made 
over  and  surrendered  by  Sir  John  de  Walton,  in  the  same 
situation,  and  containing  the  same  provisions  and  artillery, 
as  are  now  within  their  walls ;  and  the  space  of  a  month  of 
truce  shall  be  permitted  to  Sir  James  Douglas  and  Sir  Johr* 
de  Walton  fartlier  to  regulate  the  terms  of  surrender  on  both 
parts,  having  first  piigiited  their  knightly  word  and  oath 
that  in  the  exchange  of  the  honorable  lady  for  the  foresaid 
castle  lies  the  full  import  of  the  present  agreement,  and  that 
every  other  subject  of  dispute  shall,  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
noble  knights  foresaid,  be  honorably  compounded  and  agreed, 
betwixt  them  ;  or,  at  their  pleasure,  settled  knightly  bj 
single  combat,  according  to  usage,  and  in  a  fair  field,  before 
any  honorable  person  that  may  possess  power  enough  to 
preside." 

It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  the  astonishment  of  Sir  John 
de  Walton  at  hearing  the  contents  of  this  extraordinary 
cartel  ;  he  looked  towards  the  Lady  of  Berkely  with  that  as- 
pect of  despair  with  which  a  criminal  may  be  supposed  to  see 
his  guardian  angel  prepare  for  departure.  Through  her 
mind  also  similar  ideas  flowed,  as  if  they  contained  a  conces- 
sion of  what  she  had  considered  as  the  summit  of  her  wishes, 
out  under  conditions  disgraceful  to  her  lover,  like  the 
cherub's  fiery  sword  of  yore,  which  was  a  barrier  between 
our  first  parents  and  the  blessings  of  Paradise. 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  broke 
silence  in  these  words  :  '•'  Noble  lady,  you  may  be  surprised 
if  a  condition  be  imposed  upon  me,  having  for  its  object 
your  freedom,  and  if  Sir  John  de  Walton,  already  standing 
under  those  obligations  to  you  which  he  is  proud  of  ac- 
knowledging, should  yet  hesitate  on  accepting,  with  the 
utmost  eagerness,  what  must  ensure  your  restoration  to 
freedom  and  independence  ;  but  so  it  is,  that  the  words  now 
spoken  have  thrilled  in  mine  ear  without  reaching  to  my 
understanding,  and  I  must  pray  the  Lady  of  Berkely  for 
pardon  if  I  take  time  to  reconsider  them  for  a  short  space.'' 

"  And  I,"  replied  Turnbull,  "  have  only  power  to  allow 
you  half  an  hour  for  the  consideration  of  an  offer  in  accept- 
ing which,  methinks,  you  should  jump  shoulder-height, 
instead  of  asking  any  time  for  reflection.  What  does  this 
cartel  exact,  save  what  your  duty  as  a  knight  implicitly 
obliges  you  to  ?  You  have  engaged  yourself  to  become  the 
agent  of  the  tyrant  Edward,  in  holding  Douglas  Castle,  as 
his  commander,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  Scottish  nation  and  of 


484  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

knight  of  Douglas  Dale,  '^lio  never,  as  a  community  or  as  an 
individual,  were  guilty  of  the  least  injury  towards  you  ;  you 
are  therefore  prosecuting  a  false  path,  unworthy  of  a  good 
knight.  On  the  other  hand,  the  freedom  and  safety  of  your 
lady  is  now  proposed  to  be  pledged  to  you,  with  a  full  as- 
surance of  her  liberty  and  honor,  on  consideration  of  your 
withdrawing  from  the  unjust  line  of  conduct  in  which"^you 
have  suffered  yourself  to  be  imprudently  engaged.  If  you  per- 
severe in  it,  you  place  your  own  honor  and  the  lady's  happiness 
in  the  hands  of  men  whom  3'ou  have  done  everything  in  your 
power  to  render  desperate,  and  whom,  thus  irritated,  it  is 
most  probable  you  may  find  such. 

"  It  is  not  from  thee  at  least/'  said  the  knight,  "  that  I 
shall  learn  to  estimate  the  manner  in  which  Douglas  will  ex- 
plain the  laws  of  war,  or  De  Walton  receive  them  at  his  dic- 
tating." 

"I  am  not,  then,"  said  Turnbiill,  "^received  as  a  friendly 
messenger  ?  Farewell,  and  think  of  this  lady  as  being  in 
any  hands  but  those  which  are  safe,  while  you  make  up  at 
leisure  your  mind  upon  the  message  I  have  brought  you. 
Come,  madam,  we  must  be  gone." 

So  saying,  he  seized  upon  the  lady's  hand,  and  pulled  her, 
as  if  to  force  her  to  withdraw.  •  The  lady  had  stood  motion- 
less, and  almost  senseless,  while  these  speeches  were  ex- 
changed between  the  warriors  ;  but  when  she  felt  the  grasp 
of  Michael  Turnbull  she  exclaimed,  like  one  almost  beside 
herself  with  fear — ••''  Help  me,  De  Walton  !  " 

The  knight,  stung  to  instant  rage,  assaulted  the  forester 
mith  the  utmost  fury,  and  dealt  him  with  his  long  sword, 
almost  at  unawares,  two  or  three  heavy  blows,  by  which  he 
was  so  wounded  that  he  sunk  backwards  in  the  thicket,  and 
De  Walton  was  about  to  despatch  him  when  he  was  prevented 
by  the  anxious  cry  of  the  lady — "  Alas  !  De  Walton,  what 
have  you  done  ?  This  man  was  only  an  ambassador,  and 
should  have  passed  free  from  injury,  while  he  confined  him- 
self to  the  delivery  of  what  he  was  charged  with  ;and  if  thou 
hast  slain  him,  who  knows  how  frightful  may  prove  the  ven- 
geance exacted  ! " 

The  voice  of  the  lady  seemed  to  recover  the  huntsman  from 
the  effects  of  the  blows  he  had  received  :  he  sprung  on  his 
feet,  saying,  "  Xever  mind  me,  nor  think  of  my  becoming 
the  means  of  making  mischief.  The  knight,  in  his  haste, 
spoke  without  giving  me  warning  and  defiance,  which  gave 
him  an  advantage  wliich,  I  think,  he  would  otherwise  have 
Bcomed  to  have  taken  in  such  a  case.     I  will  renew  the  com- 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  485 

bat  on  fairer  terms,  or  call  another  champion,  as  the  knight 
pleases."     With  these  words  he  disappeared. 

"  Fear  not,  empress  of  De  Walton's  thoughts,"  answered 
the  knight,  "but  believe  that,  if  we  regain  together  the 
shelter  of  Douglas  Castle  and  the  safeguard  of  St-George^s 
cross,  thou  mayst  laugh  at  all.  And  if  you  can  but  pardon, 
what  I  shall  never  be  able  to  forgive  myself,  the  mole-like 
blindness  which  did  not  recognize  the  sun  while  under  a 
temporary  eclipse,  the  task  cannot  be  named  too  hard  for 
mortal  valor  to  achieve  which  I  shall  not  willingly  under- 
take to  wipe  out  the  memory  of  my  grievous  fault." 

"  Mention  it  no  more,"  said  the  lady  ;  it  is  not  at  such  a 
time  as  this,  when  our  lives  are  for  the  moment  at  stake, 
that  quarrels  upon  slighter  topics  are  to  be  recurred  to.  I 
can  tell  you,  if  you  do  not  yet  know,  that  the  Scots  are  in 
arms  in  this  vicinity,  and  that  even  the  earth  has  yawned  to 
conceal  them  from  the  sight  of  your  garrison." 

"  Let  it  yawn,  then,"  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  "  and  suf- 
fer every  fiend  in  the  infernal  abyss  to  escape  from  his  prison- 
house  and  reinforce  our  enemies  ;  still,  fairest,  having 
received  in  thee  a  pearl  of  matchless  price,  my  spurs  shall 
be  hacked  from  my  heels  by  the  basest  scullion  if  I  turn  my 
horse's  head  to  the  rear  before  the  utmost  force  these  ruffians 
can  assemble,  either  upon  earth  or  from  underneath  it.  In 
thy  name  I  defy  them  all  to  instant  combat." 

As  Sir  John  de  Walton  pronounced  these  last  words  in 
something  of  an  exalted  tone,  a  tall  cavalier,  arrayed  in  black 
armor  of  the  simplest  form,  stepped  forth  from  that  part  of 
the  thicket  where  Turnbull  had  disappeared.  "  I  am,"  he 
said,  "  James  of  Douglas,  and  your  challenge  is  accepted. 
I,  the  challenged,  name  the  arms  our  knightly  weapons  as 
we  now  wear  them,  and  our  place  of  combat  this  field  or  din- 
gle called  the  Bloody  Sykes,*  the  time  being  instant,  and 
the  combatants,  like  true  knights,  foregoing  each  advantage 
on  either  side/' 

"  So  be  it,  in  God's  name,"  said  the  English  knight,  who, 
though  surprised  at  being  called  upon  to  so  sudden  an  en- 
counter with  so  formidable  a  warrior  as  young  Douglas,  was 
too  proud  to  dream  of  avoiding  the  combat.  Making  a  sign 
to  the  lady  to  retire  behind  him,  that  he  might  not  lose  the 
advantage  which  he  had  gained  by  setting  her  at  liberty  from 
the  forester,  he  drew  his  sword,  and  with  a  deliberate  and 
prepared  attitude  of  offense  moved  slowly  to  the  encounter. 
It  was  a  dreadful  one,  for  the  courage  ^jxd  skill  both  of  the 
*See  Note  10, 


486  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

native  Lord  of  Douglas  Dale  and  of  De  Walton  were  among 
the  most  renowned  of  the  times,  and  perhaps  the  world  of 
chivalry  could  hardly  have  produced  two  knights  more 
famous.  Their  blows  fell  as  if  urged  by  some  migiity  engine, 
where  they  were  met  and  parried  with  equal  strength  and 
dexterity  ;  nor  seemed  it  likely,  in  the  course  of  ten  minutes' 
encounter,  that  an  advantage  would  be  gained  by  either 
combatant  over  the  other.  An  instant  they  stopped  by 
mutually  implied  assent,  as  it  seemed,  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  breath,  during  which  Douglas  said,  "I  beg  that  this 
noble  lady  may  understand  that  her  own  freedom  is  no  way 
concerned  in  the  present  contest,  which  entirely  regards  the 
injustice  done  by  this  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  by  his  nation 
of  England,  to  the  memory  of  my  father,  and  to  my  own 
natural  rights." 

*'  You  are  generous,  sir  knight,"  replied  the  lady  ;  "  but 
in  what  circumstances  do  you  place  me,  if  you  deprive  me 
of  my  protector  by  death  or  captivity,  and  leave  me  alone  in 
a  foreign  land  ?  " 

"  If  such  should  be  the  event  of  the  combat,"  replied  Sir 
James,  "  the  Douglas  himself,  lady,  will  safely  restore  thee 
to  thy  native  land";  for  never  did  his  sword  do  an  injury  for 
which  he  was  not  willing  to  make  amends  with  the  same 
weapon  :  and  if  Sir  John  de  Walton  will  make  the  slightest 
admission  that  he  renounces  maintaining  the  present  strife, 
were  it  only  by  yielding  up  a  feather  from  the  plume  of  his 
helmet,  Douglas  will  renounce  every  purpose  on  his  part 
which  can  touch  the  lady's  honor  or  safety,  and  the  combat 
may  be  suspended  until  the  national  quarrel  again  brings  us 
together." 

Sir  John  de  Walton  pondered  a  moment,  and  the  lady, 
although  she  did  not  speak,  looked  at  him  with  eyes  which 
plainlv  expressed  how  much  she  wished  that  he  would  choose 
the  less  hazardous  alternative.  But  the  knight's  own  scruples 
prevented  his  bringing  the  case  to  so  favorable  an  arbitra- 
ment. 

"  Xever  shall  it  be  said  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,"  he  re- 
plied, "that  he  compromised,  in  the  slightest  decree,  his 
own  honor  or  that  of  his  country.  This  battle  may  end  in 
my  defeat,  or  rather  death,  and  in  that  case  my  earthly 
prospects  are  closed,  and  I  resign  to  Douglas,  with  my  last 
breath,  the  charge  of  the  Lady  Augusta,  trusting  that  he 
will  defend  her  with  his  life,  and  find  the  means  of  replacing 
her  with  safety  in  the  halls  of  her  father.  But  while  I 
survive  she  may  have  abetter,  but  will  not  need  another,  pro' 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  487 

tector  tliau  he  who  is  honored  by  being  her  own  choice  ;  nor 
will  I  yield  np,  were  it  a  plnme  from  my  helmet,  implying 
that  I  have  maintained  an  nnjust  quarrel,  either  in  the 
cause  of  England  or  of  the  fairest  of  her  daughters.  Thus 
far  alone  I  will  concede  to  Douglas — an  instant  truce,  pro- 
vided the  lady  shall  not  be  interrupted  in  her  retreat  to 
England,  and  the  combat  be  fought  out  upon  another  day. 
The  castle  and  territory  of  Douglas  is  the  property  of 
Edward  of  England,  the  governor  in  his  name  is  the  rightful 
governor,  and  on  this  point  I  will  fight  while  my  eyelids  are 
unclosed." 

"  Time  flies,"  said  Douglas,  "  without  waiting  for  our  re- 
solves ;  nor  is  there  any  part  of  his  motions  of  such  value  a? 
that  which  is  passing  with  every  breath  of  vital  air  which  we 
presently  draw.  Why  should  we  adjourn  till  to-morrow 
that  which  can  be  as  well  finished  to-day  ?  Will  our  swords 
be  sharper  or  our  arms  stronger  to  wield  them  than  they 
are  at  this  moment  ?  Douglas  will  do  all  which  knight  can 
do  to  succor  a  lady  in  distress  ;  but  he  will  not  grant  to 
her  knight  the  slighest  mark  of  deference,  which  Sir  John 
de  Walton  vainly  supposes  himself  able  to  extort  by  force  of 
arms." 

With  these  words,  the  knights  engaged  once  more  in  mor- 
tal combat,  and  the  lady  felt  uncertain  whether  she  should 
attempt  her  escape  through  the  devious  paths  of  the  wood 
or  abide  the  issue  of  this  obstinate  fight.  It  was  rather  her 
desire  to  see  the  fate  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  than  any  other 
consideration  which  induced  her  to  remain,  as  if  fascinated, 
upon  the  spot,  where  one  of  the  fiercest  quarrels  ever  fought 
was  disputed  by  two  of  the  bravest  champions  that  ever  drew 
sword.  At  last  the  lady  attempted  to  put  a  stop  to  the  com- 
bat by  appealing  to  the  bells  which  began  to  ring  for  the 
service  of  the  day,  which  was  Palm  Sunday. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,"  she  said,  "for  your  own  sakes,  and 
for  that  of  lady's  love,  and  the  duties  of  chivalry,  hold  your 
hands  only  for  an  hour,  and  take  chances  that,  where 
strength  is  so  equal,  means  will  be  found  of  converting  the 
truce  into  a  solid  peace.  Think,  this  is  Palm  Sunday,  and 
will  you  defile  with  blood  such  a  peculiar  festival  of  Chris- 
tianity ?  Intermit  your  feud  at  least  so  far  as  to  pass  to  the 
nearest  church,  bearing  with  you  branches,  not  in  the 
ostentatious  mode  of  earthly  conquerors,  but  as  rendering  due 
homage  to  the  rules  of  the  blessed  church  and  the  institutions 
of  our  holy  religion." 

"  I  was  on  my  road,  fair  lady,  for  that  purpose,  to  the 


488  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

holy  church  of  Douglas/'  said  the  Englishman,  ''when  I 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  you  at  this  place ,  nor  do  I 
object  to  proceed  thither  even  now,  holding  truce  for  an 
hour,  and  I  fear  not  to  find  there  friends  to  whom  I  can 
commit  you  with  assurance  of  safety,  in  case  I  am  unfor- 
tunate in  the  combat  which  is  now  broken  off,  to  be  resumed 
after  the  service  of  the  day/* 

''I  also  assent,"  said  the  Douglas,  "to  a  truce  for  such 
short  space  ;  nor  do  I  fear  that  there  may  be  good  Christians 
enough  at  the  church  who  will  not  see  their  master  over- 
powered by  odds.  Let  us  go  thither,  and  each  take  the 
chance  of  what  Heaven  shall  please  to  send  us." 

From  these  words,  Sir  John  de  Walton  little  doubted  that 
Douglas  had  assured  himself  of  a  party  among  those  wlio 
should  there  assemble  ;  but  he  doubted  not  of  so  many  ol 
the  garrison  being  present  as  would  bridle  every  attempt  eit 
rising  ;  and  the  risk,  he  thought,  was  worth  incurring,  since 
he  should  thereby  secure  an  opportunity  to  place  Lady 
Augusta  de  Berkely  in  safety,  at  least  so  far  as  to  make  her 
liberty  depend  on  the  event  of  a  general  conflict,  instead 
of  the  precarious  issue  of  a  combat  between  himself  and 
Douglas. 

Both  these  distinguished  knights  were  inwardly  of  opinion 
that  the  proposal  of  the  lady,  though  it  relieved  them  from 
their  present  conflict,  by  no  means  bound  them  to  abstain 
from  the  consequences  which  an  accession  of  force  might  add 
to  their  general  strength,  and  each  relied  upon  his  superior- 
ity, in  some  degree  provided  for  by  their  previous  proceed- 
ings. Sir  John  de  Walton  made  almost  certain  of  meeting 
with  several  of  his  bands  of  soldiers,  who  were  scouring  the 
country  and  traversing  the  woods  by  his  direction  ;  and 
Douglas,  it  may  be  supposed,  had  not  ventured  himself  in 
person  wdiere  a  price  was  set  upon  his  head  without  being 
attended  by  a  sufficient  number  of  approved  adherents, 
placed  in  more  or  less  connection  with  each  other,  and 
stationed  for  mutual  support.  Each,  therefore,  entertained 
well-grounded  hopes  that,  by  adopting  the  truce  proposed, 
he  would  ensure  himself  an  advantage  over  his  antagonist, 
although  neither  exactly  knew  in  what  manner  or  to  what 
extent  this  success  was  to  be  obtained. 


CHAPTER  XVm 

Eis  talk  was  of  another  world— his  bodements 

Strange,  dovibtful,  and  mysterious  ;  those  who  heard  him 

Listen'd  as  to  a  man  in  feverish  dreams, 

Who  speaks  of  other  objects  than  the  present, 

And  mutters  like  to  him  who  sees  a  vision. 

Old  Play. 

On  the  same  Palm  Sunday  when  De  Walton  and  Douglas 
measured  together  their  mighty  swords,  the  minstrel  Ber- 
tram was  busied  with  the  ancient  book  of  prophecies,  which 
we  have  already  mentioned  as  the  supposed  composition  of 
Thomas  the  Rhymer,  but  not  without  many  anxieties  as  to 
the  fate  of  his  lady,  and  the  events  which  were  passing  around 
him.  As  a  minstrel,  he  was  desirous  of  an  auditor  to  enter 
into  the  discoveries  which  he  should  make  in  that  mystic 
volume,  as  well  as  to  assist  in  passing  away  the  time  ;  Sir 
John  de  Walton  had  furnished  him,  in  Gilbert  Greenleaf  the 
archer,  with  one  who  was  well  contented  to  play  the  listener 
"  from  morn  to  dewy  eve,"  provided  a  flask  of  Gascon  wine, 
or  a  stoup  of  good  English  ale,  remained  on  the  board.  It 
may  be  remembered  that  De  Walton,  when  he  dismissed  the 
minstrel  from  the  dungeon,  was  sensible  that  he  owed  him 
some  compensation  for  the  causeless  suspicion  which  had 
dictated  his  imprisonment,  more  particularly  as  he  was  a 
valued  servant,  and  had  shown  himself  the  faithful  confidant 
of  the  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely,  and  the  person  who  was 
moreover  likely  to  know  all  the  motives  and  circumstances 
of  her  Scottish  journey.  To  secure  his  good  wishes  was, 
therefore,  politic  ;  and  De  Walton  had  intimated  to  his 
faithful  archer  that  he  was  to  lay  aside  all  suspicion  of 
Bertram,  but  at  the  same  time  keep  him  in  sight,  and,  if 
possible,  in  good  humor  with  the  governor  of  the  castle  and 
his  adherents.  Greenleaf,  accordingly,  had  no  doubt  in  his 
own  mind  that  the  only  way  to  please  a  minstrel  was  to  listen 
with  patience  and  commendation  to  the  lays  which  he  liked 
best  to  sing,  or  the  tales  which  he  most  loved  to  tell  ;  and 
in  order  to  insure  the  execution  of  his  master's  commands,  he 
judged  it  necessary  to  demand  of  the  butler  such  store  of  good 
liquor  as  could  not  fail  to  enhance  the  pleasure  of  his  society. 
489 


490  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL S 

Having  thus  fortified  himself  with  the  means  of  bearing 
a  long  interview  with  the  minstrel,  Gilbert  Greenleaf  pro- 
posed to  confer  upon  him  the  bounty  of  an  early  breakfast, 
which,  if  it  pleased  him,  they  might  wash  down  with  a  cup 
of  sack,  and,  having  his  master's  commands  to  show  the 
minstrel  anything  about  the  castle  whicb  he  might  wish  to 
see,  refresh  their  overwearied  spirits  by  attending  a  part  of 
the  garrison  of  Douglas  to  the  service  of  the  day,  which,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  was  of  peculiar  sanctity.  Against 
such  a  proposal  the  minstrel,  a  good  Christian  by  profession, 
and,  by  his  connection  with  the  joyous  science,  a  good  fellow, 
having  no  objections  to  offer,  the  two  comrades,  who  had 
formerly  little  good-will  towards  each  other,  commenced 
their  morning's  repast  on  that  fated  Palm  Sunday  with  all 
manner  of  cordiality  and  good  fellowship. 

''  Do  not  believe,  worthy  miiistrel,"  said  the  archer, 
"  that  my  master  in  any  respect  disparages  your  worth  or 
rank  in  referring  you  for  company  or  conversation  to  so 
poor  a  man  as  myself.  It  is  true,  I  am  no  officer  of  this 
garrison  ;  yet  for  an  old  archer,  who  for  these  thirty  years 
has  lived  by  bow  and  bowstring,  I  do  not — Our  Lady  make 
me  thankful  !  — hold  less  share  in  the  grace  of  Sir  John  de 
Walton,  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  other  approved  good 
soldiers,  than  many  of  those  giddy  young  men  on  whom 
commissions  are  conferred,  and  to  whom  confidences  are 
entrusted,  not  on  account  of  what  they  have  done,  but  what 
their  ancestors  have  done  before  them.  I  pray  you  to  notice 
among  them  one  youth  placed  at  our  head  in  De  Walton's 
absence,  and  who  bears  the  honored  name  of  Aymer  de 
Valence,  being  the  same  with  that  of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
of  whom  I  have  spoken  ;  this  knight  has  also  a  brisk  young 
page,  whom  men  call  Fabian  Ilarbothel." 

"Is  it  to  these  gentlemen  that  your  censure  applies?" 
answered  the  minstrel.  ''^I  should  have  judged  differently, 
having  never,  in  the  course  of  my  experience,  seen  a  young 
man  more  courteous  and  amiable  than  the  young  knight  you 
named." 

"I  nothing  dispute  that  it  may  be  so,"  said  the  archer, 
hastening  to  amend  the  false  step  which  he  had  made  ;  "  but 
in  order  that  it  should  be  so,  it  will  be  necessary  that  he 
conform  to  the  usages  of  his  uncle,  taking  the  advice  of  ex- 
perienced old  soldiers  in  the  emergencies  which  may  present 
themselves  ;  and  not  believing  that  the  knowledge  which  it 
takes  many  years  of  observation  to  acquire  can  be  at  once  con- 
ferred by  the  slap  of  the  flat  of  a  sword,  and  the  magic 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  491 

words,  "  Rise  up.  Sir  Arthur,"  or  however  the  case  may 
be." 

"Doubt  not,  sir  archer,"  replied  Bertram,  **that  I  am 
fullj  aware  of  the  advantage  to  be  derived  from  conversing 
with  men  of  experience  like  you  :  it  benefiteth  men  of  every 
persuasion,  and  I  myself  am  oft  reduced  to  lament  my  want 
of  sufficient  knowledge  of  armorial  bearings,  signs,  and 
cognizances,  and  would  right  fain  have  thy  assistance,  where 
I  am  a  stranger  alike  to  the  names  of  places,  and  persons  and 
description  of  banners  and  emblems  by  which  great  families 
are  distinguished  from  eacli  other,  so  absolutely  necessary  to 
the  accomplishment  of  my  present  task." 

"Pennons  and  banners,"  answered  the  archer,  "I  have 
seen  right  many,  and  can  assign,  as  is  a  soldier's  wont,  the 
name  of  the  leader  to  the  emblem  under  which  he  musters 
his  followers  ;  nevertheless,  worthy  minstrel,  I  cannot  pre- 
sume to  understand  what  you  call  prophecies,  with  or  under 
warranted  authority  of  old  painted  books,  expositions  of 
dreams,  oracles,  revelations,  invocations  of  damned  spirits, 
Judicials,  astrologicals,  and  other  gross  and  palpable  offenses, 
whereby  men,  pretending  to  have  the  assistance  of  the  Devil, 
do  impose  upon  the  common  people,  in  spite  of  the  warnings 
of  the  privy  council ;  not,  however,  that  I  suspect  you, 
worthy  minstrel,  of  busying  yourself  with  tliese  attempts  to 
explain  futurity,  which  are  dangerous  attempts,  and  may  be 
truly  said  to  be  penal,  and  part  of  tx-eason." 

"  There  is  something  in  what  you  say,"  replied  the 
minstrel  ;  "  yet  it  applieth  not  to  books  and  manuscripts 
such  as  I  have  been  consulting  ;  part  of  which  things,  therein 
written,  having  already  come  to  pass  authorize  us  surely  to 
expect  the  completion  of  the  rest ;  nor  would  I  have  much 
difficulty  in  showing  you  from  this  volume  that  enough 
has  been  already  proved  true  to  entitle  us  to  look  with  cer- 
tainty to  the  accomplishment  of  that  which  remains." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  that,"  answered  the  archer,  who 
entertained  little  more  than  a  soldier's  belief  respecting  proph- 
ecies and  auguries,  but  yet  cared  not  bluntly  to  contradict 
the  minstrel  upon  such  subjects,  as  he  had  been  instructed 
by  Sir  John  de  Walton  to  comply  with  his  humor. 

Accordingly  the  minstrel  began  to  recite  verses  which,  in 
our  time,  the  ablest  interpreter  could  not  make  sense  out  of, 

"  When  the  cock  crows,  keep  well  his  comb. 
For  the  fox  and  the  fvilmai't  they  are  false  both. 
When  the  raven  and  the  rook  have  rounded  together, 
And  the  kid  in  his  cliff  shall  accord  to  the  same. 


492  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

Then  shall  they  be  bold,  and  soon  to  battle  thereafter. 

Then  the  birds  of  the  raven  rugs  and  reives. 

And  the  leal  men  of  Lothian  are  louping  on  their  horse ; 

Then  shall  the  poor  people  be  spoiled  full  near, 

And  the  abbeys  be  bunit  truly  that  stand  upon  Tweed  ; 

They  shall  burn  and  slay,  and  great  reif  make  ; 

There  shall  no  poor  man  who  say  whose  man  he  is  : 

Then  shall  the  land  be  lawless,  for  love  there  is  none. 

Then  falset  shall  have  foot  fully  five  years  ; 

Then  truth  surely  shall  be  tint,  and  none  shall  lippen  to  other  ; 

The  one  cousin g  shall  not  ti-ust  the  other, 

Not  the  son  the  father,  nor  the  father  the  son  : 

For  to  have  his  goods  he  would  have  him  hanged." 

The  archer  listened  to  these  mystic  prognostications, 
which  were  not  the  less  wearisome  that  they  were,  in  a  con- 
siderable degree,  unintelligible  :  at  the  same  time  subduing 
his  Hotspur-like  disposition  to  tire  of  the  recitation,  yet  at 
brief  intervals  comforting  himself  with  an  application  to 
the  wine  flagon,  and  enduring  as  he  might  what  he  neither 
understood  nor  took  interest  in.  Meanwhile  the  minstrel 
proceeded  with  his  explanation  of  the  dubious  and  imper- 
fect vaticinations  of  which  we  have  given  a  sufficient  speci- 
men. 

"  Could  you  wish,"  said  he  to  Greenleaf,  "a  more  exact 
description  of  the  miseries  Avhich  have  passed  over  Scotland 
in  these  latter  days  ?  Have  not  these  the  raven  and  rook, 
the  fox  and  the  fulmart,  explained  ;  either  because  the  na- 
ture of  the  birds  or  beasts  bear  an  individual  resemblance 
to  those  of  the  knights  who  display  them  on  their  banners, 
or  otherwise  are  bodied  forth  by  actual  blazonry  on  their 
shields,  and  come  openly  into  the  field  to  ravage  and  de- 
stroy ?  Is  not  the  total  disunion  of  the  land  plainly  in- 
dicated by  these  words,  that  connections  of  blood  shall  be 
broken  asunder,  that  kinsmen  shall  not  trust  each  other, 
and  that  the  father  and  son,  instead  of  putting  faith  in  their 
natural  connection,  shall  seek  each  other's  life,  in  order  to 
enjoy  his  inheritance  ?  The  leal  men  of  Lothian  are  dis- 
tinctly mentioned  as  taking  arms,  and  there  is  plainly  allu- 
sion to  the  other  events  of  these  late  Scottish  troubles.  The 
death  of  this  last  William  is  obscurely  intimated  under  the 
type  of  a  hound,  which  was  that  good  lord's  occasional  cog- 
nizance. 

The  hound  that  was  harmed  then  muzzled  shall  be, 
Who  loved  him  worst  shall  weep  for  his  wreck  ; 
Yet  shall  a  whelp  rise  of  the  same  race, 
Thati  rudely  shall  roar,  and  rule  the  whole  north, 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  493 

And  quit  the  whole  quarrel  of  old  deeds  done. 
Though  he  from  his  hold  be  kept  back  a  while. 
True  Tliomas  told  me  tliis  in  a  troublesome  time, 
In  a  harvest  morning  at  Eldoun  Hills. 

This  hath  a  meaning,  sir  archer,"  continued  the  minstrel, 
"  and  which  flies  as  directly  to  its  mark  as  one  of  your  own 
arrows,  althougli  there  may  be  some  want  of  wisdom  in 
making  the  direct  explication.  Being,  however,  upon  as- 
surance with  you,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  tell  you  that  in  my 
opinion  this  lion's  whelp  that  waits  its  time  means  this  same 
celebrated  Scottish  prince,  Robert  the  Bruce,  who,  though 
repeatedly  defeated,  has  still,  while  hunted  with  blood- 
hounds and  surrounded  by  enemies  of  every  sort,  main- 
tained his  pretensions  to  the  crown  of  Scotland  in  despite  of 
King  Edward,  now  reigning," 

"  Minstrel,"  answered  the  soldier,  "  you  are  my  gaest, 
and  we  have  sat  down  together  as  friends  to  thif  simple 
meal  in  good  comradeship.  I  must  tell  thee,  however, 
thougii  I  am  loth  to  disturb  our  harmony,  that  thou  art  the 
first  who  hast  adventured  to  speak  a  word  before  Gilbert 
Greenleaf  in  favor  of  that  outlawed  traitor,  Robert  Bruce, 
who  has  by  his  seditions  so  long  disturbed  the  peace  of  this 
realm.  Take  my  advice,  and  be  silent  on  this  topic  ;  for, 
believe  me,  the  sword  of  a  true  English  archer  will  spring 
from  its  scabbard  without  consent  of  its  master  should  it 
hear  aught  said  to  the  disparagement  of  bonny  St.  George 
and  his  ruddy  cross  ;  nor  shall  the  autliority  of  Thomas  the 
Rhymer,  or  any  other  prophet  in  Scotland,  England,  or 
AYales,  be  considered  as  an  apology  for  such  unbecoming 
predictions." 

"  I  were  loth  to  give  offense  at  any  time,"  said  the  min- 
strel, ''much  more  to  provoke  you  to  anger,  when  I  am  in 
the  very  act  of  experiencing  your  hospitality.  I  trust,  how- 
ever, you  will  remember  that  I  do  not  come  your  uninvited 
guest,  and  that,  if  I  speak  to  you  of  future  events,  I  do  so 
without  having  the  least  intention  to  add  my.  endeavor  to 
bring  them  to  pass  ;  for,  God  knows,  it  is  many  years  since 
my  sincere  prayer  has  been  for  peace  and  happiness  to  all 
men,  and  particularly  honor  and  happiness  to  the  land  of 
bowmen,  in  which  I  was  born,  and  which  I  am  bound  to  re- 
member in  my  prayers  beyond  all  other  nations  in  the 
world." 

"It  is  well  that  you  do  so,"  said  the  archer  ;  " for  so  you 
shall  best  maintain  your  bounden  duty  to  the  fair  land  of 
your  birth,  which  is  the  richest  that  the  sun  shines  upon. 


494  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Something,  however,  I  would  know,  if  it  suits  with  your 
pleasure  to  tell  me,  and  tliat  is,  whether  you  find  anything 
in  these  rude  rhymes  appearing  to  affect  the  safety  of  the 
Castle  of  Douglas,  where  we  now  are  ?  for,  mark  me,  sir 
minstrel,  I  have  observed  that  tliese  mouldering  parcli- 
ments,  when  or  by  whomsoever  composed,  have  so  far  a  cer- 
tain coincidence  with  the  truth,  that  when  such  predictions 
which  they  contain  are  spread  abroad  in  the  country,  and 
create  rumors  of  plots,  conspiracies,  and  bloody  wars,  they 
are  very  apt  to  cause  the  very  mischances  which  they  would 
be  thought  only  to  predict." 

"  It  were  not  very  cautious  in  me,"  said  the  minstrel,  "  to 
choose  a  prophecy  for  my  theme  which  had  reference  to  any 
attack  on  this  garrison  ;  for  in  such  case  I  should,  accord- 
ing to  your  ideas,  lay  myself  under  suspicion  of  endeavoring 
to  forward  what  no  person  could  more  heartily  regret  than 
myself," 

"  Take  my  word  for  it,  good  friend,"  said  the  archer, 
"  that  it  shall  not  be  thus  with  thee  ;  for  I  neither  will  my- 
self conceive  ill  of  thee  nor  report  thee  to  Sir  John  de  Wal- 
ton as  meditating  harm  against  him  or  his  garrison  ;  nor,  to 
speak  truth,  would  Sir  John  de  Walton  be  willing  to  believe 
any  one  who  did.  He  thinks  highly,  and  no  doubt  deservedly, 
of  thy  good  faith  towards  thy  lady,  and  would  conceive  it 
unjust  to  suspect  the  fidelity  of  one  who  had  given  evidence 
of  his  Vv'illingnsss  to  meet  death  rather  than  betray  the  least 
secret  of  his  mistress." 

"  In  preserving  her  secret,"  said  Bertram,  "  I  only  dis- 
charged the  duty  of  a  faithful  servant,  leaving  it  to  her  to 
judge  how  long  such  a  secret  ought  to  be  preserved  ;  for  a 
faithful  servant  ought  to  think  as  little  of  the  issue  towards 
himself  of  the  commission  which  he  bears  as  the  band  of 
flock-silk  concerns  itself  with  the  secret  of  the  letter  which 
it  secures.  And  touching  your  question,  I  have  no  objec- 
tions, although  merely  to  satisfy  your  curiosity,  to  unfold  to 
you  that  these  old  prophecies  do  contain  some  intimations 
of  wars  befalling  in  Douglas  Dale  between  an  haggard,  or 
wild  hawk,  which  I  take  to  be  the  cognizance  of  Sir  John  de 
Walton,  and  the  three  stars,  or  marlets,  which  is  the  cog- 
nizance of  the  Douglas  ;  and  more  particulars  I  could  tell 
of  these  onslaughts,  did  I  know  whereabouts  is  a  place  in 
these  woods  termed  Bloody  Sykes,  the  scene  also,  as  I  com- 
prehend, of  slaughter  and  death  between  the  followers  of  the 
three  stars  and  those  who  hold  the  part  of  the  Saxon,  or  King 
of  England." 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  495 

"Such  a  place,"  replied  Gilbert  Greenleaf,  "I  have  heard 
often  mentioned  by  that  name  among  the  natives  of  these 
parts  ;  nevertheless,  it  is  in  vain  to  seek  to  discover  the  pre- 
cise spot,  as  these  wily  Scots  conceal  from  us  with  care  every- 
thing respecting  the  geography  of  their  country,  as  it  is  called 
by  learned  men  ;  but  we  may  here  mention  tlie  Bloody  Sykes, 
Bottomless  Myre,  and  other  jDlaces  as  portentous  names,  to 
which  their  traditions  attach  some  signification  of  war  and 
slaughter.  If  it  suits  your  wish,  however,  we  can,  on  our 
way  to  the  church,  try  to  find  this  place  called  Bloody 
Sykes,  which  I  doubt  not  we  shall  trace  out  long  before  the 
traitors  who  meditate  an  attack  upon  us  will  find  a  power 
sufficient  for  the  attempt." 

Accordingly,  the  minstrel  and  archer,  the  latter  of  whom 
was  by  this  time  resonably  Avell  refreshed  with  wine,  marched 
out  of  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  without  waiting  for  others  of 
the  garrison,  resolving  to  seek  the  dingle  bearing  the  om- 
inous name  of  Bloody  Sykes,  concerning  which  the  archer 
only  knew  that  by  mere  accident  he  had  heard  of  a  place 
bearing  such  a  name,  at  the  hunting-match  made  under  the 
auspices  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  knew  that  it  lay  in  the 
woods  somewhere  near  the  town  of  Douglas,  and  in  the 
yicinage  of  the  castle. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Hotspur.    I  cannot  choose  ;  sometimes  he  angers  me 
With  telling  me  of  the  moldwarp  and  the  ant, 
Of  the  dreamer  Merlin,  and  his  prophecies, 
And  of  a  dragon  and  a  finless  fish, 
A  clipt-wing'd  griffin  and  a  moulten  raven, 
A  couching  lion,  and  a  ramping  cat, 
And  such  a  deal  of  skimble-skamble  stuff 
As  puts  me  from  my  faith. 

King  Henry  TV. 

The  conversation  between  the  minstrel  and  the  ancient 
archer  naturally  pursued  a  train  somewhat  resembling  that 
of  Hotspur  and  Glendower,  in  which  Gilbert  Greenleaf  by 
degrees  took  a  larger  share  than  was  apparently  consistent 
with  his  habits  and  education  ;  but  the  truth  was  that,  as  he 
exerted  himself  to  recall  the  recognizances  of  military  chief- 
tains, their  war-cries,  emblems,  and  other  types  by  which  they 
distinguished  themselves  in  battle,  and  might  undoubtedly 
be  indicated  in  prophetic  rhymes,  he  began  to  experience 
the  pleasure  which  most  men  entertain  when  they  find  them- 
selves unexpectedly  jDossessed  of  a  faculty  which  the  moment 
calls  upon  them  to  employ,  and  renders  them  important  in 
the  possession  of.  The  minstrel's  sound  good  sense  was  cer- 
tainly somewhat  surprised  at  the  inconsistencies  sometimes 
displayed  by  his  companion,  as  he  was  carried  off  by  the 
willingness  to  make  show  of  his  newly-discovered  faculty  on 
the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  to  call  to  mind  the  prejudices 
which  he  had  nourished  during  his  whole  life  against  min- 
strels, who  with  the  whole  train  of  legends  and  fables,  were 
the  more  likely  to  be  false,  as  being  generally  derived  from 
the  "North  Countrie." 

As  they  strolled  from  one  glade  of  the  forest  to  another, 
the  minstrel  began  to  be  surprised  at  the  number  of  Scottish 
votaries  whom  they  met,  and  who  seemed  to  be  hastening  to 
the  church,  and,  as  it  appeared  by  the  boughs  which  they 
carried,  to  assist  in  the  ceremony  of  the  day.  To  each  of 
these  the  archer  put  a  question  respecting  the  existence  of 
a  place  called  Bloody  Sykes,  and  where  it  was  to  be  found  ; 
but  all  seemed  either  tobe  ignorant  on  the  subject  or  desirous 
'"  496 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  497 

of  evading  it,  for  which  they  found  some  pretext  in  thejoily 
archer's  manner  of  interrogation,  which  savored  a  good  deal 
of  the  genial  breakfast.  The  general  answer  was,  that  they 
knew  no  such  place,  or  had  other  matters  to  attend  to  upon 
the  morn  of  a  holy-tide  than  answering  frivolous  questions. 
At  last,  when,  in  one  or  two  instances,  the  answer  of  the 
Scottish  almost  approached  to  sullenness,  the  minstrel  re- 
marked it,  observing,  that  there  was  ever  some  mischief  on 
foot  when  the  people  of  this  country  could  not  find  a  civil 
answer  to  their  betters,  which  is  usually  so  ready  among  them, 
and  that  they  appeared  to  be  making  a  strong  muster  for  the 
service  of  Palm  Sunday. 

"  You  will  doubtless,  sir  archer,"  continued  the  minstrel, 
"  make  your  report  to  your  knight  accordingly  ;  for  I  promise 
you  that,  if  you  do  not,  I  myself,  whose  lady's  freedom  is 
also  concerned,  will  feel  it  my  duty  to  place  before  Sir  John 
de  Walton  the  circumstances  which  make  me  ente.-tain  sus- 
picion of  this  extraordinary  confluence  of  Scottish  men,  and 
the  surliness  which  has  replaced  their  wonted  courtesy  of 
manners," 

"  Tush,  sir  minstrel,"  replied  the  archer,  displeased  at 
Bertram's  interference,  "  believe  me,  that  armies  have  ere 
now  depended  on  my  report  to  the  general,  which  has  always 
been  perspicuous  and  clear,  according  to  the  duties  of  war. 
Your  walk,  my  worthy  friend,  has  been  in  a  separate  depart- 
ment, such  as  affairs  of  peace,  old  songs,  prophecies,  and  the 
like,  in  which  it  is  far  from  my  thoughts  to  contend  with 
you  ;  but  credit  me,  it  will  be  most  for  the  reputation  of  both 
that  we  do  not  attempt  to  interfere  with  what  concerns  each 
other." 

"  It  is  far  from  my  wish  to  do  so,"  replied  the  minstrel  ; 
"  but  I  would  wish  that  a  speedy  return  should  be  made  to 
the  castle,  in  order  to  ask  Sir  John  de  Walton's  opinion  of 
that  which  we  have  but  just  seen." 

"To  this,"  replied  Greenleaf,  "  there  can  be  no  objection  ; 
but,  would  you  seek  the  governor  at  the  hour  which  now  is, 
you  will  find  him  most  readily  by  going  to  the  church  of 
Douglas,  to  which  he  regularly  wends  on  occasions  such  as 
the  present,  with  the  principal  part  of  his  officers,  to  ensure 
by  his  presence  that  no  tumult  arise — of  which  there  is  no 
little  dread — between  the  English  and  the  Scottish,  Let  us 
therefore  hold  to  our  original  intention  of  attending  the  ser- 
vice of  the  day,  and  we  shall  rid  ourselves  of  these  entangled 
woods,  and  gain  the  shortest  road  to  the  church  of  Douglas," 

"  Let  us  go  then  with  all  despatch,"  said  the  minstrel  j 
32 


498  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  and  with  tlie  greater  haste,  that  it  appears  to  me  that 
something  has  passed  on  this  very  spot  tliis  morning  which 
argues  that  the  Christian  peace  due  to  the  day  has  not  been 
inviohibly  observed.  What  mean  these  drops  of  blood  ? " 
alluding  to  those  which  had  flowed  from  the  wounds  of  Turn- 
bull.  Wherefore  is  the  earth  impressed  with  these  deep 
dints,  the  footsteps  of  armed  men  advancing  and  retreating, 
doubtless,  according  to  the  chances  of  a  fierce  and  heady 
conflict  ?  " 

"  By  Our  Lady,"  returned  Greenleaf,  "I  must  own  that 
thou  seest  clear.  What  were  my  eyes  made  of  when  they 
permitted  thee  to  be  the  first  discoverer  of  these  signs  of 
conflict  ?  Here  are  feathers  of  a  blue  plume,  which  I  ought 
to  remember,  seeing  my  knight  assumed  it,  or  at  least  per- 
mitted me  to  place  it  in  his  helmet,  this  morning,  in  sign  of 
returning  hope,  from  the  liveliness  of  its  color.  But  here  it 
lies,  shorn  from  his  head,  and,  if  I  may  guess,  by  no  friendly 
hand.  Come,  friend,  to  the  church — to  the  church,  and  thou 
shalt  have  my  example  of  the  manner  in  which  De  Walton 
ought  to  be  supported  Avhen  in  danger." 

He  led  the  way  through  the  town  of  Douglas,  entering  at 
the  southern  gate,  and  up  the  very  street  in  which  Sir  Aymer 
de  Valence  had  charged  the  Phantom  Knight. 

We  can  now  say  more  fully  that  the  church  of  Douglas 
had  originally  been  a  stately  Gothic  building,  whose  towers, 
arising  high  above  the  walls  of  the  town,  bore  witness  to  the 
grandeur  of  its  original  construction.  It  w^as  now  partly 
ruinous,  and  the  small  portion  of  open  space  which  was  re- 
tained for  public  worship  was  fitted  up  in  the  family  aisle, 
where  its  deceased  lords  rested  from  worldly  labors  and  the 
strife  of  war.  From  the  open  ground  in  the  front  of  the 
building  their  eyes  could  pursue  a  considerable  part  of  the 
course  of  the  river  Douglas,  vv^hich  approached  the  town  from 
the  southwest,  bordered  by  a  line  of  hills  fantastically  diversi- 
fied in  their  appearance,  and  in  many  places  covered  with  copse- 
wood,  which  descended  towards  the  valley,  and  formed  a  part 
of  the  tangled  and  intricate  woodland  by  which  the  town  was 
surrounded.  The  river  itself,  sweeping  round  the  west  side 
of  the  town,  and  from  thence  northward,  supplied  that  large 
inundation  or  artificial  piece  of  water  which  we  have  already 
mentioned.  Several  of  the  Scottish  people,  bearing  willow 
branches,  or  those  of  yew,  to  represent  the  palms  wliicli 
were  the  symbol  of  the  day,  seemed  wandering  in  the  church- 
yard as  if  to  attend  the  approach  of  some  person  of  peculiar 
/  sanctity,  or  procession  of  monks  and  friars,  come  to  render 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  499 

the  homage  dne  to  tlie  solemnity.  At  the  moment  almost 
that  Bertram  and  his  companion  entered  the  churchj^ard, 
the  Lady  of  Berkely,  who  was  in  the  act  of  following  Sir 
John  de" Walton  into  the  church,  after  having  witnessed  his 
conflict  with  the  young  knight  of  Douglas,  caught  a  glimpse 
of  her  faithful  minstrel,  and  instantly  determined  to  regain 
the  company  of  that  old  servant  of  her  house  and  conhdant 
of  her  fortunes,  and  trust  to  the  chance  afterwards  of  being 
rejoined  by  Sir  John  de  Walton,  with  a  sufficient  party  to 
provide  for  her  safety,  which  she  in  no  respect  doubted  it 
would  be  his  care  to  collect.  She  darted  away  accordingly 
from  the  path  in  which  she  was  advancing,  and  reached  the 
place  where  Bertram,  with  his  new  acquaintance  Greenleaf, 
were  making  some  inquiries  of  the  soldiers  of  the  English 
garrison,  whom  the  service  of  the  day  had  brought  there. 

Lady  Augusta  Berkely,  in  the  mean  time,  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  say  privately  to  her  faithful  attendant  and  guide, 
"Take  no  notice  of  me,  friend  Bertram,  but  take  heed,  if 
possible,  that  we  be  not  again  separated  from  each  other." 
Having  given  him  this  hint,  she  observed  that  it  was  adopted 
by  the  minstrel,  and  that  he  presently  afterwards  looked 
round  and  set  his  eyes  upon  her,  as,  muffled  in  her  pilgrim's 
cloak,  she  slowly  withdrew  to  another  part  of  the  cemetery, 
and  seemed  to  halt  until,  detaching  himself  from  Greenleaf, 
he  should  find  an  opportunity  of  joining  her. 

Nothing,  in  truth,  could  have  more  sensibly  affected  the 
faithful  minstrel  than  the  singular  mode  of  communication 
which  acquainted  him  that  his  mistress  was  safe,  and  at 
liberty  to  choose  her  own  motions,  and,  as  he  might  hope,, 
disposed  to  extricate  herself  from  the  dangers  which  sur- 
rounded her  in  Scotland,  by  an  immediate  retreat  to  her  own 
country  and  domain.  He  would  gladly  have  approached 
and  joined  her,  but  she  took  an  opporUinity  by  a  sign  to 
caution  him  against  doing  so,  while  at  the  same  time  he  re- 
mained somewhat  apprehensive  of  the  consequences  of 
bringing  her  under  the  notice  of  his  new  friend,  Greenleaf, 
who  might  perhaps  think  it  proper  to  busy  himself  so  as  to 
gain  some  favor  with  the  knight  who  was  at  the  head  of  the 
garrison.  Mean  time  the  old  archer  continued  his  conversa- 
tion with  Bertram,  while  the  minstrel,  like  many  other  men 
similarly  situated,  heartily  wished  that  his  well-meaning 
companion  had  been  a  hundi'ed  fathoms  under  ground,  so 
his  evanishment  h.ad  given  him  license  to  join  his  mistress  ; 
hut  all  he  had  in  his  power  was  to  approach  her  as  near  as 
he  could  without  creating  any  suspicion. 


500  WA  VEBLEY  NOVELS 

"  I  would  pray  you,  worthy  minstrel,''  said  Greenleaf,  aftei 
looking  carefully  round,  "  that  we  may  prosecute  together 
the  theme  which  we  were  agitating  before  we  came  hither  : 
is  it  not  your  opinion  that  the  Scottish  natives  have  fixed  this 
very  morning  for  some  of  those  dangerous  attempts  which 
they  have  repeatedly  made,and  which  are  so  carefully  guarded 
against  by  the  governors  placed  in  this  district  of  Douglas  by 
our  good  King  Edward,  our  riglitful  sovereign  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  see,"  replied  the  minstrel,  "on  what  grounds 
you  found  such  an  apprehension,  or  what  you  see  here  in  the 
the  churchyard  different  from  that  you  talked  of  as  we  ap- 
proached it,  when  you  held  me  rather  in  scorn  for  giving 
way  to  some  suspicions  of  the  same  kind." 

"Do  you  not  see,"  added  the  arclier,  *'the  numbers  of 
men  with  strange  faces,  and  in  various  disguisements,  who 
are  thronging  about  these  ancient  ruins,  which  are  usually 
BO  solitary  ?  Yonder,  for  example,  sits  a  boy,  who  seems  to 
shun  observation,  and  whose  dress,  I  will  be  sworn,  has  never 
been  shaped  in  Scotland." 

"  And  if  1ie  is  an  English  pilgrim,"  replied  the  minstrel, 
observing  that  the  archer  pointed  towards  the  Lady  of 
Berkely,  "  he  surely  affords  less  matter  of  suspicion." 

"I  know  not  that,"  said  old  Greenleaf,  "but  I  think  it 
will  be  my  duty  to  inform  Sir  John  de  AValton,  if  I  can  reach 
him,  that"^  there  are  many  persons  here  who  in  outward  ap- 
pearance neither  belong  to  the  garrison  nor  to  this  part  of 
the  country." 

"  Consider,"  said  Bertram,  "  before  you  harass  with  ac- 
cusation a  poor  young,  man,  and  subject  him  to  the  conse- 
quences which  must  necessarily  attend  upon  suspicions  of 
this  nature,  how  many  circumstances  call  forth  men  pecul- 
iarly to  devotion  at  this  period.  Not  only  is  this  the  time  of 
the  triumphal  entrance  of  the  Founder  of  the  Christian  re- 
ligion into  Jerusalem,  but  the  day  itself  is  called  Dominica 
Confitentium,  or  the  Sunday  of  Confessors,  and  the  palm- 
tree,  or  the  box  and  yew,  which  are  used  as  its  substitutes, 
and  which  are  distributed  to  the  priests,  are  burnt  solemnly 
to  ashes,  and  those  ashes  distributed  among  the  pious  by  the 
priests  upon  the  Ash  Wednesday  of  the  succeeding  year— all 
which  rites  and  ceremonies  in  our  country  are  observed  by 
order  of  the  Christian  Church  ;  nor  ought  you,  gentle  archer, 
nor  can  you  without  a  crime,  persecute  those  as  guilty  of 
designs  upon  your  garrison  who  can  ascribe  their  presence 
here  to  their  desire  to  discharge  the  duties  of  the  day  ;  and 
look  ye  at  yon  numerous  procession  approaching  with  bannei 


CA STLE  DA  XGSROUS  501 

and  cross,  and,  as  it  apjiears.  consisting  of  some  churchman 
of  rank  and  his  attendants  ;  let  us  first  inquire  who  he  is, 
and  it  is  probable  we  shall  find  in  his  name  and  rank  suffi- 
cient security  for  the  peaceable  and  orderly  behavior  of  those 
whom  piety  has  this  day  assembled  at  the  church  of  Doug- 
las." 

Greenleaf  accordingly  made  the  investigation  recommended 
by  his  companion,  and  received  information  that  the  holy 
man  who  headed  the  procession  was  no  other  than  the  dio- 
cesan of  the  district,  the  Bishop  of  Glasgow,  who  had  come 
to  give  his  countenance  to  the  rites  with  which  the  day  was 
to  be  sanctified. 

The  prelate  accordingly  entered  the  walls  of  the  dilapidated 
churchyard,  preceded  by  his  cross-bearers,  and  attended  by 
numbers,  with  boughs  of  yew  and  other  evergreens,  used  on 
tlie  festivity  instead  of  palms.  Among  them  the  holy  father 
showered  his  blessing,  accompanied  by  signs  of  th*^-  cross, 
which  were  met  with  devout  exclamations  by  such  of  the  wor- 
shipers as  crowded  around  him — ''To  thee,  reverend  father, 
we  apply  for  pardon  for  our  offenses,  which  we  humbly  desire 
to  confess  to  thee,  in  order  that  we  may  obtain  pardon  from 
Heaven.*' 

In  this  manner  the  congregation  and  the  dignified  clergy- 
man met  together,  exchanging  pious  greetings,  and  seemingly 
intent  upon  nothing  but  the  rites  of  the  day.  The  acclama- 
tions of  the  congregation  mingled  with  the  deep  voice  of  the 
officiating  priest,  dispensing  the  sacred  ritual,  the  whole  form- 
ing a  scene  which,  conducted  with  the  Catholic  skill  and 
ceremonial,  was  at  once  imposing  and  aft'ecting. 

The  archer,  on  seeing  the  zeal  with  which  the  peoi^le  in  the 
churchyard,  as  well  as  a  number  who  issued  from  the  church, 
hastened  proudly  to  salute  the  bishop  of  the  diocese,  was  rather 
ashamed  of  the"  suspicions  which  he  had  entertained  of  the 
sincerity  of  the  good  man's  purpose  in  coming  hither.  Tak- 
ing advantage  of  a  fit  of  devotion,  not  perhaps  very  common 
with  old  Greenleaf,  who  at  this  moment  thrust  himself  forward 
to  share  in  those  spiritual  advantages  which  the  prelate  was 
dispensing,  Bertram  slipped  clear  of  his  English  friend,  and, 
gliding  to  the  side  of  the  Lady  Augusta,  exchanged,  by  the 
pressure  of  the  hand,  a  mutual  congratulation  upon  having 
rejoined  company.  On  a  sign  by  the  minstrel,  they  withdrew 
to'  the  inside  of  the  church,  so  as  to  remain  unobserved  amidst 
the  crowd,  in  which  they  were  favored  by  the  dark  shadows 
of  some  parts  of  the  building. 

The  body  of  the  church,  broken  as  it  was,  and  hung  round 


m  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

with  the  armorial  trophies  of  the  last  Lords  of  Douglas,  fur- 
iiished  rather  the  appearance  of  a  sacrilegiously  desecrated 
ruiu  than  the  inside  of  a  holy  place  ;  yet  some  care  appeared 
to  have  been  taken  to  prepare  it  for  the  service  of  the  day. 
At  the  lower  end  hung  the  great  escutcheon  of  William  Lord 
of  Douglas,who  had  lately  died  a  prisoner  in  England  ;  around 
that  escutcheon  were  ])laced  the  smaller  shields  of  his  sixteen 
ancestors,  and  a  deep  black  shadow  was  diffused  by  the  whole 
mass,  unless  where  relieved  by  the  glance  of  the  coronets  or 
the  glimmer  of  bearings  particularly  gay  m  emblazonry.  I 
need  not  say  that  in  other  respects  the  interior  of  the  church 
was  much  dismantled  ;  it  being  the  very  same  place  in  which 
Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  held  an  interview  with  the  old  sexton, 
and  who  now,  drawing  into  a  separate  corner  some  of  the 
straggling  parties  wliom  he  had  collected  and  brought  to  the 
church,  kept  on  the  alert,  and  appeared  ready  for  an  attack 
as  well  at  midday  as  at  the  witching  hour  of  midnight.  This 
was  the  more  necessary,  as  the  eye  of  Sir  John  de  Walton 
seemed  busied  in  searching  from  one  place  to  another,  as  if 
unable  to  find  the  object  he  was  in  quest  of,  which  the  reader 
will  easily  understand  to  be  the  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely, 
of  whom  he  had  lost  sight  in  the  pressure  of  the  multitude. 
At  the  eastern  part  of  the  church  was  fitted  up  a  temporary 
altar,  by  the  side  of  Avhich,  arrayed  in  his  robes,  the  bishop 
of  Glasgow  had  taken  his  place,  with  such  priests  and  atten- 
dants as  composed  his  episcopal  retinue.  His  suite  was  neither 
numerous  nor  richly  attired,  nor  did  his  own  appearance 
present  a  splendid  specimen  of  the  wealth  and  dignity  of  the 
episcopal  order.  When  he  laid  down,  however,  his  golden 
cross,  at  the  stern  command  of  the  King  of  England,  that  of 
simple  wood,  which  he  assumed,  instead  thereof,  did  not 
possess  less  authority  nor  command  less  awe  among  the  clergy 
and  people  of  the  diocese. 

The  various  persons,  natives  of  Scotland,  now  gathered 
around  seemed  to  watch  his  motions,  as  those  of  a  descended 
saint,  and  the  English  waited  in  mute  astonishment,  appre- 
hensive that  at  some  unexpected  signal  an  attack  would  be 
made  upon  them, either  by  the  powers  of  earth  or  heaven,  or 
perhaps  by  both  in  combination.  The  truth  is,  that  so  great 
was  the  devotion  of  the  Scottish  clergy  of  the  higher  ranks 
to  the  interests  of  the  party  of  Bruce,  that  the  English  had 
become  jealous  of  permitting  them  to  interfere  even  with 
those  ceremonies  of  the  church  which  were  placed  under 
their  proper  management,  and  thence  the  presence  of  the 
Bishop  of  Glasgow,  officiating  at  a  high  festival  in  the  church 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  503 

of  Douglas,  was  a  circumstance  of  rare  occurrence,  and  not 
unattended  both  with  wonder  and  suspicion.  A  council  of 
the  church,  however,  had  lately  called  the  distinguished  pre- 
lates of  Scotland  to  the  discharge  of  their  duty  on  the  fes- 
tivity of  Palm  Sunday,  and  neither  English  nor  Scottish  saw 
the  ceremony  with  indifference.  An  unwonted  silence  which 
prevailed  in  the  church,  filled,  as  it  appeared,  with  persons 
of  different  views,  hopes,  wishes,  and  expectations,  resembled 
one  of  those  solemn  pauses  which  often  take  place  before  a 
strife  of  the  elements,  and  are  well  understood  to  be  the 
forerunners  of  some  dreadful  concussion  of  nature.  All 
animals,  according  to  their  various  nature,  express  their 
sense  of  the  approaching  tempest :  the  cattle,  the  deer,  and 
other  inhabitants  of  the  walks  of  the  forest,  withdraw  to  the 
inmost  recesses  of  their  pastures  ;  the  sheep  crowd  into  their 
fold  ;  and  the  dull  stupor  of  universal  nature,  whether  ani- 
mate or  inanimate,  presages  its  speedily  awaking  into  general 
convulsion  and  disturbance,  when  the  lurid  lightning  shall 
hiss  at  command  of  the  diapason  of  the  thunder. 

It  was  thus  that,  in  deep  suspense,  those  who  had  come  to 
the  church  in  arms  at  the  summons  of  Douglas  awaited  and 
expected  every  moment  a  signal  to  attack  ;  while  the  soldiers 
of  the  English  garrison,  aware  of  the  evil  disposition  of 
the  natives  towards  them,  were  reckoning  every  moment 
when  tlie  well-known  shouts  of  "  Bows  and  bills  \"  should 
give  signal  for  a  general  conflict,  and  both  parties,  gazing 
fiercely  upon  each  other,  seemed  to  expect  the  fatal  onset. 

Notwithstanding  the  tempest,  which  appeared  every  mo- 
ment ready  to  burst,  the  Bishop  of  Glasgow  proceeded  with 
the  utmost  solemnity  to  perform  the  ceremonies  proper  to 
the  day  ;  he  paused  from  time  to  time  to  survey  the  throng, 
as  if  to  calculate  whether  the  turbulent  passions  of  those 
around  him  would  be  so  long  kept  under  as  to  admit  of  his 
duties  being  brought  to  a  close  in  a  manner  becoming  the 
time  and  place. 

The  prelate  had  just  concluded  the  service,  when  a  person 
advanced  towards  him  with  a  solemn  and  mournful  aspect, 
and  asked  if  the  reverend  father  could  devote  a  few  moments 
to  administer  comfort  to  a  dying  man  who  was  lying  wounded 
close  by. 

The  "churchman  signified  a  ready  acquiescence,  amidst  a 
stillness  which,  when  he  surveyed  the  lowering  brows  of  one 
party  at  least  of  those  who  were  in  the  church,  boded  no 
peaceable  termination  to  this  fated  day.  The  father  mo- 
tioned to  the  messenger  to  show  him  the  way,  and  proceeded 


504  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


on  his  mission,  attended  by  some  of  those  who  weie  under- 
stood to  be  followers  of  the  Douglas. 

There  was  something  peculiarly  striking,  if  not  suspicious 
in  the  interview  which  followed.  In  a  subterranean  vaull 
was  deposited  the  person  of  a  large,  tall  mail,  whose  blooc 
flowed  copiously  through  two  or  three  ghastly  wounds,  anc 
streamed  amongst  the  trusses  of  straw  on  which  he  lay  ;  whih 
his  features  exhibited  a  mixture  of  sternness  and  ferocity 
which  seemed  prompt  to  kindle  into  a  still  more  savagf 
expression. 

The  reader  will  probably  conjecture  that  the  person  in 
question  was  no  other  than  Michael  Turnbull,  who,  wounded 
in  the  rencounter  of  the  morning,  had  been  left  by  some  ol 
his  friends  upon  the  straw,  which  was  arranged  for  him  by 
way  of  couch,  to  live  or  die  as  he  best  could.  The  prelate 
on  entering  the  vault,  lost  no  time  in  calling  the  attention 
of  the  wounded  man  to  the  state  of  his  spiritual  affairs,  and 
assisting  him  to  such  comfort  as  the  doctrine  of  the  church 
directed  should  be  administered  to  departing  sinners.  The 
words  exchanged  between  them  were  of  that  grave  and  severe 
character  which  jjasses  between  the  ghostly  father  and  his 
pupil,  when  one  world  is  rolling  away  from  the  view  of  the 
sinner  and  another  is  displaying  itself  in  all  its  terrors,  and 
thundering  in  the  ear  of  the  penitent  that  retribution  which 
the  deeds  done  in  the  flesh  must  needs  prepare  him  to  ex 
pect.  This  is  one  of  the  most  solemn  meetings  which  can 
take  place  between  earthly  beings,  and  the  courageous  char- 
acter of  the  Jedwood  forester,  as  well  as  the  benevolent  and 
pious  expression  of  the  old  churchman,  considerably  en- 
hanced the  pathos  of  the  scene. 

"  Turnbull,"  said  the  churchman,  "  I  trust  you  will  be 
lieve  me  when  I  say  that  it  grieves  my  heart  to  see  thee 
brought  to  this  situation  by  wounds  which,  it  is  my  duty  to 
tell  you,  you  must  consider  mortal." 

"  Is  the  chase  ended  then  ?  "  said  the  Jedwood  man  with  a 
sigh.  "  I  care  not,  good  father,  for  I  think  I  have  borne  me 
as  becomes  a  gallant  quarry,  and  that  the  old  forest  has  lost 
no  credit  by  me,  whether  in  pursuit  or  in  bringing  to  bay  ,: 
and  even  in  this  last  matter,  methinks  this  gay  English 
knight  would  not  have  come  off  with  such  advantage  had  the 
ground  on  which  we  stood  been  alike  indifferent  to  both,  or 
had  I  been  aware  of  his  onset ;  but  it  will  be  seen  by  any 
one  who  takes  the  trouble  to  examine,  that  poor  Michael 
Turnbull's  foot  slipped  twice  in  the  melee,  otherwise  it  had 
not  been  his  fate  to  be  lying  here  in  the  dead-thraw  ;  while 


CASTLE  DAKGEROVS  50j 

yonder  Southron  would  probably  have  died  like  a  dog  upon 

this  bloody  straw  in  his  place." 

The  bishop  replied,  advising  his  penitent  to  turn  from  vin- 
dictive thoughts  respecting  the  death  of  otliers,and  endeavor 
to  fix  his  attention  upon  his  own  departure  from  existence, 
which  seemed  shortly  about  to  take  place. 

"  Nav,"  replied  the  wounded  man,  "  you,  father,  un- 
doubtedly know  best  what  is  fit  for  me  to  do  ;  yet  methiiiks  it 
would  not  be  very  well  with  me  if  I  had  prolonged  to  this 
time  of  day  the  task  of  revising  my  life,  and  I  am  not  the 
man  to  deny  that  mine  has  been  a  bloody  and  a  desperate 
one.  But  you  will  grant  me  I  never  bore  malice  to  a  brave 
enemy  for  having  done  me  an  injury,  and  show  me  the  man. 
being"^  a  Scotchman  born  and  having  a  natural  love  for  his 
own  country,  who  hath  not,  in  these  times,  rather  preferred  a 
steel  cap  to  a  hat  and  feather,  or  who  hath  not  been  more 
conversant  with  drawn  blades  than  with  prayer-book  ;  and  you 
yourself  know,  father,  whether,  in  our  proceedings  against 
the  English  interest,  we  have  not  uniformly  had  the  counte- 
nance of  the  sincere  fathers  of  the  Scottish  Church,  and 
whether  we  have  not  been  exhorted  to  take  arms  and  mak 
use  of  them  for  the  honor  of  the  King  of  Scotland  and  the 
defense  of  our  own  rights." 

"Undoubtedly,"  said  the  prelate,  ''such  have  been  our 
exhortations  towards  our  oppressed  countrymen,  nor  do  I  now 
teach  you  a  different  doctrine  ;  nevertheless,  having  now 
blood  around  me,  and  a  dying  man  before  me,  I  have  need  to 
pray  that  I  have  not  been  misled  from  the  true  i-)ath,  and  thus 
become  the  means  of  misdirecting  others.  May  Heaven  for- 
give me  if  I  have  done  so,  since  I  have  only  to  plead  my  sin- 
cere and  honest  intention  in  excuse  for  the  erroneous  counsel 
which  I  may  have  given  to  you  and  others  touching  these 
wars.  I  am  conscious  that,  encouraging  you  so  to  stain  your 
swords  in  blood,  I  have  departed  in  some  degree  from  the 
character  of  my  profession,  which  enjoins  that  we  neither 
shed  blood  nor  are  the  occasion  of  its  being  shed.  May 
Heaven  enable  us  to  obey  our  duties  and  to  repent  of  our 
errors,  especially  such  as  have  occasioned  the  death  or  dis- 
tress of  our  fellow-creatures  !  And,  above  all,  may  this  dying 
Christian  become  aware  of  his  errors,  and  repent  with  sin- 
cerity of  having  done  to  others  that  which  he  would  not  will- 
ingly have  suffered  at  their  hand  \" 

"For  that  matter,"  answered  Turnbull,  "the  time  has 
never  been  when  I  would  not  exchange  a  blow  with  the  best 
man  who  ever  lived ;  and  if  I  was  not  in  constant  practise  of 


506  iVA  VERLET  NO  VELS 

the  sword,  it  was  because  I  liave  been  brought  i;p  to  the  use 
of  the  Jedwood-ax,  wliich  the  English  call  a  partizan,  and 
which  makes  little  difference,  I  understand,  from  the  sword 
and  poniard." 

"The  distinction  is  not  great,"  said  the  bishop  ;  "but  I 
fear,  my  friend,  that  life  taken  witli  what  you  call  a  Jedwood- 
ax  gives  you  no  privilege  over  him  who  commits  the  same 
deed,  and  inflicts  the  same  injury,  with  any  other  weapon/' 

"Nay,  worthy  father,"  said  the  penitent,  "I  must  own 
that  the  effect  of  the  weapons  is  the  same  as  far  as  concerns 
the  man  who  suffers  ;  but  I  would  pray  of  you  information, 
why  a  Jedwood  man  ought  not  to  use,  as  is  the  custom  of  his 
country,  a  Jedwood-ax,  being,  as  is  implied  in  the  name, 
the  offensive  weapon  proper  to  his  country  ?  " 

"  The  crime  of  murder,"  said  the  bishop,  '''consists  not 
in  the  weapon  with  which  the  crime  is  inflicted,  but  in  the 
pain  which  the  murderer  inflicts  upon  his  fellow-creature, 
and  the  breach  of  good  order  which  he  introduces  into 
Heaven's  lovely  and  peaceable  creation  ;  and  it  is  by  turning 
your  repentance  upon  this  crime  that  you  may  fairly  expect 
to  propitiate  Heaven  for  your  offenses,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  escape  the  consequences  which  are  denounced  in  Holy 
Writ  against  those  by  whom  man's  blood  shall  be  shed." 

''But,  good  father,"  said  the  wounded  man,  "you  know 
as  well  as  any  one  that  in  this  comj)any,  and  in  this  very 
church,  there  are  upon  the  watch  scores  of  both  Scotchmen 
and  Englishmen,  who  come  here  not  so  much  to  discharge 
the  religious  duties  of  the  day  as  literally  to  bereave  each 
other  of  their  lives,  and  give  a  new  example  of  the  horror  of 
those  feuds  which  the  two  extremities  of  Britain  nourish 
against  each  other.  What  conduct,  then,  is  a  poor  man  like 
me  to  hold  ?  Am  I  not  to  raise  this  hand  against  the  English, 
which  methinks  I  still  can  make  a  tolerable  efficient  one  ;  or 
am  I,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  to  hear  the  war-cry  when 
it  is  raised,  and  hold  back  my  sword  from  the  slaughter  ? 
Methinks  it  will  be  difficult,  perhaps  altogether  impossible, 
for  me  to  do  so ;  but  if  such  is  the  pleasure  of  Heaven,  and 
your  advice,  most  reverend  father,  unquestionably  I  must 
do  my  best  to  be  governed  by  your  directions,  as  of  one  who 
has  a  right  and  title  to  direct  us  in  every  dilemma,  or  case, 
as  they  term  it,  of  troubled  conscience." 

"  Unquestionably,"  said  the  bishop,  "  it  is  my.  duty,  as  I 
have  already  said,  to  give  no  occasion  this  day  for  the  shed- 
ding of  blood  or  the  breach  of  peace  ;  and  I  must  charge  you, 
as  my  penitent,  that,  upon  your  soul's  safety,  you  do  not 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  507 

minister  any  occasion  to  affray  or  bloodshed,  either  by  main^ 
taining  such  in  your  own  person  or  inciting  others  to  the 
Bame  ;  for,  by  following  a  diiferent  course  of  advice,  I  am 
certain  that  you,  as  well  as  myself,  would  act  sinfully  and 
out  of  character/' 

"  So  I  will  endeavor  to  think,  reverend  father,"  answered 
the  huntsman  ;  "nevertheless,  I  hope  it  will  be  remembered 
in  my  favor  that  I  am  the  first  person  bearing  the  surname 
of  Turnbull,  together  with  the  proper  name  of  the  Prince  of 
Archangels  himself,  who  has  at  any  time  been  able  to  sustain 
the  affront  occasioned  by  the  presence  of  a  Southron  with  a 
drawn  sword,  and  was  not  thereby  provoked  to  pluck  forth 
his  own  weapon  and  to  lay  about  him," 

'*  Take  care,  my  son,"  returned  the  prelate  of  Glasgow, 
"and  observe  that  even  now  thou  art  departing  from  those 
resolutions  which,  but  a  few  minutes  since,  thou  didst  adopt 
upon  serious  and  just  consideration  ;  wherefore  do  not  be, 
0  my  son  !  like  the  sow  that  has  wallowed  in  the  mire,  and, 
having  been  washed,  repeats  its  act  of  pollution,  and  becomes 
again  yet  fouler  than  it  was  before." 

"  Well,  reverend  father,"  replied  the  wounded  man,  "al- 
though it  seems  almost  unnatural  for  Scottish  men  and 
English  to  meet  and  part  without  a  buffet,  yet  I  will  en- 
deavor most  faithfully  not  to  minister  any  occasion  of  strife, 
nor,  if  possible,  to  snatch  at  any  such  occasion  as  shall  be 
ministered  to  me." 

"  In  doing,  so,"  returned  the  bishop,  "  thou  wilt  best  atone 
for  the  injury  which  thou  hast  done  to  the  law  of  Heaven 
upon  former  occasions,  and  thou  shalt  prevent  the  causes  for 
strife  betwixt  thee  and  thy  brethren  of  the  southern  land, 
and  shalt  eschew  the  temptation  towards  the  bloodguiltiness 
which  is  so  rife  in  this  our  day  and  generation.  And  do  not 
think  that  I  am  imposing  upon  thee,  by  these  admonitions, 
a  duty  more  difficult  than  it  is  in  thy  covenant  to  bear,  as  a 
man  and  as  a  Christian.  I  myself  am  a  man,  and  a  Scotch- 
man, and,  as  such,  I  feel  offended  at  the  unjust  conduct  of 
the  English  towards  our  country  and  sovereign  ;  and  think- 
ing as  you  do  yourself,  I  know  what  you  must  suffer  when 
you  are  obliged  to  submit  to  national  insults,  unretaliated 
and  unrevenged.  But  let  us  not  conceive  ourselves  the  agents 
of  that  retributive  vengeance  which  Heaven  has,  in  a  peculiar 
t5egree,  declared  to  be  its  own  attribute.  Let  us,  while  we 
see  and  feel  the  injuries  inflicted  on  our  own  country,  not 
forget  that  our  own  raids,  ambuscades,  and  surprisals  have 
been  at  least  equally  fatal  to  the  English  as  their  attacks  and 


506  WA  VEKLEY  NO VELS 

forays  have  been  to  us  ;  and,  in  short,  let  the  mutual  injuries 
of  the  crosses  of  St.  Andrew  and  of  St.  George  be  no  longer 
considered  as  hostile  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  opposite  dis- 
trict, at  least  during  the  festivals  of  religion  ;  but,  as  they 
are  mutually  signs  of  redemption,  let  them  be,  in  like  man- 
ner, intimations  of  forbearance  and  peace  on  both  sides/' 

"I  am  contented,"  answered  Turnbull,  "to  abstain  from 
all  offenses  towards  others,  and  shall  even  endeavor  to  keep 
myself  from  resenting  those  of  others  towards  me,  in  the 
hope  of  bringing  to  pass  such  a  quiet  and  godly  state  of 
things  as  your  words,  reverend  father,  induce  me  to  expect." 
Turning  his  face  to  the  wall,  the  Borderer  lay  in  stern  ex- 
pectation of  approaching  death,  which  the  bishop  left  him 
to  contemplate. 

The  peaceful  disposition  which  the  prelate  had  inspired 
into  Michael  Turnbull  had  in  some  degree  infused  itself 
among  those  present,  who  heard  with  awe  the  spiritual  ad- 
monition to  suspend  the  national  antipathy,  and  remain  in 
truce  and  amity  with  each  other.  Heaven  had,  however, 
decreed  that  the  national  quarrel,  in  which  so  much  blood 
had  been  sacrificed,  should  that  day  again  be  the  occasion  of 
deadly  strife. 

A  loud  flourish  of  trumpets,  seeming  to  proceed  from  be- 
neath the  earth,  now  rung  through  the  church,  and  roused 
the  attention  of  the  soldiers  and  worshipers  then  assembled. 
Most  of  those  who  heard  these  warlike  sounds  betook  them- 
selves to  their  weapons,  as  if  they  considered  it  useless  to 
wait  any  longer  for  the  signal  of  conflict.  Hoarse  voices, 
rude  exclamations,  the  rattle  of  swords  against  their  sheaths, 
or  their  clashing  against  other  pieces  of  armor,  gave  an 
awful  presage  of  an  onset,  which,  however,  was  for  a  time 
averted  by  the  exhortations  of  the  bishop.  A  second  flourish 
of  trumpets  having  taken  place,  the  voice  of  a  herald  made 
proclamation  to  the  following  purpose  : — 

"  That  whereas  there  were  many  noble  pursuivants  of 
chivalry  presently  assembled  in  the  kirk  of  Douglas,  and 
whereas  there  existed  among  them  the  usual  causes  cf 
quarrel  and  points  of  debate  for  their  advancement  in  chiv- 
alry, therefore  the  Scottish  knights  were  ready  to  fight  any 
number  of  the  English  who  might  be  agreed,  either  upon 
the  superior  beauty  of  their  ladies,  or  upon  the  national 
quarrel  in  any  of  its  branches,  or  upon  whatsoever  point 
might  be  at  issue  between  them,  which  should  be  deemed 
satisfactory  ground  of  quarrel  by  both  ;  and  the  knights  who 
should  chance  to  be  worsted  in  such  dispute  should  renounce 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  .  509 

fche  prosecution  thereof,  or  the  bearing  arms  therein  there- 
after, with  such  other  conditions  to  ensue  upon  their  defeat 
as  might  be  agreed  upon  by  a  council  of  the  knights  jn-eseut 
at  the  kirk  of  Douglas  aforesaid.  But  foremost  of  all,  any 
number  of  Scottish  knights,  from  one  to  twenty,  will  defend 
the  quarrel  which  has  already  drawn  blood,  touching  the 
freedom  of  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely,  and  the  rendition  of 
Douglas  Castle  to  the  owner  here  present.  Wherefore  it  is 
required  that  the  English  knights  do  intimate  their  consent 
that  such  trial  of  valor  take  place,  which,  according  to  the 
rules  of  chivalry,  they  cannot  refuse,  without  losing  utterly 
the  reputation  of  valor,  and  incurring  the  diminution  of  such 
other  degree  of  estimation  as  a  courageous  pursuivant  of 
arms  would  willingly  be  held  in,  both  by  the  good  knightc 
of  his  own  country  and  those  of  others.'* 

This  unexpected  gage  of  battle  realized  the  worst  fears  of 
those  who  had  looked  with  suspicion  on  the  extraordinary 
assemblage  this  day  of  the  dependants  of  the  house  of 
Douglas.  After  a  short  pause,  the  trumpets  again  flourished 
lustily,  when  the  reply  of  the  English  knights  was  made  in 
the  following  terms  : — 

"That  God  forbid  the  rights  and  privileges  of  England's 
knights,  and  the  beauty  of  her  damsels,  should  not  be  as- 
serted by  her  children,  or  that  such  English  knights  as  were 
here  assembled  should  show  the  least  backwardness  to  accept 
the  combat  offered,  whether  grounded  upon  the  superior 
beauty  of  their  ladies  or  whether  upon  the  causes  of  dispute 
between  the  countries,  for  either  or  all  of  which  the  knights 
of  England  here  present  were  willing  to  do  battle  in  the 
termj  of  the  indenture  aforesaid,  while  sword  and  lance 
shall  endure.  Saving  and  excepting  the  surrender  of  the 
Castle  of  Douglas,  which  can  be  rendered  to  no  one  but 
"Dngland's  king,  or  those  acting  under  his  orders." 


CHAPTEK    XX 

Cry  the  wild  war-note,  let  the  champions  pass, 

Do  bravely  each,  and  God  defend  the  right : 

Upon  St.  Andrew  thrice  can  they  thw  cry, 

And  thrice  they  shout  on  height, 

And  then  marked  them  on  the  Englishmen, 

As  I  have  told  you  right. 

St.  George  the  bright,  our  ladies'  knight, 

To  name  they  were  full  fain  ; 

Our  Englishmen  they  cried  on  height, 

And  thrice  they  shout  again. 

Old  Ballad. 

The  extraordinary  crisis  n^entioned  in  the  preceding  chapter 
was  the  cause,  as  may  be  supposed,  of  the  leaders  _  on  both 
sides  now  throwing  aside  all  concealment,  and  displaying 
their  utmost  strength,  by  marshaling  their  respective  ad- 
herents ;  the  renowned  knight  of  Douglas,  with  Sir  Mal- 
colm Fleming  and  other  distinguished  cavaliers,  were  seen 
in  close  consultation. 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  startled  by  the  first  flourish  of  trum- 
pets, while  anxiously  endeavoring  to  secure  a  retreat  for  the 
Lady  Augusta,  was  in  a  moment  seen  collecting  his  fol- 
lowers, in  which  he  was  assisted  by  the  active  friendship  of 
the  knight  of  Valence. 

The  Lady  of  Berkely  showed  no  craven  spirit  at  these 
warlike  preparations  :  she  advanced,  closely  followed  by  the 
faithful  Bertram,  and  a  female  in  a  riding-hood,  whose  face, 
though  carefully  concealed,  was  no  other  than  that  of 
the  unfortunate  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  whose  worse  fears 
had  been  realized  as  to  the  faithlessness  of  her  betrothed 
knight. 

A  pause  ensued,  which  for  some  time  no  one  present 
thought  himself  of  authority  sufficient  to  break. 

At'last  the  knight  of  Douglas  stepped  forward  and  said 
loudly,  "1  wait  to  know  whether  Sir  John  De  Walton  re- 
quests leave  of  James  of  Douglas  to  evacuate  his  castle  with- 
out further  wasting  that  daylight  which  might  show  us  to 
judge  a  fair  field,  and  whether  he  craves  Douglas's  protec- 
tion in  doing  so  ?  ** 

610 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  511 

The  knight  of  Walton  drew  his  sword,  "I  hold  the 
Castle  of  Douglas/'  he  said,  "  in  spite  of  all  deadly  ;  and 
never  will  I  ask  the  protection  from  any  one  which  my  own 
sword  is  competent  to  afford  me." 

"  I  stand  by  you,  Sir  John,"  said  Aymer  de  Valence,  "  as 
your  true  comrade,  against  whatever  odds  may  oppose  them- 
selves to  us." 

"  Courage,  noble  English,"  said  the  voice  of  Greenleaf  ; 
"  take  your  weapon,  in  Grod's  name.  Bows  and  bills — bows 
and  bills  !  A  messenger  brings  us  notice  that  Pembroke  is 
in  full  march  hither  from  the  borders  of  Ayrshire,  and  will 
be  with  us  in  half  an  hour.  Fight  on,  gallant  English  ! 
Valence  to  the  rescue  !  and  long  life  to  the  gallant  Earl  of 
Pembroke  ! " 

Those  English  within  and  around  the  church  no  longer 
delayed  to  take  arms,  and  De  Walton,  crying  out  at,  the 
height  of  his  voice,  "I  implore  the  Douglas  to  look  nearly 
to  the  safety  of  the  ladies,"  fought  his  way  to  the  church 
door,  the  Scottish  finding  themselves  unable  to  resist  the 
impression  of  terror  which  affected  them  at  the  sight  of  this 
renowned  knight,  seconded  by  his  brother-in-arms,  both  of 
whom  had  been  so  long  the  terror  of  the  district.  In  the 
meantime,  it  is  possible  that  De  Walton  might  altogether 
have  forced  his  way  out  of  the  church,  had  he  not  been  met 
boldly  by  the  young  son  cTf  Thomas  Dickson  of  Hazelside, 
while  his  father  was  receiving  from  Douglas  the  charge  of 
preserving  the  stranger  ladies  from  all  harm  from  the  fight, 
which,  so  long  suspended,  was  now  on  the  point  of  taking 
place. 

De  Walton  cast  his  eye  upon  the  Lady  Augusta,  with  a 
desire  of  rushing  to  the  rescue  ;  but  was  forced  to  conclude 
that  he  provided  best  for  her  safety  by  leaving  her  under 
the  protection  of  Douglas's  honor. 

Young  Dickson,  in  the  meantime,  heaped  blow  on  blow, 
seconding  with  all  his  juvenile  courage  every  effort  he  could 
make,  in  order  to  attain  the  prize  due  to  the  conqueror  of 
the  renowned  De  Walton. 

"  Silly  boy,"  at  length  said  Sir  John,  who  had  for  some 
time  forborne  the  stripling,  "  take,  then,  thy  death  from  a 
noble  hand,  since  thou  preferrest  that  to  peace  and  length 
of  days." 

"  I  care  not,"  said  the  Scottish  youth,  with  his  dying 
breath  :  "  I  have  lived  long  enough,  since  I  have  kept  you 
Bo  long  in  the  place  where  you  stand." 

And  the  youth  said  truly,  for,  as  he  fell  never  again  to  rise. 


512  WAVER  LEV  NOVELS 

the  Douglas  stood  in  his  place,  and  without  a  word  spoken, 
again  engaged  with  De  Walton  in  the  same  formidable  single 
combat  by  which  they  had  already  been  distinguished,  but 
with  even  additional  fury.  Aymer  de  Valence  drew  up  to 
his  friend  De  Walton's  left  hand,  and  seemed  hvit  to  desire 
the  apology  of  one  of  Douglas's  people  attempting  to  second 
him  to  join  in  the  fray  ;  but  as  he  saw  no  person  who  seemed 
disposed  to  give  him  such  opportunity,  he  represed  the  in 
clination,  and  remained  an  unwilling  spectator.  At  length 
it  seemed  as  if  Fleming,  who  stood  foremost  among  the  Scot- 
tish knights,  was  desirous  to  measure  his  sword  with  De 
Valence.  Aymer  himself,  burning  with  the  desire  of  combat, 
at  last  called  out,  "Faithless  knight  of  Bogliall,  step  forth 
and  defend  yourself  against  the  imputation  of  having  de- 
serted your  lady-love,  and  of  being  a  man  sworn  disgrace  to 
the  rolls  of  chivalry  !  " 

"  My  answer,"  said  Fleming,  "even  to  a  less  gross  taunt, 
hangs  by  my  side."  In  an  instant  his  sword  was  in  his  hand, 
andeven  the  practised  warriors  who  looked  on  felt  difficulty 
in  discovering  the  progress  of  the  strife,  which  rather  re- 
sembled a  thunderstorm  in  a  mountainous  country  than  tlie 
stroke  and  parry  of  two  swords,  oifending  on  the  one  side 
and  keeping  the  defensive  on  the  other. 

Tlieir  blows  were  exchanged  with  surprising  rapidity  ;  and 
although  the  two  combatants  did-  not  equal  Douglas  and  De 
Walton  in  maintaining  a  certain  degree  of  reserve,  founded 
upon  a  respect  which  these  knights  mutually  entertained  for 
each  other,  yet  the  want  of  art  was  supplied  by  a  degree  of 
fury  which  gave  chance  at  least  an  equal  share  in  the  issue. 

Seeing  their  superiors  thus  desperately  engaged,  the  par- 
tizans,  as  they  were  accustomed,  stood  still  on  either  side, 
and  looked  on  with  the  reverence  which  they  instinctively 
paid  to  their  commanders  and  leaders  in  arms.  One  or  two 
of  the  women  were  in  the  meanwhile  attracted,  according  to 
the  nature  of  the  sex,  by  compassion  for  those  who  had  al- 
ready experienced  the  casualties  of  war.  Young  Dickson, 
breathing  his  last  among  the  feet  of  his  combatants,*  was  in 
Bome  sort  rescued  from  the  tumult  by  the  Lady  of  Berkely, 
in  whom  the  action  seemed  less  strange,  owing  to  the 
pilgrim's  dress  which  she  still  retained,  and  who  in  vain  en- 
deavored to  solicit  the  attention  of  the  boy's  father  to  the 
task  in  which  she  was  engaged. 

"  Cumber  yourself  not,  lady,  about  that  which  is  bootless," 
Bald  old  Dickson,  "  and  distract  not  your  own  attention  and 
♦See  Death  of  Young  Dickson.     Note  11. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  518 

mine  from  preserving  you,  whom  it  is  the  Douglas's  wish  to 
rescue,  and  whom,  so  please  God  and  St.  Bride,  T  consider 
as  placed  by  my  chieftain  under  my  charge.  Believe  me, 
this  youth's  death  is  in  no  way  forgotten,  though  this  be  not 
the  time  to  remember  it.  A  time  will  come  for  recollection, 
and  an  hour  for  revenge." 

So  said  the  stern  old  man,  reverting  his  eyes  from  the* 
bloody  corpse  which  lay  at  his  feet,  a  model  of  beauty  and 
strength.  Having  taken  one  more  anxious  look,  he  turned 
round,  and  placed  himself  where  he  could  best  protect  the 
Lady  of  Berkely,  not  again  turning  his  eyes  on  his  son's 
body. 

In  the  interim  the  combat  continued,  without  the  least 
cessation  on  either  side,  and  without  a  decided  advantage. 
At  length,  however,  fate  seemed  disposed  to  interfere  :  the 
knight  of  Fleming,  pushing  fiercely  forward,  and  brought 
by  chance  almost  close  to  the  person  of  the  Lady  Margaret 
De  Hautlieu,  missed  his  blow,  and  his  foot  sliding  m  the 
blood  of  the  young  victim,  Dickson,  he  fell  before  his  antago- 
nist, and  was  in  imminent  danger  of  being  at  his  mercy, 
when  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  who  inherited  the  soul  of  a  war- 
rior, and,  besides,  was  a  very  strong,  as  well  as  undaunted, 
person,  seeing  a  mace  of  no  great  weight  lying  on  the  floor, 
where  it  had  been  dropped  by  the  fallen  Dickson — it  at  the 
same  instant  caught  her  eye,  armed  her  hand,  and  inter- 
cepted or  struck  down  the  sword  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence, 
who  would  otherwise  have  remained  the  master  of  the  day 
at  that  interesting  moment.  Fleming  had  more  to  do  to 
avail  himself  of  an  unexpected  chance  of  recovery  than  to 
make  a  commentary  upon  the  manner  in  which  it  had  been 
so  singularly  brought  about :  he  instantly  recovered  the  ad- 
vantage he  had  lost,  and  was  able  in  the  ensuing  close  to 
trip  up  the  feet  of  his  antagonist,  who  fell  on  the  pavement, 
while  the  voice  of  his  conqueror,  if  he  could  properly  be 
termed  such,  resounded  through  the  church  with  the  fatal 
words,  "  Yield  thee,  Aymer  de  Valence — rescue  or  no  rescue  ; 
yield  thee — yield  thee  ! "  he  added,  as  he  placed  his  sword  to 
the  throat  of  the  fallen  knight,  ''not  to  me,  but  to  this 
noble  lady — rescue  or  no  rescue." 

Witli  a  heavy  heart  the  English  knight  perceived  that  he 
had  fairly  lost  so  favorable  an  opportunity  of  acquiring  fame, 
and  was  obliged  to  submit  to  his  destiny,  or  be  slain  upon 
the  spot.  There  was  only  one  consolation,  that  no  battle 
was  ever  more  honorably  sustained,  being  gained  as  much  by 
accident  as  by  valor. 
33 


514  WA  VERLEY  NO  VEL A 

The  fate  of  the  protracted  and  desperate  combat  between 
Douglas  and  De  Walton  did  not  much  longer  remain  in  sus- 
pense ;  indeed,  the  number  of  conquests  in  single  combat 
achieved  by  the  Douglas  in  these  wars  was  so  great  as  to 
make  it  doubtful  whether  he  was  not,  in  personal  strength 
and  skill,  even  a  superior  knight  to  Bruce  himself,  and  he 
was  at  least  acknowledged  nearly  his  equal  in  the  art  of  war. 

So,  however,  it  was  that,  when  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
had  passed  in  hard  contest,  Douglas  and  De  AValton,  whose 
nerves  were  not  actually  of  iron,  began  to  show  some  signs 
that  their  human  bodies  were  feeling  the  effect  of  the  dread- 
ful exertion.  Their  blows  began  to  be  drawn  more  slowly, 
and  were  parried  with  less  celerity.  Douglas,  seeing  that 
the  combat  must  soon  come  to  an  end,  generously  made  a 
signal,  intimating  to  his  antagonist  to  hold  his  hand  for  an 
instant. 

"  Brave  De  Walton,"  he  said,  "  there  is  no  mortal  quar- 
rel between  us,  and  you  must  be  sensible  that  in  this  passage 
of  arms  Douglas,  though  he  is  only  worth  his  sword  and  his 
cloak,  has  abstained  from  taking  a  decisive  advantage  when 
the  chance  of  arms  has  more  than  once  offered  it.  My 
father's  house,  the  broad  domains  around  it,  the  dwelling, 
and  the  graves  of  my  ancestors,  form  a  reasonable  reward 
for  a  knight  to  fight  for,  and  call  upon  me  in  an  imperative 
voice  to  prosecute  the  strife  which  has  such  an  object,  while 
you  are  as  welcome  to  the  noble  lady,  in  all  honor  and  safety, 
as  if  you  had  received  her  from  the  hands  of  King  Edward 
himself  ;  and  I  give  you  my  word,  that  the  utmost  honors 
which  can  attend  a  prisoner,  and  a  careful  absence  of  every- 
thing like  injury  or  insult,  shall  attend  De  Walton  when 
he  yields  up  the  castle,  as  well  as  his  sword,  to  James  of 
Douglas." 

"  It  is  the  fate  to  which  I  am  perhaps  doomed,"  replied 
Sir  John  de  Walton  ;  "  but  never  will  I  voluntarily  embrace 
it,  and  never  shall  it  be  said  that  my  own  tongue,  saving  in 
the  last  extremity,  pronounced  upon  me  the  fatal  sentence 
to  sink  the  point  of  my  own  sword.  Pembroke  is  upon  the 
march  with  his  whole  army  to  rescue  the  garrison  of  Douglas. 
I  hear  the  tramp  of  his  horse's  feet  even  now  ;  and  I  will 
maintain  my  ground  while  I  am  within  reach  of  support ; 
nor  do  I  fear  that  the  breath  which  now  begins  to  fail  will 
not  last  long  enough  to  uphold  the  struggle  till  the  arrival 
of  the  expected  succor.  Come  on,  then,  and  treat  me  not 
as  a  child,  but  as  one  who,  whether  I  stand  or  fall,  fears  not 
to  encounter  the  utmost  force  of  my  knightly  antagonist." 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  515 

"So  be  it,  then,"  said  Douglas,  a  darksome  hue,  like  the 
lurid  color  of  the  thunder-cloud,  changing  his  brow  as  he 
spoke,  intimating  that  he  meditated  a  speedy  end  to  the 
contest,  when,  just  as  the  noise  of  horses'  feet  drew  nigh,  a 
Welsh  knight,  known  as  such  by  the  diminutive  size  of  his 
steed,  his  naked  limbs,  and  his  bloody  spear,  called  out 
loudly  to  the  combatants  to  hold  their  hands. 

"  Is  Pembroke  near  ?"  said  De  Walton. 

"No  nearer  than  Loudon  Hill,"  said  the  Prestantin  ; 
**  but  I  bring  his  commands  to  John  de  Walton." 

"  I  stand  ready  to  obey  them  through  every  danger,"  an- 
swered the  knight. 

"Woe  is  me,"  said  the  Welshman,  "that  my  mouth  should 
bring  to  the  ears  of  so  brave  a  man  tidings  so  unwelcome  ! 
The  Earl  of  Pembroke  yesterday  received  information  that 
the  Castle  of  Douglas  was  attacked  by  the  son  of  the  deceased 
earl  and  the  whole  inhabitants  of  the  district.  Pembroke, 
on  hearing  this,  resolved  to  march  to  your  support,  noble 
knight,  with  all  the  forces  he  had  at  his  disposal.  He  did 
so,  and  accordingly  entertained  every  assurance  of  relieving 
the  castle,  when  unexpectedly  he  met,  on  Loudon  Hill,  a 
body  of  men  of  no  very  inferior  force  to  his  own,  and  hav- 
ing at  their  head  the  famous  Bruce  whom  the  Scottish 
rebels  acknowledge  as  their  king.  He  marched  instantly  to 
the  attack,  swearing  he  would  not  even  draw  a  comb  through 
his  gray  beard  until  he  had  rid  England  of  this  recurring 
plague.     But  the  fate  of  war  was  against  us." 

He  stopped  here  for  lack  of  breath. 

"I  thought  so!"  exclaimed  Douglas.  "  Eobert  Bruce 
will  now  sleep  at  night,  since  he  has  paid  home  Pembroke 
for  the  slaughter  of  his  friends  and  the  dispersion  of  his  army 
at  Methuen  Wood.  His  men  are,  indeed,  accustomed  to 
meet  with  dangers,  and  to  conquer  them  :  those  who  follow 
him  have  been  trained  under  Wallace,  besides  being  partakers 
of  the  perils  of  Bruce  himself.  It  was  thought  that  the 
waves  had  swallowed  them  when  they  shipped  themselves 
from  the  west  ;  but  know  that  the  Bruce  was  determined 
with  the  present  reviving  spring  to  awaken  his  pretensions, 
and  that  he  retires  not  from  Scotland  again  while  he  lives, 
and  while  a  single  lord  remains  to  set  his  foot  by  his  sover- 
eign, in  spite  of  all  the  power  which  has  been  so  feloniously 
employed  against  him." 

"  It  is  even  too  true,"  said  the  Welshman  Meredith, 
"  although  it  is  said  by  a  proud  Scotchman.  The  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  completely  defeated,  is  unable  to  stir  from  Ayr, 


516  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

towards  which  he  has  retreated  with  great  loss  ;  and  he 
sends  his  instructions  to  Sir  John  de  Walton  to  make  the 
best  terras  he  can  for  the  surrender  of  the  Castle  of  Douglas, 
and  trust  nothing  to  his  support." 

The  Scottish,  who  heard  this  unexpected  news,  joined  in 
a  shout  so  loud  and  energetic,  that  the  ruins  of  the  ancient 
church  seemed  actually  to  rock,  and  threaten  to  fall  on  the 
heads  of  those  who  were  crowded  within  it. 

The  brow  of  De  Walton  was  overclouded  at  the  news  of 
Pembroke's  defeat,  although  in  some  respects  it  placed  him 
at  liberty  to  take  measures  for  the  safety  of  the  Lady  of 
Berkely.  He  could  not,  however,  claim  the  same  honorable 
terms  which  had  been  offered  to  him  by  Douglas  before  the 
news  of  the  battle  of  Loudon  Hill  had  arrived. 

"  Noble  Knight,"  he  said,  "  it  is  entirely  at  your  pleasure 
to  dictate  the  terms  of  surrender  of  your  paternal  castle  ; 
nor  have  I  a  right  to  claim  from  you  those  conditions  which, 
a  little  while  since,  your  generosity  put  in  my  offer.  But  I 
submit  to  my  fate  ;  and  upon  whatever  terms  you  think  fit 
to  grant  me,  I  must  be  content  to  offer  to  surrender  to  you 
the  weapon  of  which  I  now  put  the  point  in  the  earth,  in 
evidence  that  I  will  never  more  direct  it  against  you  until 
a  fair  ransom   shall  place  it  once  more  at  my  own  disposal." 

"  God  forbid,"  answered  the  noble  James  of  Douglas, 
"  that  I  should  take  such  advantage  of  the  bravest  knight 
out  of  not  a  few  who  have  found  me  work  in  battle  !  I  will 
take  example  from  the  knight  of  Fleming,  who  has  gallantly 
bestowed  his  captive  in  guerdon  upon  a  noble  damsel  here 
present ;  and  in  like  manner  I  transfer  my  claim  upon  the 
person  of  the  redoubted  knight  of  Walton  to  the  high  and 
noble  Lady  Augusta  Berkely,  who,  I  hope,  will  not  scorn  to 
accept  from  the  Douglas  a  gift  which  the  chance  of  war  has 
thrown  into  his  hands." 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  on  hearing  this  unexpected  decision, 
looked  up  like  the  traveler  who  discovers  the  beams  of  the 
snn  breaking  through  and  dispersing  the  tempest  which  has 
accompanied  him  for  a  whole  morning.  The  Lady  of 
Berkely  recollected  what  became  her  rank,  and  showed  her 
sense  of  the  Douglas's  chivalry.  Hastily  wiping  off  the  tears 
which  had  unwillingly  flowed  to  her  eyes,  while  her  lover's 
safety  and  her  own  were  resting  on  the  precarious  issue  of  a 
desperate  combat,  she  assumed  the  look  proper  to  a  heroine 
of  that  age,  who  did  not  feel  averse  to  accept  the  importance 
which  was  conceded  to  her  by  the  general  voice  of  the 
chivalry    of  the    period.     Stepping  forward,  bearing  her 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  517 

person  gracefully,  yefc  modestly,  in  the  attitude  of  a  lady 
accustomed  to  be  looked  to  in  difficulties  like  the  present, 
she  addressed  the  audience  in  a  tone  which  might  not  have 
misbecome  the  Goddess  of  Battle  dispensing  her  influence  at 
the  close  of  a  field  covered  with  the  dead  and  the  dying. 

"  The  noble  Douglas,"  she  said,  "shall  not  pass  without 
a  prize  from  the  field  which  he  has  so  nobly  won.  This 
rich  string  of  brilliants,  which  my  ancestor  won  from  the 
Sultan  ot  Trebizond,  itself  a  prize  of  battle,  will  be  honored 
by  sustaining,  under  the  Douglas's  armor,  a  lock  of  hair  of 
the  fortunate  lady  whom  the  victorious  lord  has  adopted  for 
his  guide  in  chivalry  ;  and  if  the  Douglas,  till  he  shall  adorn 
it  with  that  lock,  will  permit  the  honored  lock  of  hair  which 
it  now  bears  to  retain  its  station,  she  on  whosro  head  it  grew 
will  hold  it  as  a  signal  that  poor  Augusta  de  Berkely^  is 
pardoned  for  having  gaged  any  mortal  man  in  strife  with 
the  knight  of  Douglas." 

"  Woman's  love,"  replied  the  Douglas,  "shall  not  divorce 
this  locket  from  my  bosom,  which  I  will  keep  till  the  last 
day  of  ray  life,  as  emblematic  of  female  worth  and  female 
virtue.  And,  not  to  encroach  upon  the  valued  and  honored 
province  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  be  it  known,  to  all  men, 
that  whoever  shall  say  that  the  Lady  Augusta  of  Berkely 
has,  in  this  entangled  matter,  acted  otherwise  than  becomes 
the  noblest  of  her  sex,  he  will  do  well  to  be  ready  to  maintain 
such  a  proposition  with  his  lance  against  James  of  Douglas, 
in  a  fair  field. 

This  speech  was  heard  with  approbation  on  all  sides  ;  and 
the  news  brought  by  Meredith  of  the  defeat  of  the  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  and  his  subsequent  retreat,  reconciled  the  fiercest 
of  the  English  soldiers  to  the  surrender  of  Douglas  Castle. 
The  necessary  conditions  were  speedily  agreed  on,  which  put 
the  Scottish  in  possession  of  this  stronghold,  together  with 
the  stores,  both  of  arms  and  ammunition,  of  every  kind 
which  it  contained.  The  garrison  had  it  to  boast,  that  they 
obtained  a  free  passage,  with  their  horses  and  arms,  to  return 
by  the  shortest  and  safest  route  to  the  marches  of  England, 
without  either  suffering  or  inflicting  damage. 

Margaret  of  Hautlieu  was  not  behind  in  acting  a  generous 
part  :  the  gallant  knight  of  Valence  was  allowed  to  accom- 
pany his  friend  De  Walton  and  the  Lady  Augusta  to  England, 
and  without  ransom. 

The  venerable  prelate  of  Glasgow,  seeing  what  appeared 
at  one  time  likely  to  end  in  a  general  conflict  terminate  so 
auspiciously  for  his  country,  contented  himself  with  bestow- 


518  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ing  his  blessing  on  the  assembled  multitude,  and  retiring 
with  those  who  came  to  assist  in  the  service  of  the  day. 

This  surrender  of  Douglas  Castle  upon  the  Palm  Sunday 
of  19th  March,  1306-7  was  the  beginning  of  a  career  of  con- 
quest which  was  uninterrupted,  in  which  the  greater  part 
of  the  strengths  and  fortresses  of  Scotland  were  yielded  to 
those  who  asserted  the  liberty  of  their  country,  until  the 
crowning  mercy  was  gained  in  the  celebrated  field  of  Ban- 
nockburn,  where  the  English  sustained  a  defeat  more  disas- 
trous than  is  mentioned  upon  any  other  occasion  in  their 
annals. 

Little  need  be  said  of  the  fate  of  the  persons  of  this  story. 
King  Edward  was  greatly  enraged  at  Sir  John  de  Walton  for 
having  surrendered  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  securing  at  the 
same  time  his  own  object,  the  envied  hand  of  the  heiress  of 
Berkely.  The  knights  to  whom  he  referred  the  matter  as  a 
subject  of  inquiry  gave  it  nevertheless  as  their  opinion  that 
De  Walton  was  void  of  all  censure,  having  discharged  his 
duty  to  the  fullest  extent,  till  the  commands  of  his  superior 
officer  obliged  him  to  surrender  the  Dangerous  Castle. 

A  singular  renewal  of  intercourse  took  place,  many  months 
afterwards,  betAveeu  Margaret  of  Hautlieu  and  her  lover,  Sir 
Malcolm  Fleming.  The  use  which  the  lady  made  of  her 
freedom,  and  of  the  doom  of  the  Scottish  Parliament,  wdiich 
put  her  in  possession  of  her  father's  inheritance,  was  to  follow 
her  adventurous  spirit  through  dangers  not  usually  encount- 
ered by  those  of  her  sex  ;  and  the  Lady  of  Hautlieu  was  not 
only  a  daring  follower  of  the  chase,  but  it  was  said  that  she 
was  even  not  daunted  in  the  battlefield.  She  remained 
faithful  to  the  political  principles  which  she  had  adopted  at 
an  early  period ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  slie  had  formed  the  gal- 
lant resolution  of  shaking  the  god  Cupid  from  her  horse's 
mane,  if  not  treading  him  beneath  her  horse's  feet. 

The  Fleming,  although  he  had  vanished  from  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  counties  of  Lanark  and  Ayr,  made  an  attempt 
to  state  his  apology  to  the  Lady  of  Hautlieu  herself,  who  re- 
turned his  letter  unopened,  and  remained  to  all  appearance 
resolved  never  again  to  enter  upon  the  topic  of  their  original 
engagement.  It  chanced,  however,  at  a  later  period  of  the 
war  with  England,  while  Fleming  was  one  night  traveling 
upon  the  Border,  after  the  ordinary  fashion  of  one  who 
sought  adventures,  a  waiting-maid,  equipped  in  a  fantastic 
habit,  asked  the  protection  of  his  arm  in  the  name  of  her 
lady,  who,  late  in  the  evening,  had  been  made  captive,  she 
said,  by  certain  ill-disposed  caitiffs,  who  were  carrying  her 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS  519 

by  force  through  the  forest.  The  Fleming's  lance,  was,  of 
course,  in  its  rest,  and  woe  betide  the  faitour  whose  lot  it 
was  to  encounter  its  thrust :  the  first  fell,  incapable  of  farther 
combat,  and  another  of  the  felons  encountered  the  same  fate 
with  little  more  resistance.  The  lady,  released  from  the  dis- 
courteous cord  which  restrained  her  liberty,  did  not  hesitate 
to  join  company  with  the  brave  knight  by  whom  she  had 
been  rescued  ;  and  although  the  darkness  did  not  permit  her 
to  recognize  her  own  lover  m  her  liberator,  yet  she  could  not 
but  lend  a  willing  ear  to  the  conversation  with  which  he  en- 
tertained her,  as  they  proceeded  on  the  way.  He  spoke  of 
the  fallen  caitiffs  as  being  Englishmen,  who  found  a  pleasure 
in  exercising  oppression  and  barbarities  upon  the  wandering 
damsels  of  Scotland,  and  whose  cause,  therefore,  the  cham- 
pions of  that  country  were  bound  to  avenge  while  the  blood 
throbbed  in  their  veins.  He  spoke  of  the  injustice  of  the 
national  quarrel  which  had  afforded  a  pretense  for  such 
deliberate  oppression  ;  and  the  lady,  who  herself  had 
suffered  so  much  by  the  interference  of  the  English  in 
the  affairs  of  Scotland,  readily  acquiesced  in  the  sentiments 
which  he  expressed  on  a  subject  which  she  had  so  much 
reason  for  regarding  as  an  afflicting  one.  Her  answer  was 
given  in  the  spirit  of  a  person  who  would  not  hesitate,  if  the 
times  should  call  for  such  an  example,  to  defend  even  with 
her  hand  the  rights  which  she  asserted  with  her  tongue. 

Pleased  with  the  sentiments  wliich  she  expressed  and  rec- 
ognizing in  her  voice  that  secret  charm  which,  once  im- 
pressed upon  the  human  heart,  is  rarely  wrought  out  of  the 
remembrance  by  along  train  of  subsequent  events,  he  almost 
persuaded  himself  that  the  tones  were  familiar  to  him,  and 
had  at  one  time  formed  the  key  to  his  innermost  affections. 
In  proceeding  on  their  journey,  the  knight's  troubled  state 
of  mind  was  augmented  instead  of  being  diminished.  The 
scenes  of  his  earliest  youth  were  recalled  by  circumstances  so 
slight  as  would  in  ordinary  cases  have  produced  no  effect 
whatsoever  ;  the  sentiments  appeared  similar  to  those  which 
his  life  had  been  devoted  to  enforce,  and  he  half  persuaded 
himself  that  the  dawn  of  day  was  to  be  to  him  the  beginning 
of  a  fortune  equally  singular  and  extraordinary. 

In  the  midst  of  his  anxiety  Sir  Malcolm  Fleming  had  no 
anticipation  that  the  lady  whom  he  had  heretofore  rejected 
was  again  thrown  into  his  path,  after  years  of  absence  ;  still 
less,  when  daylight  gave  him  a  partial  view  of  his  fair  com- 
panion's countenance,  was  he  prepared  to  believe  that  he  was 
once  again  to  term  himself  the  champion  of  Margaret  de 


520  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Hautlieu,.  but  it  was  so.  The  lady,  on  that  direful  morning 
when  she  retired  from  the  church  of  Douglas,  had  not  re- 
solved (indeed,  v/hat  lady  ever  did  ?  )  to  renounce,  without 
some  struggle,  the  beauties  which  slie  had  once  possessed. 
A  long  process  of  time,  employed  under  skilful  hands,  had 
succeeded  in  obliterating  the  scars  which  remained  as  the 
marks  of  her  fall.  These  were  now  considerably  effaced,  and 
the  lost  organ  of  sight  no  longer  appeared  so  great  a  blemish, 
concealed  as  it  was  by  a  black  ribbon  and  the  arts  of  the 
tirewoman,  who  made  it  her  business  to  shadow  it  over  by  a 
lock  of  hair.  In  a  word,  he  saw  the  same  Margaret  de 
Hautlieu,  with  no  very  different  style  of  expression  from 
that  which  her  face,  partaking  of  the  high  andpassionate  char- 
acter of  her  soul,  had  always  presented.  It  seemed  to  both, 
therefore,  that  their  fate,  by  bringing  them  together  after  a 
reparation  which  appeared  so  decisive,  had  intimated  its  fiat 
that  their  fortunes  were  inseparable  from  each  other.  By 
the  time  that  the  summer  sun  had  climbed  high  in  the  heav- 
ens, the  two  travelers  rode  apart  from  their  retinue,  convers- 
ing together  with  an  eagerness  which  marked  the  important 
matters  in  discussion  between  them  ;  and  in  a  short  time  it 
was  made  generally  knoAvn  through  Scotland  that  Sir  Mal- 
colm Fleming  and  the  Lady  Margaret  de  Hautlieu  were  to 
be  united  at  the  court  of  the  good  King  Robert,  and  the 
husband  invested  with  honors  of  Biggar  and  Cumbernauld, 
an  •arldoin  so  long  known  in  the  family  of  Fleming. 


CASTLE  DAMGEROUS  521 


[CONCLUSION] 

The  gentle  reader  is  acquainted  that  these  are,  in  all  prob- 
ability, the  last  tales  which  it  will  be  the  lot  of  the  Author 
to  submit  to  the  public.  He  is  now  on  the  eve  of  visiting 
foreign  parts :  a  ship  of  war  is  commissioned  by  its  royal 
master  to  carry  the  Author  of  Waverley  to  climates  in  which 
he  may  possibly  obtain  such  a  restoration  of  health  as  may 
serve  him  to  spin  his  thread  to  an  end  in  his  own  country. 
Had  he  continued  to  prosecute  his  usual  literary  labors,  it 
seems  indeed  probable  that,  at  the  term  of  years  he  has  al- 
ready attained,  the  bowl,  to  use  the  pathetic  language  of  the 
Scripture,  would  have  been  broken  at  the  fountain  ;  and 
little  can  one  who  has  eujoyed  on  the  whole  an  uncommon 
share  of  the  most  inestimable  of  worldly  blessings  be  entitled 
to  complain  that  life,  advancing  to  its  period,  should  be 
attended  with  its  usual  proportions  of  shadows  and  storms. 
They  had  affected  him  at  least  in  no  more  painful  manner 
than  is  inseparable  from  the  discharge  of  this  part  of  the 
debt  of  humanity.  Of  those  whose  relation  to  him  in  the 
ranks  of  life  might  have  ensured  him  their  sympathy  under 
indisposition,  many  are  now  no  more  ;  and  those  who  may 
yet  follow  in  his  wake  are  entitled  to  expect,  in  bearing  in- 
evitable evils,  an  example  of  firmness  and  patience,  more 
especially  on  the  part  of  one  who  has  enjoyed  no  small  good 
fortune  during  the  course  of  his  pilgrimage. 

The  public  have  claims  on  his  gratitude  for  which  the 
Author  of  Waverley  has  no  adequate  means  of  expression  ; 
but  he  may  be  permitted  to  hope  that  the  powers  of  his  mind, 
such  as  they  are,  may  not  have  a  different  date  from  those 
of  his  body  ;  and  that  he  may  again  meet  his  patronizing 
friends,  if  not  exactly  in  his  old  fashion  of  literature,  at 
least  in  some  branch  which  may  not  call  forth  the  remark 
that — 

Superfluous  lags  the  veteran  on  the  stage. 

Abbotsfokd,  September,  1831. 


APPENDIX  TO  INTEODUCTION 

TO 

THE  TALISMAN 

While  warring  In  the  Holy  Land,  Richard  was  seized  with  an  ague.  The  besc 
leeches  of  the  camp  were  unable  to  effect  the  cure  of  the  King's  disease  ;  but 
the  prayers  of  the  army  were  more  successful.  He  became  convalescent,  and 
the  first  symptom  of  his  recovery  was  a  violent  longing  for  porlc.  But  pork  was 
not  likely  to  be  plentiful  ia  a  country  whose  inhabitants  had  an  abhorrence  for 
swine's  flesh ;  and  ,  ,     ,  . 

Though  his  men  should  be  hanged. 

They  ne  might,  in  that  countrey. 

For  gold,  ne  silver,  ne  no  money, 

No  pork  find,  take,  ne  get. 

That  King  Richard  might  aught  of  eat. 

An  old  knight  with  Richard  biding. 

When  he  heard  of  that  tiding. 

That  the  kingis  wants  were  swyche, 

To  the  steward  he  spake  privyliche— 

"  Our  lord  the  king  sore  is  sick,  I  wis. 

After  porck  he  alonged  is. 

Ye  may  none  find  to  selle. 

No  man  be  hardy  him  so  to  telle  ; 

If  he  did  he  might  die. 

Now  behoves  to  done  as  I  shall  say, 

Tho'  he  wete  nought  of  that. 

Take  a  Saracen,  young  and  fat ; 

In  haste  let  the  thief  be  slain. 

Opened,  and  his  skin  off  flayn. 

And  sodden  full  hastily. 

With  powder  and  with  spicery. 

And  with  saffron  of  good  colour. 

When  the  king  feels  thereof  savour, 

Out  of  ague  if  he  be  went. 

He  shall  have  thereto  good  talent. 

When  he  has  a  good  taste. 

And  eaten  well  a  good  repast. 

And  supped  of  the  brewis  a  sup. 

Slept  after  and  swet  a  drop. 

Through  Goddis  help  and  my  counsail. 

Soon  he  shall  be  fresh  and  hail." 

The  sooth  to  say,  at  wordes  few, 

Slain  and  sodden  was  the  heathen  shrew. 

Before  the  king  it  was  forth  brought : 

guod  his  men,  "  Lord,  we  have  pork  sought ' 
ates  and  suppes  of  the  brewis  soote. 
Thorough  grace  of  God  it  shall  be  your  boot.*- 
Before  King  Richard  carff  a  knight. 
He  ate  faster  than  he  carve  might. 
The  king  ate  the  flesh  and  gnew  the  bones. 
And  drank  well  after  for  the  nonce. 
And  when  he  had  eaten  enough. 
His  folk  hem  turned  away,  and  lough. 
He  lay  still  and  drew  in  his  arm  ; 
His  chamberlain  him  wrapped  warm. 
523 


624  APPENDIX  TO  INTROlJUCTlON 

He  lay  and  slept,  and  swet  a  stound, 
And  became  whole  and  sound. 
King  Richard  clad  hiin  and  arose, 
And  walked  abouten  in  the  close. 

An  attack  erf  the  Saracens  was  repelled  by  Richard  in  person,  the  consequent 
of  which  is  told  in  the  following  lines  : — 

When  King  Richard  had  rested  a  whyle. 

A  knight  his  arms  'gan  unlace, 

Him  to  comfort  and  solace. 

Him  was  brought  a  sop  in  wine. 

"The  head  of  that  ilke  swine, 

That  I  of  ate,"  the  cook  he  bade, 

"  For  feeble  I  am,  and  faint  and  mad. 

Of  mine  evil  now  I  am  fear ; 

Serve  me  therewith  at  my  soupere." 

Quod  the  cook,  "That  head  I  ne  have." 

Then  said  the  king,  "  So  God  me  save. 

But  I  see  the  head  of  that  swine, 

For  sooth,  thou  shalt  lesen  thine." 

The  cook  saw  none  other  might  be  ; 

He  fet  the  head  and  let  him  see. 

He  fell  on  knees,  and  made  a  cry — 

"  Lo,  here  the  head  1  my  Lord,  mercy  I " 

The  cook  had  certainly  some  reason  to  fear  that  his  master  would  be  strucK 
with  horror  at  the  recollection  of  the  dreadful  banquet  to  which  he  owed  his  re- 
covery, but  his  fears  were  soon  dissipated. 

The  swarte  vis  when  the  king  seeth. 

His  black  beard  and  white  teeth. 

How  his  lippes  grinned  wide, 

"  What  devil  is  this  f  "  the  king  cried. 

And  'gan  to  laugh  as  he  were  wode. 

"  What  1  is  Saracen's  flesh  thus  good  f 

That,  never  erst  I  nought  wist  I 

By  Godes  death  and  his  uprist. 

Shall  we  never  die  for  default. 

While  we  may  in  any  assault, 

Slee  Saracens,  the  flesh  may  take. 

And  seethen  and  roaston  and  do  hem  bake, 

{And!  Gnawen  her  flesh  to  the  bones  I 
fow  I  have  it  proved  once. 
For  hunger  ere  I  be  wo, 
I  and  my  folk  shall  eat  mo  I " 

The  besieged  now  offered  to  surrender,  upon  conditions  of  safety  to  the  inhabi- 
tants ;  while  all  the  public  treasure,  military  machines,  and  arms  were  deliv- 
ered to  the  victors,  together  with  the  further  ransom  of  one  hundred  thousand 
byzants.  After  this  capitulation,  the  following  extraordinary  scene  took  place. 
We  shall  give  it  in  the  words  of  the  humorous  and  amiable  George  Ellis,  the  col- 
lector and  the  editor  of  these  romances  :— 

Though  the  garrison  had  faithfully  performed  the  other  articles  of  their  con- 
tract, they  were  unable  to  restore  the  Cross,  which  was  not  in  their  possession, 
and  were  therefore  treated  by  the  Christians  with  great  cruelty.  Daily  reports 
of  their  sufferings  were  carried  to  Saladin  ;  and  as  many  of  them  were  persons 
of  the  highest  distinction,  that  monarch,  at  the  solicitation  of  their  friends,  dis- 
patched an  embassy  to  King  Richard  with  magnificent  presents,  which  he  offereu 
for  the  ransom  of  "the  captives.  The  ambassadors  were  persons  the  most  re- 
spectable from  their  age,  their  rank,  and  their  eloquence.  They  delivered  their 
message  in  terms  of  the  utmost  humility,  and,  without  arraigning  the  justice  of 
the  conqueror  in  his  severe  treatment  of  their  countrymen,  only  solicited  a  pe- 
riod to  that  severity,  laying  at  his  feet  the  treasures  with  which  they  were  In- 
trusted, and  pledging  themselves  and  their  master  for  the  payment  of  any  further 
sums  which  ne  might  demand  as  the  price  of  mercy. 

King  Richard  spake  with  wordes  mild, 
"  The  gold  t-o  take,  God  me  shield  ! 
Among  you  partes  every  charge. 
I  brought,  in  ahlppes  and  in  barge. 


TO  THE  TALISMAN  625 

More  gold  and  silver  with  me 

Than  has  your  lord,  and  swilke  three. 

To  his  treasure  have  I  no  need  I 

But  for  my  love  I  you  bid, 

To  meat  with  me  that  ye  dwell ; 

And  afterward  I  shall  you  tell. 

Thorough  counsel  I  sliall  you  answer. 

What  bode  ye  shall  to  your  lord  bear." 

The  invitation  was  gratefully  accepted.  Eichard,  in  the  mean  time,  g:ave  secret 
orders  to  his  marshal  that  he  should  repair  to  the  prison,  select  a  certain  number 
of  the  most  distinguished  captives,  and,  after  carefully  noting  their  names  on  a 
roll  of  parchment,  cause  their  heads  to  be  instantly  struck  off ;  that  these  heads 
should  be  delivered  to  tlie  cook  with  instructions  to  clear  away  the  hair,  and, 
after  boiling  them  in  a  caldron,  to  distribute  them  on  several  platters,  one  to 
each  guest,  observing  to  fasten  on  the  forehead  of  each  the  piece  of  parchment 
expressing  the  name  and  family  of  the  victim. 

"  An  hot  head  bring  me  beforn, 
As  I  were  well  apayed  withall, 
Eat  thereof  fast  I  shall. 
As  it  were  a  tender  chick. 
To  see  how  the  others  will  like." 

This  horrible  order  was  punctually  executed.  At  noon  the  guests  were  sum- 
moned to  wash  by  the  music  of  the  waits;  the  King  took  his  seat,  attended  by 
the  principal  officers  of  his  court,  at  the  high  table,  and  the  rest  of  tie  company 
were  marshaled  at  a  long  table  below  ;im  On  the  cloth  were  placed  portions 
of  salt  at  the  usual  distances,  but  neither  oread,  wine,  nor  water.  The  ambassa- 
dors, rather  surprised  at  this  omission,  but  still  free  from  apprehension,  awaited 
in  silence  the  arrival  of  the  dinner,  which  was  announced  by  the  sound  of  pipes, 
trumpets,  and  tabours  ;  and  beheld,  with  horror  and  dismay,  the  unnatural  ban- 
quet introduced  by  the  steward  and  his  officers.  Yet  their  sentiments  «f  disgust 
and  abhorrence,  and  even  their  fears,  were  for  a  time  suspended  by  their  cu- 
riosity. Their  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  King,  who,  without  the  slightest  change  of 
countenance,  swallowed  the  morsels  as  fast  as  they  could  be  supplied  by  the 
knight  who  carved  them. 

Every  man  then  poked  other ; 

They  said,  "  This  is  the  devil's  brother, 

That  slays  our  men,  and  thus  hem  eats  I  " 

Their  attention  was  then  involuntarily  fixed  on  the  smoking  heads  before 
them  ;  they  traced  in  the  swollen  and  distorted  features  the  resemblance  of  a 
friend  or  near  relation,  and  received  from  the  fatal  scroll  which  accompanied 
each  dish  the  sad  assurance  that  this  resemblance  was  not  imaginary.  They  sat 
in  torpid  silence,  anticipating  their  own  fate  in  that  of  their  countrymen,  while 
their  ferocious  entertainer,  with  fury  in  his  eyes,  but  with  courtesy  on  his  lips, 
insulted  them  by  frequent  invitations  to  merriment.  At  length  this  first  course 
was  removed,  and  its  place  supplied  by  venison,  cranes,  and  other  dainties,  ac- 
companied by  the  richest  wines.  The  King  then  apologized  to  them  for  what 
had  passed,  which  he  attributed  to  his  ignorance  of  their  taste ;  and  assured 
them  of  his  religious  respect  for  their  character  as  ambassadors,  and  of  his 
readiness  to  grant  them  a  safe-conduct  for  their  return.  This  boon  was  all  that 
they  now  vvished  to  claim  ;  and 

King  Richard  spake  to  an  old  man, 

"  Wendes  home  to  your  Soudan  1 

His  melancholy  that  ye  abate  ; 

And  sayes  that  ye  came  too  late. 

Too  slowly  was  your  time  y-guessed; 

Ere  ye  came,  the  flesh  was  dressed. 

That  men  shoulden  serve  with  me. 

Thus  at  noon,  and  my  meynie. 

Say  him,  it  shall  him  nought  avail. 

Though  he  for-bar  us  our  vitail, 

Bread,  wine,  fish,  flesh,  salmon,  and  conger ; 

Of  us  none  shall  die  of  hunger, 

While  we  may  wenden  to  fight. 

And  slay  the  Saracens  downright, 

"Wash  the  flesh,  and  roast  the  head. 

With  DO  Saracen  I  may  well  feed 


526  APPENDIX  TO  INTRODUCTION 

Well  a  nine  or  a  ten 

Of  my  good  Christian  men. 

King  Richard  shall  warrant, 

There  is  no  flesh  so  nourissant 

Unto  an  English  man, 

Partridge,  plover,  heron,  ne  swan. 

Cow  ne  ox,  sheep  ne  swine. 

As  the  head  of  a  Sarazyn. 

There  he  is  fat,  and  thereto  tender. 

And  my  men  be  lean  and  slender. 

While  any  Saracen  quick  be, 

Livand  now  in  this  Syrie, 

For  meat  will  we  nothing  care. 

Abouten  fast  we  shall  fare. 

And  every  day  we  shall  eat 

All  so  many  as  we  may  get. 

To  England  will  we  nought  gon 

Till  they  be  eaten  every  one."  * 

The  reader  may  be  curious  to  know  owing  to  what  circumstanw»  ^  tsxtraor- 
dinary  an  invention  as  that  which  imputed  cannabalism  to  the  King  of  England 
should  have  found  its  way  into  his  history.  Mr.  [G.  P.  Rainsford]  James,  to 
whom  we  owe  so  much  that  is  curious,  seems  to  have  traced  the  origin  of  this 
extraordinary  rumor. 

"  With  the  army  of  the  cross  also  was  a  multitude  of  men,"  the  same  author 
[Guibert]  declares,  "  who  made  it  a  profession  to  be  without  money  ;  they  walked 
barefoot,  carried  no  arms,  and  even  preceded  the  beasts  of  burden  in  the  march, 
living  upon  roots  and  herbs,  and  presenting  a  spectacle  both  disgusting  and 
pitiable.  A  Norman,  who  according  to  all  accounts  was  of  noble  birth,  but  who, 
having  lost  his  horse,  continued  to  follow  as  a  foot  soldier,  took  the  strange  res- 
olution of  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  this  race  of  vagabonds,  who  willingly 
received  him  for  their  king.  Amongst  the  Saracens  these  men  became  well 
known  under  the  name  of  Thafurs  (which  Guibert  translates  Trudentes),  and 
were  held  in  great  horror  from  the  general  persuasion  that  they  fed  on  the  dead 
bodies  of  their  enemies— a  report  which  was  occasionally  justified,  and  which 
the  king  of  the  Thafurs  took  care  to  encourage.  This  respectable  monarch  was 
frequently  in  the  habit  of  stopping  his  followers,  one  by  one,  in  any  narrow 
defile,  and  of  causing  them  to  be  searched  carefully,  lest  the  possession  of  the 
least  sum  of  money  should  render  them  unworthy  of  the  name  of  his  subjects. 
If  even  two  sous  were  found  upon  any  one,  he  was  instantly  expelled  the  society 

.^rJl^"*'®'  *^®  '''"^  bidding  him  contemptuously  buy  arms  and  fight. 
This  troop,  so  far  from  being  cumbersome  to  the  army,  was  infinitely  ser- 
viceable, carrymg  burdens,  bringing  in  forage,  provisions,  and  tribute,  working 
the  machmes  in  the  sieges,  and,  above  all,  spreading  consternation  among  the 
Turks,  who  feared  death  from  the  lances  of  the  knights  less  than  that  further 
consummation  they  heard  of  under  the  teeth  of  the  thafurs."  t 

It  is  easy  to  conceive,  that,  an  ignorant  minstrel,  finding  the  taste  and  ferocity 
of  the  Thafurs  commemorated  in  the  historical  accounts  of  the  Holy  wars,  has 
ascribed  their  practises  and  propensities  to  the  monarch  of  England,  whose 
ferocity  was  considered  as  an  object  of  exaggeration  as  legitimate  as  his  valor. 

•  Ellis's  Specimens  of  Early  English  Metrical  Romances,  vol.  U.  pp. 
t  JsuMs's  History  of  Chivalry,  led.  1880],  p.  ITS 


NOTES  TO  THE  TALISMAN 

Note  1.— The  Lee  Penny,  p.  viii 

At  a  meeting  oi  me  cicottish  Society  of  Antiquaries  (8th  April  1861),  an  interest- 
ing communication  "  On  some  Scottish  Magical  Chai-m-Stones,  or  Curing-Stones," 
was  read  by  the  late  Professor  Sir  James  Y.  Simpson,  Bart.,  when  the  Lee  Penny 
was  among  the  articles  exhibited.  In  his  paper  the  eminent  writer  observes, 
that  "In  the  present  century  this  ancient  medical  charm-stone  has  acquired  a 
world-wide  reputation  as  the  original  of  the  Talisman  of  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
though  latterly  its  therapeutic  reputation  has  greatly  declined,  and  almost  en- 
tirely ceased."— See  the  Proceedings,  vol.  iv.  p.  223  (Laing). 

[Original  later  edition.]  Since  the  last  sheet  of  this  volume  was  printed  off,  a 
kind  friend  has  transmitted  the  following  curious  document,  by  which  it  would 
appear  that  the  alleged  virtues  of  the  Lee  Penny  had  at  one  time  given  uneasi- 
ness to  our  Presbyterian  brethren  of  Clydesdale. 

(Copy) 

Extract  from  the  Assemblie  Books  at  Glasgow,  anent  the  Lee  Penny  stone. 

Apud  Glasgow,  21  of  October.* 

Synod.  Sess.  2 

QuHiLK  day,  amongest  the  referries  of  the  Brethren  of  the  Ministry  of  Lanark, 
It  was  proponed  to  the  Synod  that  Gavin  Hamilton  of  Raploch  had  pursueit  an 
Complaint  before  them  against  Sir  James  Lockhart  of  Lee,  anent  the  superstiti- 
ous using  of  an  Stone,  set  in  silver,  for  the  curing  of  deseased  Cattle,  qlk  the 
said  Gavin  affirmed  could  not  be  lawfully  usit,  and  that  they  had  deferrit  to 
give  ony  decisionne  thairin  till  the  advice  of  the  Assemblie  might  be  had  con- 
cerning the  same.  The  Assemblie  having  inquirit  of  the  manner  of  using  thereof, 
and  particularly  understood,  be  examination  of  the  said  Laird  of  Lee  and  other- 
wise, that  the  custom  is  only  to  cast  the  stone  in  some  water,  and  give  the  deseasit 
Cattle  thereof  to  drink,  and  that  the  same  is  done  without  using  any  words, 
such  as  Charmers  and  Sorcereirs  use  in  thair  unlawfull  practices  ;  and  consider- 
ing that  in  nature  thair  are  many  things  seen  to  work  strange  effects,  whereof 
no  human  wit  can  give  a  reason,  it  having  pleast  God  to  give  to  stones  and  herbs 
a  speciall  vertue  for  healing  of  many  infirmities  in  man  and  beast,  advises  the 
Brethren  to  surcease  thair  process,  as  therein  they  perceive  no  ground  of  Offence, 
and  admonishes  the  said  Laird  of  Lee,  in  the  using  of  the  said  stone,  to  take  held 
that  it  be  usit  hereafter  with  the  least  scandle  that  possibly  maybe.  Extract 
out  of  the  Books  of  the  Assemblie  holden  at  Glasgow,  and  subscribed  at  their 
command. 

M.  Robert  Young,  Clerk  to  the 
Assemblie  at  Glasgow. 

Note  2.— Gab,  Gaber,  p.  11 

This  French  word  signified  a  sort  of  sport  much  used  among  the  French 
chivalry,  which  consisted  in  vying  with  each  other  in  making  the  most  romantic 
gasconades.    The  verb  and  the  meaning  are  retained  in  Scottish. 

Note  3.— Giamschid,  p.  28 

[The  legend  is  generally  told  thus  :— Jamshid,  a  great  and  good  king  of  Persia, 
grew  proud  in  his  old  days  and  turned  a  terrible  tyrant.    The  people,  in  despair, 

*  The  year  is  unfortunately  not  given  ;  but  the  Sir  James  Lockhart  named  in 
the  extract  was  bom  in  1596  and  died  in  1674. 
587 


528  WAVEELET  NOVELS 

called  in  to  their  aid  Zohak,  a  king  who  ruled  on  the  western  confines  of  Persia, 
and  who  had  slain  his  own  father  {not  of  the  house  of  Jamshid).  Out  of  each 
shoulder  of  Zohak  there  grew  a  black  serpent,  which  he  fed  on  men's  brains. 
The  Persians  found  that  Zohak  was  as  great  a  tyrant  as  Jamshid,  and  at  last  a 
brave  blacksmith,  Kaweh  by  name,  called  all  the  people  together  in  the  market- 
place, put  his  leather  apron  on  a  spear,  as  a  sort  of  banner,  proclaimed  a  revolt 
against  Zohak,  and  made  Feridun,  great-grandson  of  Jamshid,  king  over  Persia 
in  that  king's  stead.] 

Note  4.— Hymn  to  Ahkiman,  p.  32 

The  worthy  and  learned  clergyman  by  whom  this  species  of  hymn  has  been 
translated  desires  that,  for  fear  of  misconception,  we  should  warn  the  reader  to 
recollect  that  it  is  composed  by  a  heathen,  to  whom  the  real  causes  of  moral  and 
'  evil  are  unknown,  and  who  views  their  predominance  in  the  system  of 
universe  as  all  must  view  that  appalling  fact  who  have  not  the  bene'fit  of  the 
Christian  revelation.  On  our  own  part,  we  beg  to  add,  that  we  understand  the 
style  of  the  translator  is  more  paraphrastic  than  can  be  approved  by  those  who 
are  acquainted  with  the  singularly  curious  original.  The  translator  seems  to 
have  despaired  of  rendering  into  English  verse  the  flights  of  oriental  poetry  ; 
and,  possibly,  like  many  learned  and  ingenious  men,  finding  it  impossible  to  dis- 
cover the  sense  of  the  original,  he  may  have  tacitly  substituted  his  own.  The 
gentle  and  candid  reader  may  believe  this  worthy  and  learned  clergyman  or  not, 
as  shall  be  most  pleasing  to  himself. 

Note  5.— Sib  Thomas  Multon  op  Gilsland,  p.  69 

He  was  a  historical  hero,  faithfully  attached,  as  is  here  expressed,  to  King 
Richard,  and  is  noticed  with  distinction  in  the  romance  mention&i  in  the  Intro- 
duction. At  the  beginning  of  the  romance,  mention  is  made  of  a  tournament, 
in  which  the  king  returns  three  times  with  a  fresh  suit  of  armor,  which  acted  as 
a  disguise  ;  and  at  each  appearance  some  knight  of  great  prowess  had  a  sharp 
encounter  with  him.  When  Richard  returned  the  second  time,  the  following  is 
Mr.  Ellis's  account  of  his  proceedings  ;— 

He  now  mounted  a  bay  horse,  assumed  a  suit  of  armor  painted  red.  and  a  hel- 
met, the  crest  of  which  was  a  red  hound,  with  a  long  tail  which  reached  to  the 
earth— an  emblem  intended  to  convey  his  indignation  against  the  heathen  hounds 
who  defiled  the  Holy  Land,  and  his  determination  to  attempt  their  destruction. 
Having  sufficiently  signalized  himself  in  his  new  disguise,  he  rode  into  the  ranks 
for  the  purpose  of  selecting  a  more  formidable  adversary  ;  and,  delivering  his 
spear  to  his  squire,  took  his  mace  and  assaulted  Sir  Thomas  de  Multon,  a  knight 
whose  prowess  was  deservedly  held  in  the  highest  estimation.  Sir  Thymas,  ap- 
parently not  at  all  disordered  by  a  blow  which  would  have  felled  a  common 
adversary,  calmly  advised  him  to  go  and  amuse  himself  elsewhere  ;  but  Richard 
having  aimed  at  nim  a  second  and  piore  violent  stroke,  by  which  his  helmet  was 
nearly  crushed,  he  returned  it  with  such  vigor  that  the  king  lost  his  stirrups. 
and,  recovering  himself  with  some  difficulty,  rode  off  with  all  speed  into  the 
forest.— Ellis's  Specimeiis,  p.  187. 

Note  6.— Assisses  de  Jerusalem,  p.  107 

The  Assisses  de  Jerusalem  were  the  digest  of  feudal  law,  composed  by  Godfrey 
of  Boulogne,  for  the  government  of  the  Latin  Kingdom  of  Palestine,  when  re- 
conquered from  the  Saracens.  It  was  composed  with  advice  of  "  the  patriarch 
and  barons,  of  the  clergy  and  laity,"  and  is,  says  the  historian  Gibbon,  "  a  precious 
monument  of  feudatory  jurisprudence,"  founded  upon  those  principles  of 
freedom  which  were  essential  to  the  system. 

Note  7.— Proposal  of  Marrl4GE,  p.  153 

This  may  appear  so  extraordinary  and  improbable  a  preposition,  that  It  Is 
necessary  to  say  such  a  one  was  actually  made.  The  historians,  however,  sub- 
stitute the  widowed  Queen  of  Naples,  sister  of  Richard,  for  the  bride,  and  Sala- 
din's  brother  for  the  bridegroom.  They  appear  to  have  been  ignorant  of  the 
existence  of  Edith  of  Plantagenet.— See  Mill's  History  of  the  Crusades,  vol.  ii.  p. 
61. 

Note  8.— Scots,  Fair  and  False,  p.  159 
8uob  wore  the  terms  In  which  the  English  used  to  speak  of  ttieir  poor  nortb*n> 


NOTES  TO  THE  TALISMAN  529 

neighbors,  forgetting  that  their  own  encroachments  upon  the  independence  of 
Scotland  obliged  the  weaker  nation  to  defend  themselves  by  policy  as  well  a3 
force  The  disgrace  must  be  divided  between  Edward  I.  and  III.,  who  enforced 
their  domination  over  a  free  country,  and  the  Scots  who  were  compelled  to  take 
compulsory  oaths  without  any  purpose  of  keeping  them. 

Note  9.— Montrose's  Lines,  p.  260 

In  this  extract  it  has  been  pointed  out  that  th?  Author,  quoting  from  memory, 
committed  originally  a  mistake  by  substituting  in  line  first  "  inconsistency," 
and  in  line  third  repeating  "  love,"  with  the  still  graver  error  of  giving  them  as 
"  Montrose's  Lines."  They  bear  such  a  striking  resemblance  to  Montrose's 
"New  Ballad  to  the  Tune  of  "  I'll  never  love  thee  more  "  as  to  render  this  quite 
excusable.  The  true  author  was  Richard  Lovelace,  in  his  collection,  Lucasta 
(1649),  in  a  song  addressed  to  his  mistress,  of  three  stanzas,  set  to  music,  on  his 
"  going  to  the  wars."    The  last  stanza  reads  thus— 

Yet  this  inconstancy  is  such, 

As  you  too  shall  adore  ; 
I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much, 

Lov'd  I  not  honor  more. 

In  like  manner,  Mr.  Mark  Napier,  in  his  Memoirs  of  Montrose,  complains  of 
the  quotation  at  the  head  of  chap.  xv.  of  A  Legend  of  Montrose,  but  Sir  Walter 
Scott  only  Uterally  copied  the  words  as  published  by  Ritson  in  1794  (Laing). 

Note  10.— Sir  Tristrem,  p.  260 

An  universal  tradition  ascribed  to  Sir  Tristrem,  famous  for  his  love  of  the  fair 
Queen  Yseult,  the  laws  concerning  the  practice  of  woodcraft,  or  venerie,  as  it 
was  called,  being  those  that  related  to  the  rules  of  the  chase,  which  were  deemed 
of  so  much  consequence  during  the  Middle  Ages. 

Note  11.— Death  of  Grand  Master,  p.  310 

The  manner  of  the  death  of  the  supposed  Grand  Master  of  the  Templars  was 
taken  from  the  real  tragedy  enacted  by  Saladin  upon  tlie  person  of  Arnold  or 
Reginald  de  Chatillon.  This  person,  a  soldier  of  fortune,  had  seized  a  castle  on 
the  verge  of  the  desert,  from  whence  he  made  plundering  excursions,  and  in- 
sulted and  abused  the  pilgrims  who  were  on  their  journey  to  Mecca.  It  was 
chiefly  on  his  account  that  Saladin  declared  war  against  Guy  de  Lusignan,  the 
last  Latin  king  of  the  Holy  Land.  The  Christian  monarch  was  defeated  by 
Saladin  with  the  loss  of  30,000  men,  and  having  been  made  prisoner,  with  Chatillon 
and  others,  was  conducted  before  the  Soldan.  The  victor  presented  to  his  ex- 
hausted captive  a  cup  of  sherbet,  cooled  in  snow.  Lusignan,  having  drank,  was 
about  to  hand  the  cup  to  Chatillon,  when  the  Soldan  interfered.  "  Your  person," 
he  said,  "  my  royal  prisoner,  is  sacred,  but  the  cup  of  Saladin  must  not  be  pro- 
faned by  a  blasphemous  robber  and  ruffian."  So  saying,  he  slew  the  captiTO 
knight  by  a  blow  of  his  scimitar.— See  Gibbon's  History,  xL  p.  129,  ed.  1880. 


APPENDICES  TO  INTRODUCTION" 

TO 

CASTLE  DANGEROUS 


No.  I 

Extracts  from  Tlie  History  of  the  Houses  of  Douglas  and  Angus 
By  Mast  r  David  Hume  of  Godscrof t.    Fol.  Edit. 

And  here  indeed  the  course  of  the  King's  misfortunes  begins  to  make  some  halt 
and  stay  by  thus  much  prosperous  success  in  his  own  person,  but  more  in  the 
person  of  Sir  James,  by  the  recouquests  of  his  owne  castles  and  countries.  From 
hence  he  went  into  Douglasdale,  where,  by  the  means  of  his  father's  old  servant, 
Thomas  Dickson,  he  took  in  the'Castle  of  Douglas,  and  not  being  able  to  keep  it, 
he  caused  burn  it,  contenting  himself  with  this,  that  his  enemies  hiid  one  strength 
fewer  in  that  countrey  than  before.  The  manner  of  his  taking  of  it  is  said  to 
have  beene  thus  : — Sir  James,  taking  onely  with  him  two  of  his  servants,  went  to 
Thomas  Dickson,  of  whom  he  was  received  with  tears,  after  he  had  revealed  liiiii- 
selfe  to  him,  for  the  good  old  man  knew  him  not  at  first,  being  in  meane  and 
homely  apparell.  There  he  kept  him  secretly  in  a  quiet  chamber,  and  brought 
unto  him  such  as  had  beene  trusty  servants  to  his  father,  not  all  at  once,  but 
apart  by  one  and  one,  for  feare  of  discoverie.  Their  advice  was,  that  on  Palm- 
sunday,  when  the  English  would  come  forth  to  the  church,  being  a  solemne  holi- 
day, he  with  his  two  servants  should  come  thither  apparelled  like  countrey 
taskers,  with  mantles  to  cover  their  armour,  and  when  he  should  perceive  that 
the  English  were  in  the  church,  and  his  partners  were  conveened,  that  then  he 
should  give  the  word,  and  cry  the  Douglas  slogan,  and  presently  set  upon  them 
that  should  happen  to  be  there,  who  being  despatched,  the  castle  might  be  taken 
easily.  This  being  concluded,  and  they  come,  so  soon  as  the  English  were  entred 
into  the  church  with  palms  in  their  hands  (according  to  the  custome  of  that 
day),  little  suspecting  or  fearing  any  such  thing,  Sir  James,  according  to  their 
appointment,  cryed  too  soone  (a  Douglas,  a  Douglas  !)  which  being  heard  in  the 
church  (this  was  St.  Bride's  church  of  Douglas),  Thomas  Dickson,  supposing  he 
had  beene  hard  at  hand,  drew  out  his  sword,  and  ran  upon  them,  having  none  to 
second  him  but  another  man,  so  that,  oppressed  with  the  multitude  of  his  ene- 
mies, he  was  beaten  downe  and  slaiue.  In  the  meanetime.  Sir  James  being  come, 
the  English  that  were  in  the  chancel  kept  off  the  Scots,  and.  having  the  advantage 
of  the  strait  and  narrow  entrie,  defended  themselves  manfully.  But  Sir  James 
encouraging  his  men,  not  so  much  by  words  as  by  deeds  and  good  example,  and 
having  slain  the  boldest  resisters,  prevailed  at  last,  and,  entring  the  place,  slew- 
some  twenty-six  of  their  number,  and  tooke  the  rest,  about  ten  or  twelve  per- 
sons, intend'ing  by  them  to  get  the  castle  upon  composition,  or  to  enter  with  them 
when  the  gates  should  be  opened  to  let  them  in  ;  but  it  needed  not,  for  they  of 
the  castle  were  so  secure,  tlaat  there  was  none  left  to  keepe  it  save  the  porter  and 
the  cooke,  who,  knowing  nothing  of  what  had  hapned  at  the  church,  which  stood 
a  large  quarter  of  a  mile  from  thence,  had  left  the  gate  ivide  open,  the  porter 
standing  without,  and  the  cooke  dressing  the  dinner  within.  They  entred  with- 
out resistance,  and  meat  being  ready,  and  the  cloth  laid,  they  shut  the  gates,  and 
tooke  their  refection  at  good  leasure. 

Now  that  he  had  gotten  the  castle  into  his  hands,  considering  with  himself  (as 
he  was  a  man  no  lesse  advised  than  valiant  I  that  it  was  hard  for  him  to  keep  it, 
the  English  being  as  yet  the  stronger  in  that  ccuntrey,  who  if  they  should  besiege 
him,  he  knew  of  no  feliefe,  he  thought  better  to  carry  away  such  thines  as  be 
most  easily  transported,  gold,  silver,  and  apparell,  with  ammunition  and  armour, 
530 


APPENDIX  TO  INTRODUCTION  531 

whereof  he  had  greatest  use  and  need,  and  to  destroy  the  rest  of  the  provision, 
together  with  the  castle  itselfe,  than  to  diminish  the  number  of  his  followers  for 
a  garrison  there  where  they  could  do  no  good.  And  so  he  caused  carrie  the 
meale  and  malt,  and  other  cornes  and  graine,  into  the  cellar,  and  layd  all 
together  in  one  heape  ;  then  he  took  the  prisoners  and  slew  them,  to  revenge  the 
death  of  his  trustie  and  valiant  servant,  Thomas  Dickson,  mingling  the  victuals 
with  their  bloud,  and  burying  their  carcasses  in  the  heap  of  corne  ;  after  that  he 
struck  out  the  heads  of  the  barrells  and  puncheons,  and  let  the  drink  runne 
through  all ;  and  then  he  cast  the  carkasses  of  dead  horses  and  other  carrion 
amongst  it,  throwing  the  salt  above  all,  so  to  make  altogether  unusefull  to  the 
enemie  ;  and  this  cellar  is  called  yet  the  Douglas  Lairder.  Last  of  all,  he  set  the 
house  on  fire,  and  burnt  all  the  timber,  and  what  else  the  Are  could  overcome, 
leaving  nothing  but  the  scorched  walls  behind  him.  And  this  seemes  to  be  the 
first  taking  of  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  for  it  is  supposed  that  he  took  it  twice.  For 
this  service,  and  others  done  to  Lord  William  his  father,  Sir  James  gave  unto 
Thomas  Dickson  the  lands  of  Hisleside,  which  hath  beene  given  him  before  the 
castle  was  taken  as  an  encouragement  to  whet  him  on,  and  not  after,  for  he  was 
slaine  in  the  church  ;  which  was  both  liberally  and  wisely  done  of  him,  thus  to 
hearten  and  draw  men  to  his  service  by  such  a  noble  beginning.  The  castle  being 
burnt,  Sir  James  retired,  and  parting  his  men  into  divers  companies,  so  as  they 
might  be  most  secret,  he  caused  cure  such  as  were  wounded  in  the  flght,  and  he 
himselfe  kept  as  close  as  he  could,  waiting  ever  for  an  occasion  to  enterprise 
something  against  the  enemie.  So  soone  as  he  was  gone,  the  Lord  Clifford  being 
advertised  of  what  had  happened,  came  himselfe  in  person  to  Douglas,  and 
caused  re-edifle  and  repair  the  castle  in  a  very  short  time,  unto  which  he  also 
added  a  tower,  which  is  yet  called  Harries  Tower  from  him,  and  so  returned  into 
England,  leaving  one  Thruswall  to  be  captain  thereof.  .      . 

He  (Sir  James  Douglas)  therefore,  getting  him  into  Douglasdale,  aid  use  this 
stratagem  against  Thruswall,  Captaine  of  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  un:ler  the  Lori 
Clifford.  Hee  caused  some  of  his  folkes  drive  away  the  cattell  that  fed  neare 
unto  the  castle,  and  when  the  captaine  of  the  garrison  followed  to  rescue,  gave 
orders  to  his  men  to  leave  them  and  to  flee  away.  Thus  he  did  often  to  make  the 
captaine  to  slight  such  frayes,  and  to  make  him  secure,  that  he  might  not  sus- 
pect any  further  end  to  be  in  it ;  which  when  he  had  wrought  sufficiently  (as  he 
thought,)  he  laid  some  men  in  ambuscado,  and  sent  others  away  to  drive  away 
such  beasts  as  they  should  flnde  in  the  view  of  the  castle,  as  if  they  had  been 
theeves  and  robbers,  as  they  had  done  often  before.  The  captaine  hearing  of  it, 
and  supposing  there  was  no  greater  danger  now  then  had  beene  before,  issued 
forth  of  the  castle,  and  followed  after  them  with  such  haste  that  his  men 
(running  who  should  be  first)  were  disordered  and  out  of  their  ranks.  The 
drivers  also  fled  as  fast  as  they  could  till  they  had  drawne  the  captaine  a  little 
beyond  the  place  of  the  ambuscado,  which  when  they  perceived,  rising  quickly 
out  of  their  covert,  set  fiercely  upon  him  and  his  companie,  and  so  slew  himselfe 
and  chased  his  men  back  to  the  castle,  some  of  which  were  overtaken  and  slaine, 
others  got  into  the  castle  and  so  were  saved.  Sir  James,  not  being  able  to  force 
the  house,  took  what  bootie  he  could  get  without  in  the  fields,  and  so  departed. 
By  this  means,  and  such  other  exploits,  he  so  affrighted  the  enemie,  that  it  was 
counted  a  matter  of  such  great  jeopardie  to  keepe  this  castle,  which  began  to  be 
called  the  adventurous  (or  hazzardous)  Castle  of  Douglas.  Whereupon  Sir  John 
Walton  being  in  suit  of  an  English  lady,  she  wrote  to  him  that  when  he  had  kept 
the  adventurous  Castle  of  Douglas  seven  yeares,  then  he  might  think  himselfe 
worthy  to  be  a  sutor  to  her.  Upon  this  occasion,  Walton  tooke  upon  him  the 
keeping  of  it,  and  succeeded  to  Thruswall :  but  he  ran  the  same  fortune  with  the 
rest  that  were  before  him. 

For,  Sir  James  having  first  dressed  an  ambuscado  near  unto  the  place,  he  made 
fourteen  of  his  men  take  so  many  sacks,  and  fil  them  with  grasse,  as  though  it 
had  been  corn,  which  they  carried  in  the  way  toward  Lanerik,  the  chief  market- 
town  in  that  county  ;  so  hoping  to  draw  forth  the  captain  by  that  bait,  and  either 
to  take  him  or  the  castle,  or  both. 

Neither  was  this  expectation  frustrate,  for  the  captain  did  bite,  and  came  forth 
to  have  taken  this  victuall(as  he  supposed).  But  ere  he  could  reach  these  car- 
riers. Sir  James,  with  his  company,  had  gotten  between  the  castle  and  him  ;  and 
these  disguised  carriers,  seeing  the  captain  following  after  them,  did  q  uickly  cast 
off  their  upper  garments,  wherein  they  had  masked  themselves,  and  throwing  off 
their  sacks,  mounted  themselves  on  horseback,  and  met  the  captain  with  a  sharp 
encounter,  being  so  much  the  more  amazed  as  it  was  unlooked  for  ;  wherefore, 
when  he  saw  these  carriers  metamorphosed  into  warriours,  and  ready  to  assault 
him,  fearing  that  which  was,  that  there  was  some  train  laid  for  them,  he  turned 
about  to  have  retired  to  the  castle  ;  but  there  also  hee  met  with  his  enemies  ; 
between  which  two  companies  he  and  his  whole  followers  were  slain,  so  that  none 
escaped  ;  the  captain  afterwards  being  searched,  they  found  (as  it  is  reported) 
his  mistress's  letters  about  him.  Then  hee  went  and  tooke  in  the  castle,  but  it  is 
uncertain  (say  our  writers)  whether  by  force  or  composition  ;  but  it  seems  that 


532 


APPENDIX  TO  INTRODUCTION 


the  Constable,  and  those  that  were  within,  have  yeelded  it  up  without  force: 
in  regard  that  hee  used  them  so  gently,  which  he  would  not  have  done  if  he  had 
taken  it  at  utterance.  For  he  sent  them  all  safe  home  to  the  Lord  Clifford,  and 
gave  them  also  provision  and  mony  for  their  entertainment  by  the  way.  The 
castle,  which  he  had  burnt  onely  before,  now  he  razeth,  and  casts  down  the 
walls  thereof  to  the  ground.  By  these  and  the  like  proceedings,  within  a  sliort 
while  he  freed  Douglasdale,  Attrick  Forrest,  and  Jedward  Forrest  of  the  English 
garrisons  and  subjection.— Pages  26-30. 


No.  II. 

Extracts  from— TZie  Bruce— Liher  Compositus  per  Magistrvm 
Johannem  Barber,  Archidiaconmim  Abyrdonensevi,  de  Gestis, 
Bellis,  et  Virtutibus,  Domini  Roberti  Brwyss,  Regis  Scocie  Illus- 
irissimi,  et  de  Conquestu  Regni  Scocie  per  eundevi,  et  de  Doviino 
Jacobo  de  Douglas.  Edited  by  John  Jamieson,  D.D.,  F.R.S.E. 
etc.,  etc.     Edinburgh,  1820. 


Now  takis  James  his  wiage 
Towart  Dowglas,  his  heretage, 
With  twa  yemen,  for  owtyn  ma  ; 
That  wes  a  symple  stuff  to  ta, 
A  land  or  a  castell  to  wyn. 
The  quhethir  he  yarnyt  to  begyn 
Till  bring  purposs  till  ending  ; 
For  gud  help  is  in  gud  begynnyng 
For  gud  begynnyng,  and  hardy, 
Gyff  it  be  f olovvit  wittily. 
May  ger  oftsyss  unlikly  thing 
Cum  to  full  conabill  ending. 
Swa  did  it  here  :  but  he  wes  wyss 
And  saw  he  mycht,  on  nakyn  wyss, 
Werray  his  fa  with  ewyn  mycht ; 
Tharfor  he  thocht  to  wyrk  with  slycht. 
And  in  Dowglas  daile,  his  covintr6. 
Upon  an  ewynnyug  entryt  he. 
And  than  a  man  wonnyt  tharby, 
That  was  off  f  reyndis  weill  mychty. 
And  ryche  of  moble,  and  off  cateill, 
And  had  bene  till  his  fadyr  leyll ; 
And  till  him  selff,  in  his  yowthed. 
He  haid  done  mony  a  thankf  uU  deid. 
Thom  Dicson  wes  his  name  perfay 
T.=ll  him  he  send  ;  and  gan  him  pray. 
That  he  wald  cum  all  anerly 
For  to  spek  with  him  priuely. 
And  he  but  daunger  till  him  gals  : 
Bot  fra  he  tauld  him  quhat  he  wais, 
He  gret  for  joy,  and  for  pit6  ; 
And  him  rycht  till  his  houss  had  he  ; 
Quliar  in  a  chambre  priuely 
He  held  him,  and  his  cumpany. 
That  nane  had  off  him  persawing. 
Off  mete,  and  drynk,  and  othyr  thing. 
That  mycht  thaim  eyss,  thai  had  plent6 
Sa  wrocht  he  throw  suteltB, 
That  all  the  lele  men  off  that  land, 
Tliat  with  his  fadyr  war  duelland. 
This  gud  man  gert  cum,  ane  and  ane. 
And  mak  him  manrent  euir  likane  ; 
And  he  him  selff  f  yrst  homage  maid. 
Dowglass  in  hart  gret  glaidschip  haid, 
That  the  gud  men  off  his  cuntrS 
Wald  swagate  till  him  bundyn  be. 
He  speryt  the  conwyne  off  the  land, 
And  quha  the  castell  had  in  hand. 
And  thai  him  tauld  all  halily ; 


And  syne  amang  them  priuely 
f  hai  ordanyt,  that  he  still  suld  be 
In  hidtlillis,  and  in  priwete. 
Till  Palme  Sonday,  that  wes  ner  hand. 
The  thrid  day  ef tyr  folowand. 
For  than  the  folk  off  that  countr6 
Assemblyt  at  the  kyrk  wald  be  ; 
And  th<*i,  that  in  the  castell  wer, 
Wald  als  be  thar,  thar  palmys  to  ber, 
As  folk  that  had  na  dreid  off  ill ; 
For  thai  thoucht  all  wes  at  thair  will. 
Than  suld  he  cum  with  his  twa  men. 
Bot  for  that  men  suld  nocht  him  ken. 
He  suld  ane  mantill  haiff  auld  and  bar, 
And  a  tlaill,  as  he  a  thresscher  war. 
Wndyr  the  mantill  nocht  for  thi 
He  suld  be  armyt  priuely. 
And  quhen  the  men  off  his  countr6, 
That  suld  all  boune  befor  him  be. 
His  ensenye  mycht  her  hym  cry. 
Then  suld  thai,  full  enforcely, 
Ryclit  yinyddys  the  kyrk  assaill 
The  Ingliss  men  with  hard  bataill, 
Swa  that  nane  mycht  eschap  tham  fra  ; 
For  thar  throvvch  trowyt  thai  to  ta 
The  castell,  that  besid  wes  ner. 
And  quhen  this,  that  I  tell  you  her, 
Wes  diuisyt,  and  wndertane, 
Ilkane  till  his  howss  hame  is  gane  ; 
And  held  this  spek  in  priuetS, 
Till  the  day  off  thar  assembly. 

The  folk  upon  the  Sonounday 
Held  to  Saynct  Bridis  kyrk  thair  way  , 
And  tha  that  in  the  castell  war 
Tschyt  owt,  bath  les  and  mar. 
And  went  thair  palyms  for  to  ber ; 
Owtane  a  cuk  and  a  porter. 
James  off  Dowglas  off  thair  cummyng, 
And  quhat  thai  war,  had  witting  ; 
And  sped  him  till  the  kyrk  in  hy. 
Bot  or  lie  come,  too  hastily 
Aneoff  hiscriyt,  "  Dowglas!  Dowglas!  " 
Thomas  Dikson,  that  nerrest  was 
Till  thaim  that  war  off  the  castell. 
That  war  all  innouth  the  chancell, 
Quhen  he  "  Douglas  1  "  swa  hey  herd 

cry. 
Drew  owt  his  swerd  ;  and  f  ellely 


fO  CASTLE  DA  NGEROVS 


533 


Ruschyt  amang  thaim  to  and  fra. 
Bot  ane  or  twa,  for  owtyn  ma, 
Than  in  hj'  war  left  lyand. 
Quhill  Dowglas  come  rycht  at  hand, 
And  then  enforcyt  on  thaim  the  cry. 
Bot  thai  the  chansell  sturdely 
Held,  and  thaim  defendyt  wele, 
Till  ofC  thair  men  war  slayne  sumdell. 
Bot  the  Dowglace  sa  weill  him  bar. 
That  all  the  men,  that  with  him  war, 
Had  comfort  oflE  his  wele  doyng  ; 
And  he  him  sparyt  nakyn  thing. 
But  prowyt  swa  his  force  in  fyclit, 
That  throw  his  worschip  and  his  mycht 
His  men  sa  keynly  helpyt  than. 
That  thai  the  chansell  on  thaim  wan. 
Than  dang  thai  on  swa  hardyly. 
That  in  schort  tyme  men  mycht  se  ly 
The  twa  part  dede,  or  then  deand. 
The  lave  war  sesyt  sone  in  hand, 
Swa  that  off  thretty  levyt  nane. 
That  thai  ne  war  slayne  ilkan,  or  tane. 

James  off  Dowglas,  quhen  this  wes 

done. 
The  presoneris  has  he  tane  alsone  ; 
And.  with  thaim  off  his  cumpany, 
Towart  the  castell  went  in  hy. 
Or  noyiss  or  cry  suld  ryss. 
And  for  he  wald  thaim  sone  suppriss, 
That  lewyt  in  the  castell  war. 
That  war  but  twa  for  owtyn  mar, 
Fyve  men  or  sex  befor  send  he, 
That  faud  all  opyn  the  entr6  ; 
And  entryt,  and  the  porter  tuk 
Rycht  at  the  gate,  and  syne  the  cuk. 
With  that  Dowglas  come  to  the  yat, 
And  entryt  in  for  owtyn  debate  ; 
And  fand  the  mete  all  redy  grathit. 
With  burdys  set,  and  clathis  layit. 
The  yhaitis  then  he  gert  sper. 
And  sat,  and  eyt  all  at  layser. 
Syne  all  the  gudis  turssyt  thai 
That  thaim  thocht  thai    mycht  haiff 

away  ; 
And  namly  wapnys,  and  armyng, 
Siluer,  and  tresour,  and  clethyng. 
Wyctallis,  that  mycht  nocht  tursyt  be, 
On  this  maner  destroyit  he. 
All  the  wictalis,  owtane  salt, 
Als  quheyt,  and  flour,  and  meill,  and 

malt 
In  the  wyne  sellar  gert  he  bring  ; 
And  samyn  on  the  flur  all  flyng. 
And  the  presoneris  that  he  had  tane 
Rycht  thar  in  gert  he  held  ilkane  ; 
Syne  off  the  townnys  he  hedis  outstrak  ; 
A  foule  mellS  thar  gane  he  mak. 
For    meile,  and  malt,  and  blud,  and 

wyne. 
Ran  all  to  gidder  in  a  mellyne, 
That  was  wnsemly  for  to  se. 
Tharfor  the  men  off  that  countr6 
For  swa  fele  thar  mellyt  wer, 
Callit  it  the  "  Dowglas  Lardner." 
Syne  tuk  he  salt,  as  Ic  hard  tell. 
And  ded  horss,  and  sordid  the  well ; 
And  brynt  all,  owtakyn  stane  ; 
And  is  forth,  with  his  menye,  gayne 
Till  his  resett :  for  him  thoucht  weill, 
Giff  he  had  haldyn  the  castell, 
It  had  bene  assegyt  raith  ; 


And    that    him     thoucht     to     mekil 

waith. 
For  he  ue  had  hop  off  reskewyng. 
And  it  is  to  peralous  thing 
In  casteil  assegyt  to  be, 
Quhar  want  is  off  thir  thingis  thre— 
Victaill,  or  men  with  thair  armyng. 
Or  than  gud  hop  oft'  rescuyng. 
And  for  he  dred  thir  thingis  suld  faile, 
He  chesyt  furthwart  to  trawaill, 
Quhar  he  mycht  at  his  larges  be  ; 
And  swa  dry ve  furth  his  destan6. 

On  this  wise  was  the  castell  tan, 
And  slayne  that  war  tharin  ilkan. 
The  Dowglas  syne  all  his  menye 
Gert  in  ser  placis  depertyt  be  ; 
For  men  suld  wyt  quhar  thai  war. 
That  yeid  depertyt  her  and  thar. 
Thaim  that  war  woundyt  gert  he  ly 
In  till  hiddillis,  all  priuely  ; 
And  gert  gud  leechis  till  thaim  bring 
Quhill  that  thai  war  in  till  heling. 
And  him  selff,  with  a  few  menye, 
Quhile  ane,  quhile  twa,  and  quhil  thre. 
And  wmquhill  all  him  allane. 
In  hiddillis  throw  the  land  is  gane. 
Sa  dred  he  Inlgis  men  his  mycht. 
That  he  durst  nocht  wele  cum  in  sycht. 
For  thai  war  that  tyme  all  weldand 
As  maist  lordis,  our  all  the  land. 

Bot  tythandis,  that  scalis  sone, 
Off  this  deid  that  Dowglas  has  done 
Come  to  the  Cliffurd  his  ere,  in  hy, 
That  for  his  tynsaill  wes  sary  ; 
And    menyt   his    men  that    thai  had 

slayne. 
And  syne  has  to  purpos  tane. 
To  big  the  castell  wp  agayne. 
Thar  for,  as  man  of  mekill  mayne. 
He  assemblit  gret  cumpany. 
And  till  Dowglas  he  went  in  hy. 
And  biggyt  wp  the  castell  swyth  ; 
And  maid  it  rycht  stalwart  and  styth 
And  put  tharin  wictallis  and  men. 
Ane  off  the  Thyrwallys  then 
He  left  behind  him  capitane. 
And  syne  till  Ingland  went  agayne. 
Book  IV.  25" 


BoT  yeit  than  James  of  Dowglas 
In  Dowglas  Daile  trawailland  was  ; 
Or  ellys  weill  ner  hand  tharby. 
In  hyddillys  sumdeill  priuely. 
For  he  wald  se  his  gouernyng 
That  had  the  castell  in  keping  : 
And  gert  mak  mony  juperty. 
To  se  quhethyr  he  wald  ische  blythly 
And  quhen  he  persawyt  that  he 
Wald  blythly  ische  with  his  menye, 
He  maid  a  gadring  priuely 
Off  thaim  that  war  on  his  party  ; 
That  war  sa  fele,  that  thai  durst  fycht 
With  Thyrwall,  and  all  the  mycht 
Off  thaim  that  in  the  castell  war. 
He  schupe  him  in  the  nycht  to  far 
To  Sandylandis  ;  and  thar  ner  by- 
He  him  enbuschyt  priuely. 
And  send  a  few  a  trane  to  ma  ; 
That  sone  in  the  mornyng  gan  ga, 
And  tuk  oatell,  that  wes  the  castell  by, 


534 


APPENDIX  TO  INTRODUCTION 


And  syne  withdrew  thaim  hastily 
Towart  thaim  that  enbuschit  war. 
Than  Thyrwall,  for  owtyn  mar, 
Gert  arms  his  men,  forowtyn  baid  ; 
And  ischyt  with  all  the  men  he  haid  : 
And  folowyt  fast  eftir  the  cry. 
He  wes  armyt  at  poynt  clenly, 
Owtaue  [that]  his  hede  wes  bar. 
Than,  with  the  men  that  with  him  war, 
The  cateil  folowit  he  gud  speid, 
Rycht  as  a  man  that  had  na  dreid, 
TiU  that  he  gat  off  thaim  a  sycht. 
Than  prekyt  that  with  all  thar  mycht, 
Folowand  thaim  owt  off  aray  ; 
And    thai    sped    thaim    tteand,  quhil 

thai 
Far  by  thair  buschement  war  past  : 
And  Thyrwall  ay  chassyt  fast. 
And  than  thai  that  enbuschyt  war 


Ischyt  till  him,  bath  les  and  mar, 
And  rayssyt  sudanly  the  cry 
And  thai  that  saw  sa  sudandly 
That  folk  come  egyrly  prikand 
Rycht  betuix  thaim  and  thair  warand, 
Thai  war  in  to  full  gret  effray. 
And,  for  thai  war  owt  ofE  aray. 
Sum  off  thaim  fled,  and  sum  abad, 
And  Dowglas,  that  thar  with  him  had 
A  great  mengye,  full  egreJy 
Assaylyt,  and  scalyt  thaim  hastyly  : 
And  in  schort    tyme    ourraid    thaim 

swa. 
That  weile  nane  eschapyt  thaim  fra. 
Thyrwall,  that  wes  thair  capitane, 
Wes  thar  in  the  bargane  slane, 
And  off  his  men  the  mast  party. 
The  lave  fled  full  effray  tly. 

Book  V.  7-6?, 


NOTES  TO  CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Note  1.— Castle  of  Douglas,  p.  320 

The  following  notice  of  Douglas  Castle,  etc.,  is  from  the  Description  of  the 
Sheriffdom  of  Lanark,  hy  William  Hamilton  of  Wishaw,  written  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  18th  century,  and  printed  by  the  Maitland  Club  of  Glasgow  in  1831  :— 

Douglas  parish,  and  baronie  and  lordship,  heth  very  long  appertained  to  the 
family  of  Douglass,  and  coscinued  with  the  Earles  of  Douglass  until  their  fatall 
forfeiture,  auno  1455  ;  during  which  tyme  there  are  many  noble  and  important 
actions  recorded  in  histories  performed  by  them,  by  the  lords  and  earls  of  that 
great  family.  It  was  thereafter  given  to  Douglass  Earl  of  Anguse,  and  continued 
with  them  until  William  Earle  of  Anguse  was  created  Marquess  of  Douglass, 
anno  1633  ;  and  is  now  the  principal  seat  of  the  Marquess  of  Douglass  his  family. 
It  is  a  large  baronie  and  parish,  and  ane  laick  patronage,  and  the  Marquess  is 
both  titular  and  patron.  He  heth  thei-e,  near  to  the  church,  a  very  considerable 
great  house,  called  the  Castle  of  Douglass  ;  and  near  the  church  is  afyne  village, 
called  the  town  of  Douglass,  long  since  erected  in  a  burgh  of  baronie.  It  heth 
ane  hansome  church,  with  many  ancient  monuments  and  inscriptions  on  the  old 
interments  of  the  earles  of  this  place. 

The  water  of  Douglas  runs  quyte  through  the  whole  length  of  this  parish,  and 
upon  either  syde  of  the  water  it  is  called  Douglas  Dale.  It  toucheth  Clyde  tow- 
ards the  north,  and  is  bounded  by  Lesmahagow  to  the  west,  Kyle  to  the  south- 
west, Crawfurd  John  and  Carmichaell  to  the  south  and  southeast.  It  is  a  pleas- 
ant strath,  plentifuU  in  grass  and  corne,  and  coall ;  and  the  minister  is  well  pro- 
vyded. 

The  lands  of  Heyslesyde,  belonging  to  Samuel  Douglass,  has  a  good  house  and 
pleasant  seat  close  by  a  wood,  etc.— Pp.  64,  65  (Lockhart). 

Note  2.— John  Loudon  MacAdam,  p.  323 

John  Loudon  MacAdam,  a  great  improver  of  public  roads,  was  awarded  [1827] 
by  Parliament  the  sum  of  £10,000  and  made  surveyor  of  the  Metropolitan  roads  ; 
died  1836  (Laing). 

Note  3.— Hazblside,  p.  340 

Hazelside  Place,  the  fief  granted  to  Thomas  Dickson  by  WilHam  the  Hardy, 
seventh  Lord  Douglas,  is  still  pointed  out  about  two  miles  to  the  southwest  of 
the  Castle  Dangerous.  Dickson  was  sixty  years  of  age  at  the  time  when  Lord 
James  first  appeared  in  Douglas  Dale.  His  heirs  kept  possession  of  the  fief  for 
centuries  ;  and  some  respectable  gentlemen's  families  in  Lanarkshire  still  tracfl 
themselves  to  this  ancestor  [Note  by  Mr.  Hadclow). 

Note  4.— Maker  or  TROinfEUR,  p.  350 

The  name  of  maker  stands  for  poet  (with  the  original  sense  of  which  word  it 
exactly  corresponds)  in  the  old  Scottish  language.  That  of  trouveur  or  trouba- 
dour—finder,  in  short— has  a  similar  meaning,  and  almost  in  every  country  the 
poetical  tribes  have  been  graced  with  the  same  epithets,  inferring  the  property 
of  those  who  employ  invention  or  creation. 

Note  5.— Sir  Tristrem,  p.  361 

•The  metrical  romance  of  Sir  Tristrem.  first  published  by  Sir  W^alter  Scott  in 
1804,  who  ascribed  it  to  Thomas  of  Ercildoune,  called  the  Rhymer  {Laing). 

Note  6.— Wild  Cattle,  p.  375 

These  bulls  are  thus  described  by  Hector  Boetius,  concerning  which  he  says  :— 

In  this  wood  (namely  the  Caledonian  wood>  were  sometime  white  bulls  with 
535 


536  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

crisp  and  curling  manes,  like  fierce  lions  ;  and  though  they  seemed  meek  and 
tame  in  the  remanent  figure  of  their  bodies,  they  were  more  wild  than  any  other 
beasts,  and  had  such  hatred  against  the  seciety  and  company  of  men,  that  they 
came  never  in  the  woods  nor  lesuries  where  they  found  any  foot  or  hand  thereof, 
and  many  days  after  they  eat  not  of  the  herbs  that  were  touched  or  handled  by 
man.  These  bulls  were  so  wiid,  that  they  were  never  taken  but  slight  and  crafty 
labor,  and  so  impatient,  that  after  they  were  taken  they  died  from  insupport- 
able dolour.  As  soon  as  any  man  invaded  these  bulls,  they  rushed  with  such 
terrible  press  upon  him  that  they  struck  him  to  the  earth,  taking  no  fear  of 
hounds,  sharp  lances,  or  other  most  penetrative  weapons.— Boetius,  Chron.  Scot., 
vol.  i.  p.  xxxix. 

The  wild  cattle  of  this  breed,  which  are  now  only  known  in  one  manor  in  Eng- 
land, that  of  Chillingham  Castle  in  Northumberland  (the  seat  of  the  Earl  of 
Tankerville),  were,  in  the  memory  of  man,  still  preserved  in  three  places  in  Scot- 
land, namely,  Drumlanrig,  Cumbernauld,  and  the  upper  park  at  Hamilton  Palace, 
at  all  of  which  places,  except  the  last,  I  believe,  they  have  now  been  destroyed, 
on  account  of  their  ferocity.  But  though  those  of  modern  days  are  remarkable 
for  their  white  colour,  with  black  muzzles,  and  exhibiting,  in  a  small  degree,  the 
black  mane,  about  three  or  four  inches  long,  by  which  the  bulls  in  particular  are 
distinguished,  they  do  not  by  any  means  come  near  the  terrific  description  given 
us  by  the  ancient  authors,  which  has  made  some  naturalists  think  that  these 
animals  .should  probably  be  referred  to  a  different  species,  though  possessing 
the  same  general  habits,  and  included  in  the  same  genus.  The  bones  which  are 
often  discovered  in  Scottish  mosses  belong  certainly  to  a  race  of  animals  much 
larger  than  those  of  Chillingham,  which  seldom  grow  to  above  80  stone  (of  14 
lbs.),  the  general  weight  varying  from  00  to  80  stone.  We  should  be  accounted 
very  negligent  by  one  class  of  readers  did  we  not  record  that  the  beef  furnished 
by  those  cattle  is  of  excellent  flavor,  and  finely  marbled. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  received  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  some 
time  after  the  publication  of  the  novel  : — 

When  it  is  wished  to  kill  any  of  the  cattle  at  Chillingham,  the  keeper  goes 
into  the  herd  on  horseback,  in  which  way  they  are  quite  accessible,  and  singling 
out  his  victim,  takes  aim  with  a  large  ritte-gun,  and  seldom  fails  in  bringing  him 
down.  It  the  poor  animal  makes  much  bellowing  in  his  agony,  and  especially  if 
the  ground  be  stained  with  his  blood,  his  companions  become  very  furious,  and 
are  themselves,  I  believe,  accessory  to  his  death.  After  which,  they  fly  off  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  park,  and  he  iS  drawn  away  on  a  sledge.  Lord  Tankerville  is 
very  tenacious  of  these  singular  animals  :  he  will  on  no  account  part  with  a  liv- 
ing one,  and  hardly  allows  of  a  sufficient  number  being  killed  to  leave  pasturage 
for  those  that  remain. 

It  happened  on  one  occasion,  three  or  four  years  ago,  that  a  party  visiting  at 
the  castle,  among  whom  were  some  men  of  war,  who  had  hunted  buffaloes  in 
foreign  parts,  obtained  permission  to  do  the  keeper's  work  and  shoot  one  of  the 
wild  cattle.  They  sallied  out  on  horseback,  and,  duly  equipped  for  the  enter- 
prise, attacked  their  object.  The  poor  animal  received  several  wounds,  but 
none  of  them  proving  fatal,  he  retired  before  his  pursuers,  roaring  with  pain 
and  rage,  till,  planting  himsdf  against  a  wall  or  tree,  he  stood  at  bay,  offering  a 
front  of  defiance.  In  this  position  the  youthful  heir  of  the  castle.  Lord  Ossul- 
ston,  rode  up  to  give  him  the  fatal  shot.  Though  warned  of  the  danger  of  ap- 
proachmg  near  to  the  enraged  animal,  and  especiallv  of  firing  without  first  hav- 
ing turned  his  horse's  head  in  a  direction  to  be  ready  for  flight,  he  discharged 
his  piece  ;  but  ere  he  could  turn  his  horse  round  to  make  his  retreat,  the  raging 
beast  had  plunged  his  immense  horns  into  its  flank.  The  horse  staggered  and 
was  near  falling,  but  recovering  by  a  violent  effort,  he  extricated  himself  from 
his  infuriated  pursuer,  making  off  with  all  the  speed  his  wasting  strength  sup- 
plied, his  entrails  meanwhile  dragging  on  the  ground  ;  till  at  length  he  fell,  and 
died  at  the  same  moment.  The  animal  was  now  close  upon  his  rear,  and  the 
young  lord  would  unquestionably  have  shared  the  fate  of  his  unhappy  steed, 
had  not  the  keeper,  deeming  it  full  time  to  conclude  the  day's  diversion,  fired  at 
the  instant.  His  shot  brought  the  beast  to  the  ground,  and  running  in  with  his 
large  knife,  he  put  a  period  to  its  existence. 

This  scene  of  gentlemanly  pastime  was  viewed  from  a  turret  of  the  castle  by 
Lady  Tankerville  and  her  female  visitors.  Such  a  situation  for  the  mother  o"f 
the  young  hero  was  anything  but  enviable. 

Note  7.— Ruin  op  Douglas  Church,  p.  418 

This  is  a  most  graphic  and  accurate  description  of  the  present  state  of  the 
ruin.    Its  being  occupied  by  the  sexton  as  a  dwelling-place,  and  the  whole  scene 


NOTES  TO  CASTLE  DANGEROUS  537 

of  the  old  man's  interview  with  De  Valence,  may  be  classed  with  our  illustrious 
author's  most  felicitous  imaginings  (Note  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stewart  of  Douglas). 

Note  8.— Fragment  by  Coleridge,  p.  420 

The  author  has  somewhat  altered  part  of  a  beautiful  unpublished  fragment 
of  Coleridge  :— 

Where  is  the  grave  of  Sir  Arthur  Orellan,— 
Where  may  the  grave  of  that  good  knight  be  ? 

By  the  marge  of  a  brook,  on  the  slope  of  Helvellyn, 
Under  the  boughs  of  a  young  birch-tree. 
The  oak  that  in  summer  was  pleasant  to  hear, 
That  rustled  in  autumn  all  withered  and  sear. 
That  whistled  and  groaned  thro'  the  winter  alone — 
He  hath  gone,  and  a  birch  in  his  place  is  grown. 
The  knight's  bones  are  dust. 
His  good  sword  is  rust ; 
His  spirit  is  with  the  saints,  we  trust. 

(Lockhart.) 
Note  9.— Prison  Cages,  p.  468 

The  queen  of  Robert  the  Bruce,  and  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  by  whom,  as  one 
of  Macduff's  descent,  he  was  crowned  at  Scone,  were  secured  in  the  manner  des- 
cribed. 

Note  10.— Bloody  Sykes,  p.  485 

The  ominous  name  of  Bloodmire  Sink  or  Syke  marks  a  narrow  iiollow  to  the 
north-west  of  Douglas  Castle,  from  which  it  is  distant  about  the  third  of  a  mile. 
Mr.  Haddow  states  that,  according  to  local  tradition,  the  name  was  given  in  con- 
sequence of  Sir  James  Douglas  having  at  this  spot  intercepted  and  slain  part  of 
the  garrison  of  the  castle  while  De  Walton  was  in  command. 

Note  11.— Death  op  Young  Dickson,  p.  512 

The  fall  of  this  brave  stripling  by  the  hand  of  the  English  governor,  and  the 
stern  heroism  of  the  father  in  turning  from  the  spot  where  he  lay,  "  a  model  of 
beauty  and  strength,"  that  he  might  not  be  withdrawn  from  the  duty  which 
Douglas  had  assigned  him  of  protecting  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  excites  an  interest 
for  both,  with  whict  it  is  almost  to  be  regretted  that  history  interferes.  It  was 
the  old  man,  Thomas  Dickson,  not  his  son,  who  fell.  The  slogan,  "  a  Douglas— 
a  Douglas,"  having  been  prematurely  raised.  Dickson,  who  was  within  the 
church,  thinking  that  his  young  lord  with  his  armed  band  was  at  hand,  drew  his 
sword,  and.  with  only  one  man  to  assist  hftn,  opposed  the  English,  who  now 
rushed  to  the  door.  Cut  across  the  middle  by  an  English  sword,  he  still  continued 
his  opposition,  till  he  fell  lifeless  at  the  threshold.  Such  is  the  tradition,  and  it 
is  supported  by  a  memorial  of  some  authority— a  tombstone,  still  to  be  seen  in 
the  churchyard  of  Douglas,  on  which  is  sculptured  a  figure  of  Dickson,  support- 
ing with  his  left  arm  his  protruding  entrails,  and  raising  his  sword  with  the  other 
in  the  attitude  of  combat  (Note  by  the  Rev.  Mr.Stewart  of  Douglas). 


GLOSSARY 

OF 

WORDS,  PHRASES,  AND  ALLUSIONS 


abacus,  correctly,  a  frame 
with       colored      beads 
strung  on  vertical  wires. 
But  here  probably  con- 
founded with  the  thyr- 
sus, the  mystic  staff  of 
the  phallic  worshipers 
Abouten,  about 
Abubeker     Alwakel     (the 
Father  of  the  Virgin,  the 
Representative),  or  bet- 
ter, Abubekr,  as-Saddik 
(the       Truthful),      the 
father-in-law  of  Moham- 
med and  his  first  succes- 
sor (caliph) 
Accipe  hoc,  take  that 
AfflictoB  sponsce  ne  oblivis- 
canis,    forget    not    the 
bride  in  her  tribulation 
Ahriman.    See  Arimanes 
Ainsell,  ownself 
Alan,  wolf-greyhound 
All,  the  nephew  and  son- 
in-law    of    Mohammed, 
and  fourth  Caliph 
illah  ackbar,  God  is  vic- 
torious ;  Alia  hu,  God  is 
God  ;  Allah  kerim,  God 
is  merciful 
Alonged  is,  longeth  for 
Anastashcs,  or.  Memoirs  of 
a  Greek  written  at  the 
Close  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century     (1819),    a     ro- 
mance, by  Thomas  Hope, 
an  art-collector  and  vir- 
tuoso 
Apayed,  pleased 
Araunah  the  Jebusite,  an 
allusion     to    3    Samuel 
xxiv.  16 
Arblast,  a  cross-bow 
Arimanes     or     Ahriman, 
the  Principle  of  Evil  in 
Zoroaster's  religion,  the 
ancient  religion  of  Persia 
Astrolabe,   a   circular  in- 
strument for  observing 
the  stars 
dstucious,  astute,  cunning 
Asturias,  a  Christian  king- 
dom of  Spain  (8th  to  10th 
cent. ;    then   united    to 
Leon) 


Atdbal,  Arab  kettle-drum 

Baarenhauters,  more  cor- 
rectly bar  enhdut  er, 
meaning  "  bear-skin- 
ners," a  nickname  given 
to  the  landsknechte,  or 
lanzknechte,  of  "the 
16th  and  17th  centuries 
in  Germany,  from  their 
love  of  lying  stretched 
indolently  on  bear-skin 
rugs 

Bagnio,  a  prison  for  slaves 

Balsora,  Bassora,  Bus- 
sorah,  or  Basrah,  for- 
merly one  of  the  great 
cities  of  the  Orient, 
stands  on  the  river 
Tigris-Euphrates,  60  or 
70  miles  from  its  mouth 

Barb,  a  horse  of  Barbary 
(Morocco)  breed 

Bayard,  blind.  See  Blind 
Bayard 

Beau  garqon,  beau,  man 
of  fashion 

Beau-seant,  the  black  and 
white  standard  of  the 
Knights  Templars.  See 
Ivanhoe,  footnote,  p.  115 

Belle  aniie,  mistress 

Benedictio  Domini,  etc.  (p. 
90),  the  Lord's  blessing 
be  with  thee  ! 

Benefit  of  clergy,  the  priv- 
ilege claimed  by  one  who 
could  read,  to  escape  the 
sentence,  on  his  first 
conviction  for  certain 
offenses ;  finally  abol- 
ished in  1837 

Benevent,  or  Benevento, 
a  city  of  Southern  Italy 

Blind  Bayard,  the  famous 
steed  of  Amadisof  Gaul, 
afterwards  belonged  to 
the  hero  Rinaldo 

Blond  el,  the  favorite 
minstrel  of  Richard, 
who.  according  to  the 
well-known  legend,  dis- 
covered his  place  of  im- 
prisonment in  Germany 

Bode,  a  message 
539 


Borak  of  the  Prophet,  a 
new  sort  of  beast,  with 
the  face  of  a  man,  emer- 
alds for  eyes,  and  bright 
jewels  in  its  wings, 
which,  as  Mohammed 
saw  in  a  vision,  carried 
him  through  the  air  to 
the  gate  of  Jerusalem 

B  oru  ss  i  a,  the  eastern 
parts  of  modern  Prussia 

Brigandine,  or  brigantine, 
a  coat  of  scale  or  plate 
armor 

Burgonet,  a  kind  of  hel- 
met 

Byzant,  a  gold  coin=10s. 
to  £1,  struck  at  Byzan- 
tium, and  widely  current 
in  the  Middle  Ages 

Caaba,  Holy,  the  holiest 
temple  in  Mecca,  the 
spot  to  which  all  Moham- 
medans long  to  make  a 
pilgrimage,  at  least 
once,  before  they  die ; 
also  a  greatly  venerated 
black  stone  in  that  tem- 
ple 

Caftan,  a  long  vest  with 
sleeves,  worn  under  an 
outer  coat,  and  fastened 
by  a  girdle  round  the 
waist 

Caliph,  the  title  of  the  suc- 
cessors of  the  Prophet 
Mohammed  as  political 
and  religious  head  of  the 
Moslem  world 

Camel-driver  of  Mecca, 
Mohammed,  who  origin- 
ally followed  that  call- 
ing 

Camiscia,  or  camicia,  a 
large  kind  of  shirt 

Cangiar,  or  canjiar,  a 
small  two-edged  Arab 
cutlass,  a  poniard 

Curcanet,  a  jeweled 
chain,  necklace,  collar 

Carff,  carved 

Castrametation,  the  art  of 
measuring  and  laying 
out  a  camp 


540 


WAVM^BLJiY  NOVELS 


Chappe,  a  long  riding 
cloak  or  mantle 

Charegites,  more  properly 
Kharijis,  a  puritanical 
sect  or  party  of  Islam, 
who  originated  in  the  7th 
century 

Chios,  an  island  off  the 
west  coast  of  Asia  Minor 

Christian  maiden  brought 
Saracens  into  Spain  (p. 
278).  Count  Julian,  a 
vassal  of  Roderick,  king 
of  the  Goths,  is  said  to 
have  invited  the  Moors 
or  Saracens  over  from 
Africa  into  Spain  be- 
cause the  king  had  rav- 
ished F  1  o  r  i  n  d  a  his 
daughter 

Clergy,    benefit,    of. 


Benefit  of  clergy 
'/•,  I   confes 


See 
it,  I 


Confiteo, 
admit  it 

Consecrated  bread,  to 
swallow  a  piece  was  the 
ordeal  imposed  upon 
those  accused  of  perjury 

Coptish.  The  Copts  were 
the  Christian  descend- 
ants of  the  ancient  Egyp- 
tians 

Costard,  the  head— a  term 
of  contempt 

Cote,  to  outrun  and  get  be- 
fore 

Coz,  contraction  for  cousin 
—a  familiar  term  of  ad- 
dress 

Cranes,  flight  of.  See 
Phalanx 

Curtal,  short 

Cymar,  a  thin,  almost 
transparent  tissue 

Cyprus,  King  of,  Isaac 
Comnenus,  a  nephew  of 
the  reigning  emperor  of 
Byzantium  (Constanti- 
nople), who  was  de- 
throned by  Richard 
when  on  his  way  to  Pal- 
estine 

Damavend,  a  mountain  in 
the  norlh  (if  Persia 

Denis  Mumit jnir,  ilii'  war- 
cry  of  the  KnMirlL.  Ill  full 
form  U-  MoHtJnir  de  St. 
Denis,  alhidiiig  to  the 
hill  (Montjoie)  near  Paris 
on  which  St.  Denis  suf- 
fered (joyful)  martyr- 
dom 

Descant,  a  discourse 

Despardieux,  probably  a 
stronger  form  of  Par 
Dieu  7  By  God 

Dickon,  a  diminutive  for 
Richard 

Dimarjet,  or  Dunmyat,  a 
prominent  hill  3  miles 
northeast  of  Stirling 


Discipline,  a  scourge 

Divan,  a  council 

Dog,  duel  betwixt  man 
and     See  Duel,  etc. 

Dromond,  a  large  ship  or 
transport  vessel 

Droves,  Highland.  See 
Highland  droves 

Dudgeon-dagger,  a  dagger 
with  a  boxwood  haft 

Duel  betwixt  man  and  dog 
(p.  254),  no  doubt  the 
figlit  between  the  "  dog 
of  Montargis"  and  the 
murderer  of  the  animal's 
master,  which  took 
place,  however,  in  1371. 
See  the  World,  No.  113 

Eblis,  chief  of  the  jinn,  or 
evil  spirits  of  Moham- 
medan belief  who  was 
cast  out  of  Paradise  by 
Allah  (God)  because  he 
refused  to  worship 
Adam 

Egypt  and  Syria,  King  of, 
Saladin,  who,  whilst 
lieutenant  for  Nureddin, 
emir  of  Damascus,  con- 
quered Egypt  (1170-71) 

Eke,  also,  likewise 

Eld,  elders,  old  men 

El    Hakim,    means    "  the 


Elias,  our  founder  (p. 
176),  according  to  an  old 
legend,  the  Carmelite 
order  was  founded  by 
Elijah  (Elias)  the  pro- 
phet, who  was  so  closely 
associated  with  Mount 
Carmel 

Elritch,  or  Eldritch, 
weird,  wild,  strange 

Emir,  an  independent 
prince,  or  the  governor 
of  a  province 

Engaddi,  or  Engedi,  on  the 
west  shore  of  the  Dead 
Sea 

Enow,  enough,  several 

Erst,  before 

Fakir,  a  Hindu  ascetic  or 
mendicant 

Famagosta,  a  seaport  on 
the  east  side  of  (Cyprus, 
and  capital  of  Isaac,  the 
king  whom  Richard  de- 
posed on  his  way  to  the 
Holy  Land 

Faun,  a  Roman  rustic  div- 
inity, with  short  horns, 
pointed  ears,  a  goat's 
tail,  and  cloven  feet 

Feriatur  leo,  let  the  lion 
be  struck  down 

Flayn,  flayed 

Forbar,  deny,  refuse 

Frangistan,  the  country 
of  the  Franks,  i.e. 
Europe 


Frank,  the  name  given  by 
Orientals  to  the  peoples 
of  Western  Europe 

Front-stall,  the  piece  of 
armor  that  protected  a 
horse's  face 

Fytte,  or  Jit,  a  song,  story 
in  verse 

Gaber,  to  vie  in  telling 
marvelous  stories  d  ki 
Munchhausen 

Gaie  science,  the  art  of 
the  minstrel  or  trouba- 
dour 

Gaze-hoitnd,  a  hound  that 
pursues  by  sight  rather 
than  by  scent,  a  grey- 
hound 

Gear,  business,  affair 

Genii  (pi.),  the  jinn  or  evil 
spirits  of  Moslem  belief 

Ghittern,  or  gittern,  a 
stringed  instrument  of 
music  resembling  a 
guitar 

Giaougi,  or  Gyges,  a 
Lydian  king,  who  pos- 
sessed a  ring  which, 
when  he  wore  it,  ren 
dered  him  invisible 


Giaour,  a    contemptuous 
Iby] 
medans  to    all  non-Mo- 


term  applied  by  Moham- 


hammedans 

Ginnistan,  the  mythical 
land  of  the  jinn  or  evil 
spirits 

Gloria  Patri,  Glory  to  the 
Father 

Godfrey  (p.  189),  or  f?od- 
frey  of  Bouillon,  leader 
of  the  first  Crusade,  de- 
clined the  crown  of  Je- 
rusalem, after  the  cap- 
ture of  the  Holy  City  in 
1099,  on  the  plea  that  he 
could  not  wear  a  crown 
of  gold  where  his  Master 
had  worn  one  of  thorns 

Gramarye,  magic  or  nec- 
romancy 

Guy,  King  of  Jerusalem, 
Guy  of  Lusignan,  chosen 
king  of  Jerusalem  in  1186 

Hadgi,  or  Hajji,  a  Moham- 
medan who  l.ias  made 
the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca 

Hadji  Baba,  two  romances 
entitled  Tlie  adventures 
of  Hajji  Baba  of  Ispahan 
(1824)  and  Hajji  Baba  in 
England  (1828),  by  James 
Morier 

Haik,  a  kind  of  shawl  or 
cloak 

Hamako,  a  person  touched 
with  insanity 

Haroun,  Aaron,  the 
brother  of  Moses 

Hegira,  orHejira,  Moham- 


0L08SABT 


541 


med's  {Light  from  Mecca 
on  13th  September  (522 

Henry  the  iStern,  the  Em- 
peror Henry  VI. 

Hie,  high,  uoble 

Boch  lebe  der  Herzog 
Leopold,  Long  live  Duke 
Leopold  1 

Hoffnarr,  more  correctly 
hofnarr,  court  jester 

Homage  (Scottish)  to  Eng- 
land (p.  97),  extorted 
from  WiUiam  the  Lion 
of  Scotland,  after  he 
was  captured  at  Aln- 
wick by  the  men  of 
Yorkshire  in  1174 

Houris,  the  beautiful  dam- 
sels that  are  to  wait 
upon  faithful  Moham- 
medans in  Paradise 

Hke,  the  same 

Jmaum,  the  official  who 
recites  the  prayers  in  a 
mosque,  and  leads  the 
worshipers  in  their  de- 
votions 

Jn  articulo  mortis,  at  the 
point  of  death 

In  pari  casu,  in  the  same 
condition,  on  the  same 
terms 

Irak,  Persia,  more  proper- 
ly a  (western)  province 
of  that  country 

Isaack,  a  celebrated  Arab 
musician,  who  lived  in 
the  reigns  of  the  Caliph 
Haroun  ar-Rashid  and 
his  son  Al-Mamun 

Issa  ben  Mariam,  Jesus, 
the  son  of  Mary 

Istakhar,  an  ancient  city 
of  southern  Persia,  near 
the  still  older  Persepo- 
lis,  and  the  capital  of 
the  Sassanian  dynasty 
of  Persian  king 

Jerid,  or  Jereed,  a  wooden 
javehn,  five  feet  long, 
used  in  mimic  combats 

Jerusalem,  dethroned 

queen  of,  Sybilla,  sis- 
ter and  second  successor 
of  Baldwin  IV.,  king  of 
Jerusalem,  who,  when 
she  married  Guy  of  Lu- 
signan  in  1186,  resigned 
her  crown  to  hira 

Jerusalem,  Latin  king- 
dom of,  founded  by  the 
chiefs  of  the  first  Cru- 
sade in  1099,  destroyed 
by  the  Turkish  Charis- 
niians  in  1244 

Jongleur,  traveling  min- 
strel who  frequented 
tournaments.  castles, 
and  popular  festivals 


Joyeuse    science,    art    of 

minstrelsy 
Jure     divino,     by    divine 

right 

Kaiser,  emperor  of  the 
Holy  Roman  Empire 

Kebla,  the  point  towards 
which  Mohammedans 
turn  when  they  pray, 
i.e.  Mecca 

Kliirkhah,  a  dervish's 
habit  or  robe 

Lai,  a  short  lyric,  song, 
lay 

Lanceknecht,  lands- 

knechte,  or  lanzknechte, 
mercenary  soldiers 
armed  with  pikes  and 
swords,  and  first  organ- 
ized by  the  Emperor 
Maximilian  in  1487 

Lanercost,  a  celebrated 
Augustinian  priory, 

some  16  miles  northeast 
of  Carlisle 

Leasing,  fibbing,  telling 
falsehoods 

Lelies,  a  corruption  of 
the  Arab  war-cry,  "  La 
ilaha  ilia  Hlah,"  i.e. 
There  is  no  god  but 
God 

Leon,  a  Christian  kingdom 
of  Spain  (10th  to  13th 
cent.) 

Leopold,  Grand  Duke  of 
Austria  (p.  115).  It  was 
his  father  Henry,  not 
Leopold  himself,  who 
was  made  "  duke,"  and 
by  Frederick  I.,  not 
Henry  the  Stern 

Libbard,  leopard 

Lingua  franca,  a  lan- 
guage that  is  used  as  a 
common  medium  of 
communication 

Livand,  living 

Lokman,  a  mythical  per- 
sonage, variously  identi- 
fied as  Balaam,  as  Job"s 
nephew  or  grandson,  as 
a  Nubian  contemporary 
of  David,  and  the  tra- 
ditionary author  of  a 
collection  of  Arabic 
fables 

Lombardy  peddlers.  The 
people  of  the  Italian 
cities  of  Lombardy  were 
famous  traders  to  all 
parts  of  Europe  in  the 
times  of  the  Crusades 

Lord  of  speech,  the  tongue 

Los,  i.  e.  laus,  praise,  re- 
nown 

Lower  Empire,  the  East- 
ern, Byzantine,  or  Greek 
empire 
Lyme-hound,  a  dog  held 


in  a  learn  or  strap,  a 
boar-hound 

Magi,  the  priests  of  the 
religion  of  Zoroaster ; 
they  practised  divina- 
tion and  magic 

Magna  est  Veritas  et  prcev- 
alebit.  Truth  is  great 
and  it  will  prevail 

Mahound,  a  contempt- 
uous name  for  Mahomet, 
represented  as  a  devil  in 
the  medi£eval  mystery 
plays  of  Europe 

Mangonel,  a  large  cata- 
pult for  hurling  stones 

Mansour.  the  pen-name  of 
Firdousi,  the  great  Per- 
sian poet  (940-1020) 

Marabout,  a  Moham- 
medan ascetic  or  saint, 
especially  in  North 
Africa 

Maravedi,  a  copper  coin 
of  Portugal=l-13  penny 

Marmoset,  a  conceited 
puppy 

Maronites,  an  ancient 
Christian  sect  of  Syria 

Maugis,  a  knight  skilled  in 
magic,  the  hero  of  the 
mediaeval  romance 
Maugis  VAygremont 

Mazer,  a  large  wooden 
drinking-bowl,  mounted 
with  silver 

Mea.  culpa,  the  fault  is 
mine,  I  am  to  blame 

Melech  Ric,  King  Richard 

Momenta  mori,  remem- 
ber, you  must  die 

Menus  plaisirs,  little 
pleasures 

Merlin,  the  magician  in 
the  stories  of  King  Ar- 
thur and  his  knights  of 
the  Round  Table 

Meynie,  retinue,  house- 
hold 

Minnesinger,  the  love- 
poets  and  minstrels  of 
mediaeval  Germany 

Mirglip  (the  water- 
drinker).  See  Weber's 
Tales  of  the  East,  vol. 
iii.  p.  556 

Mohammed  Mohadi.  See 
Twelfth  imaum 

Mollahs,  the  Mohamme- 
dan clergy,  who  inter- 
pret the  Koran 

Monofroch,  a  one-wheeled 
car  or  vehicle 

Montserrat,  or  monte  ser- 
rato,  a  serrated  or  saw- 
edged  mountain.  This 
name  is  given  to  a  fan- 
tastically-shaped moun- 
tain, 30  miles  from  Bar- 
celona in  Spain.  The 
real  Marquis's  name  was 


542 


WA  VERLE  Y  N  0  VEL  S 


Montferrat,  and  he  was 
of  Italian  descent 

Moor,  Moorish,  taken,  in- 
correctly, as  synony- 
mous with  Arab,  Turk, 
Saracen  {q.  v.) 

Mortier,  a  steel  morion  or 
soldier's  cap 

Mosleviah,  Moslems  or 
Mohammedans 

Moiissa  ben  Aniran,  Moses 
the  son  of  Ainran.  The 
allusion  on  p.  183  is  to 
Numbers  xx.  11 

Muezzin,  the  officer  of  a 
mosque  who  proclaims 
the  hours  of  prayer  from 
the  highest  stage  of  the 
minaret  or  tower 

Murrey-colored,  mulberry 
or  dark  red 


Nazareiie,  a  term  applied 
in  contempt  to  the  early 
Christians,  as  followers 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth 

Ne,  not,  nor 

Nierenstein,  a  Rhine  wine 
grown  at  Nierenstein,  10 
miles  south  of  Mainz 

Nourissaiit,  nourishing 

Old  Man  of  the  Mountain, 
the  head  of  the  Moham- 
medan sect  of  the  Ish- 
maelites  or  Assassins, 
who  practised  political 
assassination  as  part  of 
their  religious  creed. 
He  lived  on  the  moun- 
tain of  Alamut  in  Persia 

Omrah,  court  officer, 
strictly  the  title  of  the 
twenty-four  councilloi-s 
of  the  Great  Mogul  (em- 
peror) of  Delhi 

Oriflamme,  the  sacred 
banner  of  France 

Orvietan,  an  antidote  to 
poison,  said  to  have  been 
first  compounded  at  Or- 
vieto  in  Spain 

Oui,  yes  ;  this  word  was 
used  in  the  north  of 
France,  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  oc  (yes),  employed 
in  the  south  of  France 


Par  amours,  for  love 
(illicit) 

Partes,  divide  share 
amongst 

Par  vote  du  fait,  by  a 
duel,  by  violence 

Passant,  walking — a  term 
in  heraldry 

Pavesse,  or  pavise.  a  large 
triangular  shield,  cover- 
ing the  entire  person 

Paynim,  pagan  ;  paynim- 
rie,  heathendom 


Pennoncelle,  a  small  flag 
at  the  end  of  a  spear 

Perdu,  hidden,  concealed 

Periapt,  an  amulet,  charm 

Phalanx  (of  cranes). 
These  birds  usually  fly 
in  a  wedge-shaped  body, 
a  single  bird  leading  the 
w^ay,  closely  followed  by 
two  others,  and  they  by 
three  more,  and  so  on. 
Compare  Schiller's  Kra- 
niche  des  Ibykus 

Pilau,  a  dish  of  mutton, 
kid,  or  fowl,  boiled  with 
rice,  butter,  and  spices 

Pouncet-box,  a  box  to  hold 
perfumes 

Precept  o  ries,  religious 
houses  of  the  Templars 

Prester  John,  a  mythical 
Christian  priest-king 
ruling  somewhere  in  the 
far  east  of  Asia,  later 
identified  with  th^  Chris- 
tian king  of  Abyssinia 

Prometheus,  according  to 
one  version  of  the  legend 
made  men  out  of  clay 
and  water 

Prone,  extolled,  cried  up 

ProvediTore,  a  high  officer 
of  state  of  Venice 

Qtiod  erat  demonstran- 
dum, which  was  to  be 
proved 

Quotha,  forsooth 

Rashid,  an  observatory 
Red-hot  globe  of  iron,  was 
carried    a    certain     dis- 
tance as  an    ordeal    to 
determine  guilt  or  inno- 
cence 
Rood,  a  cross,  crucifix 
Rote,    a    stringed    instru- 
ment played  by  turning 
a  wheel 
Rudpiki,    probably  a   slip 
for  Rudiki,  a  poet  who 
lived    at    the    court    of 
Bokhars      and      Samar- 
cand,   in  the    10th  cen- 
tury.   The  sentiment  in 
the  text  (p.  27),  was  how- 
ever,   uttered      by    the 
great  Persian  poet  Hafiz 
Rustan,    or    Rustem,    the 
traditionary     hero      of 
Persia,  was  a  brave  and 
a  faithful  general 

Saladin,  a  Turh(p.  106). 
Saladin  was  by  birth  a 
Kurd,  but  he  ruled  the 
Turks  of  Asia  Minor, 
who  were  the  most  in- 
veterate foes  of  the 
Crusaders 

Salam  aliciim.  Peace  be 


with  you,  the  usual  Mo 
hammedan  greeting 

Samite,  a  special  kind  of 
gold  clotii 

Suatvn,  a  Moslem  saint 

Saracen,  is  not  correctly, 
the  name  of  a  nation, 
but  the  common  desig- 
nation which  the  Cru- 
saders gave  to  all  their 
3Ioslem  enemies 

Saracens  brought  into 
Spain  (p.  278).  See 
Christian  maiden,  etc. 

Sarbacane,  tube  for  blow- 
ing small  poisoned  darts 
through,  blow-gun 

Sathanas,  Satan,  devil 

Scheik.  See  Old  Man  of 
the  Mountain 

Schiraz,  an  ancient  and 
renowned  city  of  Persia 

Scrub,  in  George  Far- 
quhar's  Beaux's  Strata- 
gem (1707),  Act  iii.   sc.l 

Secret,  a  shirt  of  mail  worn 
under  the  armor 

Seljook,  or  Seljuk,  the 
name,  properly,  of  a 
ruling  dynasty  of  the 
Turks,  who  are  by  race 
quite  distinct  from  the 
Kurds.  Saladin's  father 
was  a  provincial  gover- 
nor under  the  Seljuk 
rulers 

Seven  oceans,  according  to 
Arab  geographers,  there 
are  seven  earths 

Shag,  stuff  of  coarse  cloth 
or  rough  hair 

Shalm.  or  Sharvm,  a  kind 
of  clarinet  or  hautboy 
I  Sheerkohf.  or  Shirkoh,  the 
name  of  Saladin's  uncle, 
and  a  Kurd  by  race 

Siddim.  valley  of,  where 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah 
formerly  stood,  now  in 
great  part  covered  by 
the  Dead  Sea 

Simoom  a  hot,  suffocating 
wind  that  blows  in  the 
deserts  of  Africa  and 
Arabia 

Soldan,  or  soudan,  sultar 

S  ol  im  aim  ben  Dacrud. 
Solomon,  the  son  of 
David 

Spain,  Saracens  brought 
into  (p.  278).  See  Chris- 
tian maiden,  etc. 

Speech  lord  of,  the  tongue 

Spinichsprecher,  sayer  of 
sayings 

Standard  battle  of  the, 
fought  near  Northaller- 
ton in  Yorkshire,  be- 
tween the  English  and 
the  Scotch  led  by  David 
I.  in  li:W.  the  latter  suf- 
fering defeat 


GLOSSARY 


543 


Stoop,  swoop  of  a  falcon 

Stradiots,  or  titratiots, 
light  cavalry  recruited 
by  Venice  in  Albania  and 
Morea  (Greece; 

S  t  yp  i  c,  a  medicine  to 
check  the  flow  of  blood 
from  a  wound 

Surcoat,  a  long  loose  gar- 
ment worn  over  armor 

Swarte,  black,  swarthy 

Swilke,  of  such  like,  of 
that  kind 

Swyche,  such 

Tabard,  a  long  tunic  or 
upper  cloak 

Tabour,  a  kind  of  kettle- 
drum 

Tabouret,  a  low  seat  with- 
out arms  or  back ;  a 
tabour,  i.  e.  a  musical 
instrument 

Tarriance,  delay 

Tecbir,  the  formula  Allah 
akbar  (God  is  great),  the 
Arab  war-cry 

Tent  (a  wound),  to  ex- 
amine or  probe 

Terniagaunt,  an  Oriental 
spirit  of  violent  and 
tumultuous  behavior, 
represented  as  a  devil  in 
the  mediaeval  mystery 
plays  of  Europe 

Teutonic  Knights,  a  re- 
ligious, military  order, 
founded  in  Palestine  in 
1190  (1197),  but  from  1325 
to  1386  engaged  in  fight- 
ing the  heathen  Prus- 
sians and  Lithuanians, 
and  still  (1S94)  in  exis- 
tence as  an  (aristocratic) 
secular      order,      with 


branches  in  Vienna  and 
Utrecht 

Tishbite  Elijah  the  pro- 
phet 

Tolpach,  a  Tartar  hat 
made  of  black  lamb's- 
wool 

Tophet,  or  Toxiheth,  a 
valley  near  Jerusalem, 
where  the  filth  and 
sewage  of  the  city  were 
deposited  and  burnt 

Trained,  enticed  away  by 
a  trick  or  stratagem 

Trouveur,  poets  of  chiv- 
alry in  Northern  France 

Turks,  regarded  in  this 
novel  as  synonymous 
with  Saracens 

Twelfth  iniaum,  or  caliph, 
named  Mohammed,  dis- 
appeared when  only 
twelve  years  of  age.  The 
Mohammedans  expect 
him  to  return  some  day, 
to  inaugurate  a  reign  of 
peace  and  happiness. 
This  expected  prophet 
is  called  the  Mahdi 
(Mohadi) 

Ulemat,  a  Moslem  ecclesi- 
astic of  high  rank 

Untented  (conscience,) 
one  the  pain  of  which  is 
not  lessened 

Venerie,  the  chase 

Venetian  skip2}ers.  The 
Venetians  made  great 
gains  by  shipping  the 
Crusaders  and  their  sup 
piles  to  the  East 

Vera  crux,  the  true  cross 

Vert,  a  game  forest 


T7s,  face,  visage 

Waits,  hautboys,  oboes 
Warlock,  a  wizard 
Wetc,  knoweth 
Williebnus,   William,    i.e 

William  III. 
Wrest,  a  key  for  tuning  4 

harp 

Yacoun,  or  Zakum,  in  Mo- 
hammedan faith,  a  tree 
of  the  infernal  regions, 
that  produces  heads  of 
demons  instead  of  fruit 

Yemen,  the  most  south- 
erly province  of  Arabia 

Yezed  ben  Soi^hian,  one 
of  the  Arab  generals 
sent  to  conquer  Syria, 
though  the  real  head  of 
the  invading  army  was 
Khelid  (the  sword  of  the 
Lord) 

Ysop,  or  ^a^sop,  the  fable- 
teller,  is  traditionally 
said  to  have  been  de- 
formed and  a  monster  of 
ugliness 

Yso  uf  ben  Yago  w  b  e, 
Joseph,  the  son  of  (the 
patriarch)  Jacob 

Zablestan,  or  Zabulistan, 
is  Ghazni.  in  modern 
Afghanistan 

Zee  h  in,  or  zecchino, 
sequin,  a  gold  coin  of 
Venice  worth  about  9s. 
4d. 

Zenana,  the  women's 
apartments  in  an  Ori- 
ental house 

Zohauk,  or  Zohak.  Set 
Note  3,  p.  416 


INDEX  TO  THE  TALISMAN 


A.BDALLAH  EL   HADGI,  281 

A.bouker,  Caliph,  advice  to  his  general, 

19 
Adonbec  el  Hakim.    See  Saladin 
Ahrirnan,  hymn  of,  31,  528 
Allen,  Long,  English  soldier,  216 
Amaury,  Giles  de.  See  Templars,  Grand 

Master  of 
Arab  horses,  9,  235 
Arimanes,  Principle  of  Evil,  31 
Assisses  de  Jerusalem,  108,  528 
Austria,  Archduke  of.     See  Leopold 
Author's  Introduction,  v 

Berengaria,  Queen,  at  Engaddi,  49 ; 
her  jest  with  Sir  Kenneth,  141  ;  dis 
tress  at  the  result,  145,  167  ;  her  his- 
tory, 165  ;  intercedes  for  Sir  Kenneth, 
172  ;  is  visited  by  Richard,  207 

Betrothed,  the  novel,  v 

Blaeklees,  Tomalin,  English  soldier,  217 

Blondelde  Nesle,  268  ;  his  song  of  "  The 
Bloody  Vest,"  273,  275 

"  Bloody  Vest,"  song,  273,  275 

Calista,  Lady,  141,  166,  177;  tells  the 
story  of  the  banner  to  Richard,  206 

Charegite,  the,  made  to  dance,  215  ; 
attempts  to  stab  Richard,  220 

Chatillon,  Reginald  de,  529 

Cceur-de-Lion.    See  Richard 

Couchant  Leopard,  Knight  of  the.  See 
Kenneth,  Sir 

Crusaders,  discords  amongst,  59  ;  treat 
secretly  with  Saladin,  97,  154  ;  desire 
to  abandon  the  Crusade,  193  ;  in  coun- 
cil, 197  ;  salute  Richard's  standard, 
247 

Crusaders,  Tales  of  the,  v 

"Dark  Ahriman,  whom  Irak  still,'   31 
David,  Prince  of  Scotland,  304,  vi 
Dead  Sea,  1 
Diamond  of  the  Desert,  11,  21  ;  lists  at. 


Edith,  Lady.    See  Plantagenet,  Edith 

Ellis,  Early  English  Metrical  Romances, 
quoted,  ix,  .534,  ,528 

Engaddi,     wilderness     of,    26 ;     Theo- 
dorick's  cave,  37  ;  chapel  of,  45 

England,  relations  with  Scotland,  25.  70, 
528  ;  factions  in,  during  Richard's  ab- 
sence, 214  1 
545 


Florse,  Lady,  143,  177 

Gab,  gaber,  11,  527 

Genii,  Mohammedan  belief  in,  28 

Georgian  cavalry.  285 

Germans,  manners  of,  116 

Giamschid,  legend  of,  29,  527 

Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall,  quoted,  529 

Gilsland,  Thomas  of,  or  Thomas  de 
Vaux,  61  ;  beside  Richard's  s.ck-bed, 
65;  His  prejudice  against  the  Scots, 
71  ;  meets  Sir  Kenneth,  73;  grants 
protection  to  his  hound.  dO ;  seeks 
counsel  of  the  Archbishop  of  Tyre, 
86;  restrains  Richard,  '59;  compas- 
sion for  Sir  Kenneth,  Id's  ;  charged  to 
defy  Leopold  of  Austria,  184  ;  returns 
to  Richard's  camp,  268  ;  suspicious  of 
the  Saracens,  283 ;  of  Saladin,  287 ; 
note  on,  528 

Glossary,  539 

Guenevra,  female  dwarf,  55 

Hakim,  El.    See  Saladin 

Hamako.    See  Theodorick 

Hassan,  the  story-teller,  230 

Holy  Land,  Author's  knowledge  of,  v 

Horses,  Arab,  9,  235 

Hospitallers  of  St.  John,  Grand  Master 

of,  67 
Huntinglen,  Earl  of.    See  Kenneth,  Sir 

Ilderim.    See  Saladin 
Introduction,  Author's,  v 

James,  History  of  Chivalry,  quoted,  526 
Jamshid,  legend  of,  29,  527 
Jerusalem,  kingdom  of,  107 ;  Assisseg 
of,  108,  528 


Kenneth,  Sir,  in  the  Dead  Sea  wilder- 
ness, 1  ;  his  armor  described,  2 :  en- 
counter with  tlie  Saracen,  5  ;  his  per- 
sonal apjiparance,  12  ;  conversation 
with  the  Saracen,  14  ;  declares  his 
name,  2t  ;  in  the  wilderness  of  the 
Temptation,  26  ;  first  view  of  Theo- 
dorick, 32  ;  reproached  by  Sheerkohf, 
35  ;  in  Theodoriek's  cave,  37  ;  led  into 
the  chapel,  43  ;  sees  the  true  cross,  46  ; 
surprised  by  the  dwarfs,  54  ;  brings  a 
physician  to  Richard,  73  ;  his  poverty, 
77  ;  interview  with  Richard,  94  ;  un- 
dertakes the  watch,  130 ;  decoyed 
away,  134  ;  interview  with  Edith,  146  ; 


546 


INDEX  TO  THE  TALISMAN 


finds  the  banner  gone,  148  ;  tempted 
to  turn  renegade,  153 ;  confesses  his 
fault  to  Richard,  158 ;  condemned  to 
die,  163  :  reprieved,  183  ;  disguised  as 
a  Nubian,  'i\\  ;  saves  Richards  life, 
220;  undertakes  to  discover  the  stealer 
of  the  banner,  222 ;  carried  away  by 
the  Hakim.  22?  ;  takes  the  opiate,  236  ; 
in  the  camp  of  Ilderim,  240  ;  talks  with 
him  about  Edith,  242;  disguised  by 
bim,  246  ;  Roswal  tears  down  Conrade 
of  Montserrat,  251  ;  mute  interview 
with  Edith,  2M  ;  fights  with  Conrade, 
301  ;  his  rank  disclosed,  304 

Lee  Penny,  viii,  527 

Leopard,  Knight  of  the.  See  Kenneth, 
Sir 

Leopold,  Duke  of  Austria,  character- 
ized by  Richard,  66  ;  description  of, 
114 ;  his  liabits  and  manners,  116 ; 
jealousy  of  Richard,  119  ;  at  the  gen- 
eral council,  198  ;  supports  Conrade, 
258 

Lockhart,  Sir  Simon,  of  Lee,  vii 

Longsword,  William,  856 

Melech  Rig.    See  Richard  1. 

Mills,  History  of  the  Crusades,  vi,  588 

Mohammedans,  their  ideas  of  women, 
15  ;  belief  in  genii, 28;  morning  prayers 
of,  231,  297 

Montrose's  Lines,  260,  529 

Montserrat,  Conrade  of.  his  death,  ix, 
characterized  by  Richard.  67 ;  per- 
sonal appearance  of,  100  ;  visits  Rich- 
ard, 101  ;  plots  against  him,  105,  202  ; 
incites  Leopold  against  him,  119  ;  tells 
Richard  of  Leopold's  insult,  122  ;  torn 
to  the  ground  by  Roswal,  251  ;  defied 
to  combat  by  Richard,  255  ;  his  con- 
fession interrupted,  298  ;  overthrown 
by  Sir  Kenneth.  302  ;  stabbed  Dy  the 
Grand  Master  of  the  Templars,  311 

Mortemar,  Alberick  of.  See  Theodorick 

Multon,  Sir  Thomas,  528 

Nectabanus,  the  dwarf,  in  the  chapel, 
54  ;  decoys  Kenneth  from  the  banner, 
134  ;  driven  out  by  Queen  Berengaria, 
145  ;  tells  of  Conrade's  assassination, 
309 

Neville,  Sir  Henry,  chamberlain  to 
Richard,  159  ;  brings  despatches,  214  ; 
expostulates  with  Richard,  223;  in 
attendance,  262,  267 

Nubian  slave.    See  Kenneth,  Sir 

Palestine,  Author's  knowledge  of,  v 
Philip,  king  of  France,  described  by 
Richard,  66  ;  intervenes  between  him 
and  Leopold,  127  ;  his  desire  to  return 
to  Europe,  198 ;  presides  over  the 
council,  254 
Plantagenet.  Edith,  in  the  chapel  at 
Engaddi,  49  ;  her  relations  to  Sir  Ken- 
neth, 51  ;  rallied  by  the  Queen,  142, 
discovers  Sir  Kenneth  in  the  tent,  145; 
entreats  him  to  return  to  his  duty, 
146:  proposal  towed  her  to  Saladin, 
154,  161,  195,  528  ;  her  history.  166  ;  " 


tercedes  for  Sir  Kenneth,  174 ;  con- [    ^ 


ciliatory  visit  from  Richard,  309; 
interview  with  Sir  Kenneth,  264 ; 
tramples  on  Saladin's  proposal,  277; 
her  conversation  with  Richard,  294 ; 
unarms  Sir  Kenneth,  304 

"Remember  the  Holy  Sepulchre,"  113 
Richard  I.,  romantic  character  of,  vi, 
vii  ;  illness  of,  60  ;  his  impatience  of 
inactivity,  64  ;  receives  Saladin's  let- 
ter, 84  ;  interview  with  Sir  Kenneth, 
94  ;  consents  to  be  treated  by  El  Ha- 
kim, 102  ;  his  contempt  for  Leopold, 
115 ;  tramples  on  his  banner,  125 ; 
throws  Earl  Wallenrode,  126  ;  charges 
Sir  Kenneth  to  watch  his  standard, 
130  ;  his  rage  at  him  for  losing  it,  158  ; 
instructions  to  the  executioner,  170; 
Berengaria's  intercession  for  Sir  Ken- 
neth, ir2 ;  El  Hakim  prevails  with 
him,  180;  his  assassination  threatened. 
186  ;  gives  audience  to  Archbishop  of 
Tyre,^  193  ;  attends  the  Crusaders' 
council,  197 ;  is  charged  with  arro- 
gance by  the  Grand  Master  of  tlie 
Templars,  199  ;  his  reply,  201  ;  visits 
Berengaria,  207 ;  interview  with 
Edith,  209  ;  receives  the  Nubian,  211  ; 
hears  of  factions  in  England,  214 ; 
attempt  to  assassinate  him,  220 ; 
watches  the  procession,  247 ;  im- 
pfaaches  Conrade,  252  ;  challenges  him 
to  combat,  2.55 ;  welcomes  Blondel, 
268  ;  criticises  his  song,  274  ;  his  bitter 
reflections,  280  ;  on  the  way  to  the 
duel,  282 ;  his  meeting  with  Saladin. 
286 ;  shows  the  strength  of  his  arm, 
288  ;  challenges  Saladin,  312  ;  metrical 
romance  of,  523 
Roswal,  Sir  Kenneth's  hound,  77.  79  ;  on 
the  watch,  133 ;  woimded,  147,  149  ; 
taken  care  of  by  El  Hakim,  152  ;  tears 
down  Conrade,  251 


St.  George's  Mount,  113 ;  disorderly 
scene  on,  124  ;  procession  of  crusading 
host  past,  247 

Saladin,  his  encounter  with  Sir  Kenneth, 
5  ;  his  personal  appearance,  13  :  con- 
versation with  Sir  Kenneth,  14  ;  de- 
clares his  name.  22  ;  sings,  27 ;  at- 
tacked by  Theodorick  of  Engaddi,  33  ; 
heals  Sir  Kenneth's  squire,  77  ;  his 
message  to  Richard,  84  :  questioned 
by  the  Archbishop  of  Tyre,  88  :  at- 
tends Richard,  102  ;  begs  to  cure  Ros- 
wal, 150  ;  tempts  Sir  Kenneth  to  join 
his  host,  152  ;  proposal  to  wed  Edith, 
154.  161,  195,  528;  intercedes  for  Sir 
Kenneth,  179  ;  sends  the  Nubian  slave 
to  Richard,  211  ;  carries  him  off.  227,- 
gives  him  the  opiate.  2.36 ;  reveals 
himself  as  Ilderim,  240  ;  talks  of  Edith, 
242 ;  his  meeting  with  Richard,  286  ; 
his  dexterous  swordsmanship,  289; 
impressive  inscription  in  his  banquet- 
ing-tent,  308;  strikes  oflf  the  Templar's 
head,  310 ;  declines  Richard's  chal- 
lenge, 313 

Saracens,  8  ;  their  reception  of  Richard 


INDEX  TO  THE  TALISMAN 


547 


Schwanker,  Jonas,  Leopold's  fool,  117, 
128,  258 

Scotland,  relations  with  England,  25,  70, 
528 

Scots.  "  fair  aud  false,"  160,  528 

Sheerkohf.    See  Saladin 

Simpson,  Sir  J.  Y.,  527 

Spi-Hchsprecher,  Leopold's,  117,  128,  258 

Stradiots,  250 

Strauchan,  Sir  Kenneth's  squire,  77,  90 

Tales  of  the  Ci-usaders,  v 

Talisman,  the  novel,  vi 

Talisman,  Saladin's,  181  ;  presented  to 
Sir  Kenneth,  314.    See  also  Lee  Penny 

Templars,  character  of,  233 

Templars,  Grand  Blaster  of,  described 
by  Richard,  &' ;  personal  appearance, 
100  ;  visits  Richard,  101 ;  plots  against 
him,  105,  202  ;  charges  him  with  arro- 
gance, 190  •  interrupts  Conrade's  con- 
fession, 298  ;  death  of,  310,  529 

ThaJurs,  or  Trudentes,  526 

Theodorick  of  Engaddi,  attacks  Saladin, 
83  ;  his  cave,  37  ;  account  of  his  life, 
89,  18";  leads  Sir  Kennetk  into  the 


chapel,  45  ;  intercedes  for  him,  176 ; 
stops  Gilsland,  185  ;  foretells  danger 
to  Richard.  186 ;  dismissed  by  the 
Grand  Master,  298 

Tristrem,  Sir,  and  forest  laws,  260,  529 

Trudentes,  or  Thafurs,  526 

"  'Twas  near  the  fair  city  of  Benevent," 
273 

Tyre,  Archbishop  of,  advises  Gilsland, 
86  ;  cross-examines  El  Hakim,  88  ;  his 
agitation,  92  ;  has  audience  of  Rich- 
ard, 193  ;  intervenes  between  Richard 
and  Conrade,  256 

Vaux,  Thomas  de.     See  Gilsland,  Thorn 

as  of 
Venetian,  proveditore,  251,  255 

Wallenrode,  Earl,  126 

Wilderness,  of  the  Dead  Sea,  1  ;  of  the 

Temptation,  26 
Woodstall,  Henry,  English  soldier,  816 

ZoHAUK,  legend  of,  29 


INDEX  TO  CASTLE  DANGEROUS 


AxE3^ANDER  III.,  Story  of,  353 
Anthony,  English  soldier,  337 
Augustine,  minstrel's  boy.    See  Berke-  ] 

ly,  Augusta  de  „,^     ^ 

Author,  his  Introduction,  317  ;  Conclu- 
sion, 521 
Barbour,  Bruce,  quoted,  317,  320,  532 
Bend-the-Bow,  English  soldier,  337 
Berkely,  Augusta  de,  327  ;  at  Hazelside, 
339  ;  left  at   St.  Bride' s  abbey,   34o  ; 
interrogated  by  Aymer  de  "^^a  ^nce, 
431 ;  escapes  from  the  abbey,  434,  4W  ; 
her  vow,  436  ;  her  letter  to  De  Walton 
and  De  Valence,  447  ;  guided  by  Lord 
James    Douglas,  406;    taken    to    De 
Walton,  476  ;  at   Bloody  bykes,  481  ; 
at  Douglas  church,  499  ;  given  up  to 
De  Walton,  517 
Bertram,  the  minstrel,  326  ;  hails  Dick- 
son, 3*4 ;  reads  the  soldiers'  instruc- 
tions, 340  :  taken  to  Castle  Douglas, 
347  ;  his  story  of  Alexander  III.,  352  ; 
of  James  of  Douglas,  334  ;  of  Thomas 
the  Rhymer,  360;  examined  by   De 
Walton,  401 ;  his  missive  to  Augusta 
de  Berkely,  407 ;  visited  in  the  dun- 
geon, 452;    in    Greenleaf's    custody, 
489  ;  in  Douglas  churchyard,  499 
Black  stock,  table,  328 
Bloody  Sykes,  485,  495,  537 
Blore,  Sepulchral  Antiquities,  321 
Bruce,  extracts  from,  317,  320,  532 
Bruce,  Robert,  515 
Cages,  for  prisoners,  469,  537 
Cairutable  Hills,  325  ,      ^      , 

Castle  Dangerous.    See  Douglas  Castle 
Castle  Dangerous,  the  novel,  317 
Cattle,  wild,  379,  535 
Chillingham,  536 
Coleridge,  fragment  by,  420,  537 

Dickson,  Charles,  3:35;  death  of,  311, 
537 

Dickson,  Thomas,  330,  334,  530,  632  ;  wit- 
nesses his  son's  death,  512 

Dougl  IS,  Lord  James,  317,  354  ;  his  war- 
like energy,  373  ;  appears  in  Douglas 
town,  412  ;  guides  Augusta  de  Berke- 
ly, 466 ;  meets  his  adherents,  475  ; 
fights  De  Walton,  485  ;  challenges  him 
again,  509  ;  Hume  of  Godscroft's  ac- 
count of  him,  5-30  ;  Barbour's,  532 

Douglus,  village,  254 ;  church,  412,  498 
536 


Douglas  Burn,  323,  535 

Douglas  Castle,  318,  354,  364 ;  Augusta 
de  Berkely's  vow  regarding,  436  ;  dun- 
geon of,  451  ;  surrendered  to  Lord 
James  Douglas,  516;  Hamilton  of 
Bangour's  account  of,  535 

Douglas  Dale,  319,  323 

Douglas  Larder,  357,  533 

Fabian,  squire.     See  Harboth  el,  Fabian 

Finlay,  Alexander,  319 

Fleming,  Malcolm,  of  Biggar,  410 ; 
rescued  by  Margaret  de  Hautlieu, 
513  ;  subsequent  relations  with  her, 
518 

Glasgow,  Bishop  of,  501  ;  visits  Turn- 
bull,  504 

Gordon,  Patrick,  quoted,  317 

Greenleaf,  Gilbert.  306  ;  his  jealous  sus- 
picions, 370  ;  conference  with  De  Wal- 
ton, 397 ;  as  Bertram's  custodian, 
489  ;  in  Douglas  churchyard,  499 

Haddow,  Thomas,   319;  notes  by,  535, 

537 
Hamilton  of  Wishaw,  quoted,  535 
HarbotheL  Fabian,  366  ;  eavesdropping, 

371 ;  at  St.  Bride's  church,  423 
Hattely,  or  Hautlieu,  Maurice  de,  440 
Hautlieu,  Margaret  de,  435  ;  her  story, 

440  ;  guides  Augusta  de  Berkely,  462  ; 

saves  Malcolm  Fleming,  513;  subse 

quent  relations  with  him,  518 
Hazelside,  .332.  341,  535 
HoUinshed.  quoted,  318 
Hugonet,  Hugo.  360 
Hume  of  Godscroft,  quoted,  321,  530 
Hunting,  in  Douglas  Dale,  477 

Introduction,  Author's,  317 

Jerome,  Abbot,  408  ;  under  examina 
tion,  426 

Loudon  Hill,  battle  of,  515 
MacAdam,  roadmakor,  3X13,  535 
Maker,  or  poet,  4.50.  535 
Meredith,  Welsh  knight,  515 
Minstrel.    See  Bertram 
Minstrelsy,  349 

Monteney,  Sir  Philip  de,  389,  466 
OssuLSTON,  Lord,  375 

Pembroke,  Earl  of,  390,  515 


648 


INDBX  TO  CASTLE  DANGEROUS 


549 


Poet,  or  maker,  450,  535 

Powheid,  Lazarus,  sexton,  417;   defies 

De  Valence,  424 
Prison  cages,  469,  537 

Rhymer,  Thomas  the,  tale  of,  360 ;  his 
book  of  prophecies,  491 

St.  Bride's  abbey,  319,  333,  418 

Sir  Tristrein,  poem,  361,  535 

Stewart,  Rev.  Mr.,  of  Douglas,  536,  537 

■"hirlwall,   Thruswall,    or    Thyrwall, 

James  of,  357,  531,  53;} 
Ihomas    the    Rhymer.    See    Rhymer, 

Thomas  the 
Trouveur,  5.35 
Turnbull,  Michael,  383  ;  leads  Augusta 

de  Berkely  to  De   Walton,  477,  480  ; 

struck  down  by  him,  484  ;  death  of. 

504 

Ursula,    Sister.     See    Hautlieu.   Mar- 
garet de 

Valence,  Aymer  de,  344 ;   takes  Ber- 
tram to  Douglas  Castle,  »47  ;  ent«rs 


the  castle,  366;  differences  with  De 
Walton,  375,  388,  393  ;  receives  a  let- 
ter from  Pembroke,  .390  ;  encounters 
the  mysterious  knight,  412;  seeks  the 
sexton,  416;  questions  Abbot  Jerome. 
426  ;  interview  with  Augusta  de 
Berkely,  431  ;  visits  Bertram  in  the 
dungeon,  452  ;  fights   Fleming,  513 

Wallace,  Sir  William,  442 

Walton,  Sir  John  de,  356  ;  his  suspicions 
aroused,  370  ;  differences  with  Aymer 
de  Valence,  375,  388,  1.3;  warned  by 
Turnbull,  384,  388,  oC3  ;  consults 
Greenleaf,  397 ;  examines  Bertram, 
401  ;  rides  to  St.  Bride's,  408  ;  Augusta 
de  Berkely's  vow,  436  ;  her  letter  to 
him,  447  ;  visits  Bertram  in  the  dun- 
geon, 452  ;  meets  Augusta  de  Berkely, 
481  :  strikes  down  Turnbull,  484  ; 
fights  Lord  James  Douglas,  485  ;  fight 
in  the  church,  510  ;  surrenders  Doug- 
las Castle,  516  ;  Hume  of  Godscroft's 
account  of  him,  531 

"  When  the  cock  crows,"  498 

Wild  cattle,  379,  535 

Wolves,  in  Scotland,  381 


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